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“Hey.” I scold myself when my voice leaves me sounding breathless. He does not literally take your breath away, Margaret.
“Hey,” he replies, pulling an arm around from behind his back, bringing a dozen white roses into view.
“Wow,” I whisper with a grin of my own as I take them from him. He leans in like he wants to kiss me and hesitates; I don’t know how to react, so I just stay still. Just as his lips are about to touch mine, a throat clears behind me.
Liam stands up straight and gives me a glare, jealousy flaring in his eyes as he takes a step around me.
I let him and follow as he sees Gemma at the table—I practically forgot about her when Liam showed up. He walks over and stands above her. “What the fuck are you doing here?”
“Liam!” I scold. “What the hell? Be nice!” I don’t necessarily have a reason to defend Gemma, but I don’t have a reason not to either…
“It’s okay, Margaret. He wasn’t expecting me,” she snarks at him. Neither are looking at me, and if I didn’t know better, I would think this was a lover’s quarrel. A feeling of dread sits heavily in my gut, and I toss the roses on the counter.
“Well,” I start, not sure where to start. Liam and I haven’t actually talked in weeks, just some texts. I never asked if he dated anyone after we parted ways, but I guess my assumption was that he didn’t. “What is going on?” I ask, my hands out in front of me, my confusion clear.
“So, you haven’t told her then?” Gemma asks Liam, casually taking a sip of her wine and waiting on his reply.
“Shut up,” he growls. “You shouldn’t have come here.”
I hate how that sounds, like he is hiding something from me, but do I even have claim? Dammit. I have no idea. “Liam,” I say, crossing my arms, “what’s going on?”
He closes his eyes and looks to me; his eyes are sad, and it seems like whatever he’s about to say isn’t going to be something I’ll like. Walking until he’s standing right in front of me, he grabs my elbows and says, “I didn’t want you to find out like this.”
I school my features. “Find out what?”
“Jesus, Liam, you should have fucking told her the second you saw her,” Gemma snaps. I don’t look at her, though; I look to Liam and wait.
“I haven’t been totally honest with you about some things.”
“Like?”
He closes his eyes and says, “Like…that I’m not in the FBI anymore.”
“What?” I ask, not understanding what he’s saying. “You’re a PI now…right?”
“Technically, yes.”
“Technically? So, what are you really?”
“I’m…undercover…kind of.”
I shake my head and take a step back, effectively knocking his hands off my arms. “What the fuck, Liam?”
I don’t really understand what is happening, or why Gemma is here, or what the fuck is going on.
“I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you to be concerned yet. I didn’t want to have you looking over your shoulder every second. I was hoping I could finish it then tell you.”
“Finish what?” I ask, but Gemma cuts in.
“It’s too late, Stokes.”
He looks over at her and sighs. “What do you mean?”
“According to our sources, Margaret has already been made.”
I stare at Liam’s face as it crumples and he turns to look at me, his face pained. “I’m sorry, Mo.”
“Sorry? Sorry for what?”
It’s Gemma who answers. “Unfortunately, Margaret, you’re in danger—again.”
