I roll my eyes. “With the way you lie, it should be.”
“ThewayI do it?”
“You know, your flirting, making poor women think you’re in love with them with just one word. Throwing around counterfeit compliments like candy.”
He sits back, his curious eyes calculating. “You’re jealous.”
I bark out a laugh. “I’m observant. And I’ve watched you manipulate too many people to not call you on it.”
He taps his fingers on the table, drawing out the moment. “Words are our greatest weapons, Cruz. I choose to wield kindness with mine and you”—he picks up his steak knife just to point it at me—“tend to wield, well, threats.”
“Kindness?” I raise a brow. “You expect me to believe your compliments are sincere? What about when you told that woman you ‘adored her brooch’? It was an evil-eyed raccoon.”
His lips twitch. “Yes, but it was special to her, special enough to wear proudly, and that kind of confidence, Idoadore.”
I… don’t know how to argue with that. There are layers to Liam. Layers that are confusing, but not repulsive. And the lack of repulsion is… more repulsing.
“All my compliments are sincere, love, especially for you.”
My heart kicks up a notch, like a bomb getting ready to detonate. Time to cut the red wire.
Thankfully, our food is served, and I offer it my full attention as I stuff my face with divine pasta and garlic bread. We don’t utter another word as we eat. I can tell he’s tempting me, wanting me to callhim on his bluff, but I won’t give him the satisfaction. I eat as quickly and unladylike as I can to fill my empty stomach.
“I need to run to the restroom,” I say after I finish the last bite of food.
“I’m sure you do. Make sure you take the phone.” Liam tips his glass of wine toward me.
I toss my cloth napkin on the table and practically run to the restroom. Why is he letting me go? He can’t possibly trust me. After I make this phone call, he’s a dead man. So why is he allowing me to do it?
I shake my head. Everything with him is a con, a ploy. Even when it isn’t. And I’m constantly waiting for everything to backfire and another gun to end up in my face.
When I’m in the safety of the women’s restroom, I slip the phone out. It’s not locked, thank goodness. I open the calling app and am about to type in a number when I freeze. What do I say? If I tell Agent Ford, he’ll order me to get out of here and have seven different teams on Liam before I leave the restroom. But I don’t want someone else to take this over. I can’t explain why, butIhave to do this. If only to prove to Ford—tomyself—that I can.
I type in Caleb’s number instead. He’s just as eager to prove himself and will help me nail Liam.
Caleb’s gruff voice answers on the first ring. “Hello?”
“Harris,” I say, relief flooding my veins.
“Cruz?” Caleb practically shouts. “Where are you?”
“I’m in London. I’ve been abducted and I—” The phone is snatched from my hand, and I whirl on Liam.
But it’s not Liam.
“Hello.” A giant greets me, and a fist flies at my face. The phone slips from my fingers, and I go down with it.
Chapter 12
Liam
Cruz has been inthe bathroom long enough. I let her have a few minutes to make the call, but a few minutes is all I can stand. I have to know what she’s done. Am I getting sappy? Weak? Stupid? This woman makes me all of the above. Or maybe it’s a testament that I truly am ready to start a new chapter in my life. Iwanther to lock me up. And not just because it would be incredibly sexy. I’m ready to be done. Done having to always look over my shoulder, always being on the run. I’m tired. I want Serena to see I’ve changed.
But if she locks me up, then I can’t help the dozen other people counting on my expertise to right their wrongs. I do dishonest things for the benefit of others, which makes it good. Right? I steal from the rich what they’ve stolen from the poor, taking down despicable men who do terrible things from a single computer. The people they’ve hurtcan’tdo it. But I can.
Yet nothing I do will ever be enough.
“Check?” The waitress drops a folder on the table, and I pull out my wallet. I tuck two one hundred-pound notes inside and fish the small envelope from my pocket, slipping it into the other side of the folder. I leave it on the table and walk toward the back.
