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“Where are you going?” Liam grips at her arms, fingers biting into the flesh.
She tries to shake him off. “We’re leaving. We said we were leaving. You told me leave, remember?”
Liam leans over the rail when he hears the doors in the entry below open. He’s tense, his hands still gripping her tightly. When he looks back up, the intensity in his eyes sets panic building in Willow’s stomach.
“Liam, what’s wrong? Did something happen?” Her voice is pitchy with her growing panic.
Keeping one hand on her, Liam grabs Frank with the other and starts to physically haul them back up the stairs.
“My bag!” Willow yells. “Liam, my bag.”
He doubles back and grabs the bag, shoving it into her hand before continuing his journey up the stairs, still dragging Willow and Frank along with him. Once they reach his door, he pushes the key quickly into the lock, kicking at the door to open it, and thrusts them both inside, clicking the deadbolt into place behind them.
Willow swallows. She’s been locked in a room before and she’s not going to stay locked in another one. She pushes Frank behind her, and when Liam turns away, rubbing his hand distractedly over the back of his head, she swings her wheeled bag at his legs, catching him just behind the knee. With a roar of pain, his knee buckles, sending him to the floor. She turns and fumbles with the locks, throwing open one then another, fingers slipping on the doorknob in her panic.
“Willow,” she hears from behind her, “turn around.” His voice is so deadly calm that it stops her frantic movements. She turns and sees Frank, settled onto Liam shoulders, his fingers gripping Liam’s hair.
“Liam, please…” she reaches one hand toward him, toward Frank sitting out of her reach. “Please.” Her voice quivers with unshed tears.
Liam sighs heavily when he realizes what she thinks. “I’m not going to hurt him. Or you.” He crosses the room and swings Frank down onto the sofa. He flips on the TV and skates through the channels to find cartoons. “Sit here, bug.” He goes to the kitchen and returns with a sleeve of cookies. He pulls off Frank’s shoes and settles him with a blanket and the cookies. “Sit here and watch all the cartoons you want, bug.” Frank nods happily, a handful of cookie already on its way to his mouth.
Liam grabs by the arm again and steers her into the bedroom, stopping just inside the door and keeping Frank and the front door in his sights. Willow watches, trying to tamp down her fear. She doesn’t know what’s happened since Liam left them that morning but it had whipped him into a panicked, agitated state that she didn’t want to aggravate any further. She remembers what it was like to have a large man agitated and be in arms reach of him. She takes a step back.
“Willow,” Liam starts, his breathing uneven in his state, “tell me about Frank’s dad.”
The question floors Willow. She’s not sure what she was expecting but it wasn’t questions about Frank’s dad, that was for sure.
“Why?” she asks, “There’s really nothing to tell.”
“You ran from him because he was a bad guy. I think there’s something to tell.”
“It shouldn’t concern you. Don’t worry about it.”
Willow jumps when Liam slams his fist into the doorframe. She glances out the door to Frank, but he’s still engrossed in the bright images flashing across the screen.
“Listen, it’s my concern,” Liam grinds out between his teeth, keeping his voice low. “You…and your kid…are in my house. On the run from someone. I think that should concern me.”
“No, it….”
Liam stops her, “I paid a lot of money to keep you from getting in trouble, you owe me. Especially if being associated with you is putting my life in danger.”
“Liam…” Willow raises a hand to him.
“Am I, Willow? Am I in danger? From Frank’s dad?”
Willow backs up until her legs hit the edge of the bed, then she sinks to the mattress, all the air leaving her lungs in a long sigh. She takes a deep breath, and another, before she attempts to talk.
“Okay, I’ll tell you. Yes, Frank’s dad is bad. Bad, bad. Mafia bad. Killing and maiming and extortion and bribery and drugs
and sex trafficking and just about any other horrible thing you can imagine. He does them all…or pays people to do them for him, rather.”
“So, he’s a boss.”
“Yes.”
“Willow, how did you get hooked up with a mob boss?”
Willow gives him a wry grin. “I was eighteen once, stupid and naive and dying to get out of my small town. He swept me off my feet.…”
