Wilde Heart (Wilde Women Book 2) (53 page)

Biting her lip, she willed the tears to stay away before meeting his worried eyes.

“She’s going to try and separate us, you know. I can feel it.”

Liam’s mouth thinned to a grim line. “Fuck her.”

If he imagined she’d come back with a pithy retort, he’d be waiting for a while. For once, she didn’t have a sarcastic or mocking reply at the ready.

In a small whisper, she shared her worst fears. “She won’t stop till someone gets hurt. Or worse. That’s the way these things go, Liam. Kim isn’t going to suddenly wake up and think,
Oh, my bad,
and try to make things right. It’s already gone too far for that.”

She held her breath, waiting to see what he said.

“I will kill her if she touches you.”

Rhiann’s stomach lurched at the angry passion she heard in his words. Her voice when she answered his threat was so tiny and scared, it sounded strange to her ears.

“What if she goes after you?”

“Roman will make sure nothing happens to either of us.”

“I don’t want him to get hurt, either,” she moaned.

Liam leaned over and kissed her gently on the forehead. “You have such a big heart.”

“Family trait, I guess,” she told him. “Wilde women . . . Wilde hearts.”

He smiled. “I’m honored. No, humbled—to be on the receiving end of so fearsome a trait.”

“I mean it, Liam. It’d kill me if anything happened to you. Or Roman.”

“I know, honey. Just try not to worry so, okay? Let the men do what they do.”

She rolled her eyes at his adorable jest.

He kissed her forehead again and pulled the covers up to her chin. “Nap time, woman. Close your eyes and relax. When you get up, we’ll go to that shit hole restaurant down on the beach you’ve been rattling on about.”

She stuck her tongue out at him and pouted. “It’s not a shit hole.”

This time, he laughed softly. “I know. Just wanted to see you smile. Rest, Rhiann. And please stop worrying.”

He and Roman set up a series of video chats with everyone from Marjorie at BPG Headquarters to Gary in Liam’s security office and even the couple across the street, who were doing the local surveillance.

Roman’s former service comrade, Cameron Justice also weighed in. And good god, was that guy ever a scary monster. Someone he most definitely didn’t care to fuck with and that was saying a lot. Talk about serious with a take no prisoners approach! No wonder the dude’s agency was so exclusive.

After conferring with all those parties, it was agreed that Kim was definitely on the run and had gone to ground in a hurry. Was she here? In Nags Head? There was little doubt about that, too.

A round-the-clock watch over the house and Rhiann went into immediate effect. Looked like him and Roman along with Donna from the house nearby and her husband Smith weren’t going to be getting much sleep. Roman, who had more fucking surveillance toys than Liam ever imagined even produced a pair of night vision goggles to make eyeballing the property and the beach road easier.

Marjorie had managed to shut down the leaks running rampant at BPG with a few well-placed falsehoods that were easily tracked back to the source. With Kim MIA, her toady little butt buddy Katherine Martin was running the bitch show. By the time Gardener the Guard Dog was finished with the stupid shit, she’d been chewed up, spit out, chewed up again, and puked into the trash. Good riddance, too.

Now, it seemed, all that was left was the waiting game. Something had to give. And give soon. Because Liam wasn’t sure how much more Rhiann could take.

When his normally spunky lady emerged from the bedroom after a good long nap, she was quiet and the dark circles under her eyes were still there but she no longer seemed like she would dissolve into tears if the phone rang or the toast burned. That was progress, right?

Roman tried cheering her up with a superbly tacky Outer Banks souvenir he’d grabbed at the mini-mart down the road. When a paperweight with a simulated pile of horse poop—from the Nag of Nag’s Head, get it?—didn’t get much more than an anemic snicker, Liam knew they weren’t in the clear just yet.

Hopefully, dinner at a local restaurant Rhiann saw on some TV show would cheer her up.

And after that? Well, he’d bring her back here, maybe bathe her in the ginormous soaking tub in their en suite—girls liked that shit, didn’t they?—and then he’d take her to bed and spend the night making love to her until all her fears were banished.

Sounded like a good plan to him.

“S
ERIOUSLY?” ROMAN GRIPED. “THIS IS where you’ve been dying to eat?”

“Hush, you,” Rhiann told him with a less-than-believable frown. “This place was on
Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives
so it has to be good.”

“You take dinner suggestions from a guy with hair like that?”

Liam was enjoying their friendly banter. Roman seemed to have a knack for drawing her out and that was just what she needed right now.

Holding her hand tightly in his, he walked by her side and didn’t miss the impish snicker right before she told him, “By the way, I was right about those jeans. They, uh . . . do a package good.”

Okay, now
there
was the naughty mouth he knew and loved. Thank fucking god. He’d been about to get really worried. No way was he used to a pensive, silent Rhiann. Made him nervous as shit when she stopped with the snark.

They must have arrived at the perfect time because the hostess seated them immediately at a round top tucked in an out-of-the-way corner where they could relax.

Completely ignoring the menu, Rhiann struck up a lively conversation with their waitress, telling her they wanted a little bit of everything. Something from the steamer menu, another appetizer that was apparently the shiznit, and a main course for her that had been featured on the TV show. Roman, who approached every meal like a true carnivore, got the biggest, bloodiest steak in the kitchen while Liam opted for a plate of what he knew would be the messiest baby back ribs on the planet. Maybe the jeans were a good idea, after all.

After a round of vodka and cranberry cocktails, chick drinks as Rhiann so sweetly smirked, everyone was smiling, the jokes were whizzing and finally, at last—whatever had crawled up Rhiann’s skirt was pushed back into the shadows.

And speaking of her damn skirt, she looked like a million bucks in one of those clingy sweater dresses she favored, cinched with a wide belt that made her ass look like it should be on the damn menu. The suede boots, something she wore frequently, fired up his libido—not that it needed any help.

When their meals arrived, they each dug in like they hadn’t eaten in a month. Liam thought it was pretty funny because they’d put away a serious appetizer pile of shrimp, clams, and crab legs.

“It’s the sea air,” Rhiann insisted for why the three of them were eating everything in sight.

“Oh, my god, I’m going to explode.” She chuckled,pushing her plate away. Glancing around furtively to make sure no one was watching, she hilariously loosened her belt and let out a belch that would do any guy’s locker room proud.

The sound was so shocking and so big considering how small she was that he and Roman nearly toppled off their chairs with unrestrained laughter.

Wiping away some hysterical tears, Roman—the cocky bastard—shot him a half grin and taunted, “You
sleep
with that? Holy shit, man. Hope you keep a window open.”

Rhiann punched him soundly on the bicep and growled. His good-natured flinch and the way he whined, “Owwww!” got a big laugh.

Pushing back from the table, she stood up which immediately got him and Roman leaping to their feet.

Mockingly fanning herself, Rhiann giggled and said, “Oh my, my! Such gentlemanly manners. Swoon!”

A woman seated nearby snickered and smacked her husband on the arm. “See! That’s how it’s done.” The poor guy glared at him with a black expression then went back to his meal. That he kept his ball cap on all through dinner was a pretty good indicator of how deep the dude’s manners ran.

Rhiann covered her mouth and looked at him wide-eyed with an
Oh my god
expression that had him grinning ear to ear.

“If you gentlemen will excuse me.” She smiled sweetly, dropping her napkin on the table. “It’s time for me to visit the ladies’ room.”

Their waitress happened by at that moment for Rhiann to inquire where the restrooms were.

“Blue sign hanging over the bar with an arrow. Can’t miss it.”

Some part of Liam, the one that was more comfortable in a suit than jeans, marveled that he’d just had one of the best meals of his life in an establishment with a sign and an arrow showing the way to the bathrooms. Wonders never ceased.

As Rhiann trotted off to do her thing, he and Roman got into a ridiculous discussion about whether or not to order up a wood-fired pizza—or two—to take home with them. Like they hadn’t had enough to eat already! And knowing his feisty sidekick, she was most likely going to insist that there be ice cream before the night was through.

“Dammit,” Rhi muttered aloud as she huddled in the cramped stall with a wad of flimsy toilet paper clutched in her hand. Why hadn’t she brought her purse with her? Didn’t do much good to attempt a freshen-up without a hairbrush and her favorite lip balm.

Oh well.
She could still stick her face in the mirror and make sure there were no foreign objects stuck in her teeth.

Flushing, she stood and re-hooked her belt with a hand pressed to her tummy.
That’s what you get for not eating all day,
her mind screamed!

Humming a happy tune, she backed out of the stall and made for the sink area, which was dimly lit at best. As she bent over to wash her hands, something poked her in the hip that had her gasping and jerking upright.

What the hell?

You know that moment in a good story when everything slows down right before the shit hits the fan? Well. That was exactly what this felt like.

“Hello, Wilde. Surprised to see me?”

Holy mother of god—no! This couldn’t be happening, but it was. There, in all her demonic glory, was Jane Kimberly Allen Walsh . . . in a black bobbed wig wearing a black turtleneck and dark jeans.

Fuck.
All dressed up like a Black Widow and what was that poking in her side? Motherfucker had a gun. She had an actual, goddamn gun. And Rhiann? No purse. No phone. No pepper spray. No nothing. Just her and a crazy lady in a crappy bathroom at the back of a busy restaurant well away from where Rhiann’s two protectors were waiting for her.

This. Wasn’t. Good.

“If you say one word or so much as look in anyone’s direction, I will blow a hole through that empty skull of yours and then put a bullet in Liam. Understood?”