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Ty nods. “Thanks, man.” Jumping up, he ambles to the kitchen, stopping by me on his way to his room. “I’ll see you this afternoon, Freckles. Pool and dinner with Rena.”
“Sounds good.” I frown, leaning in for a hug. “Sorry you had to stay with me all night. Get some rest.”
He palms my head, his face filling with what looks like sorrow.
What the hell is going on?
“I was exactly where I wanted to be,” he says with a soft smile before wandering to his room.
Liam’s voice cuts through the heaviness with a hint of excitement. “Go throw on jeans and a T-shirt. We’re going out.”
My face lights up, but I don’t ask any questions. I dart to my room, dress in my vintage Aerosmith T-shirt and ripped jean capris, dab on some lip gloss and mascara, and meet a fully dressed Liam in the living room.
“Well done, High Society. Blending in is the name of the game today. Got it?” He twirls my ponytail up onto my head and shimmies a ball cap over it.
“Okay.” I peer up at him from under the bill. “Who am I blending in with like this?”
“Sunglasses?” he asks, plowing past my inquiry.
I hurry to my room to retrieve them and catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. My hair is practically nonexistent. “I look ridiculous,” I say, returning to him.
He shakes his head. “You look perfect. We’re blending in with the masses today. Can’t be too careful.”
“Aren’t you guys the ones with the dangerous business? Why am I the one in disguise?”
He chuckles. “You’ve been spotted with Wells. There’s a target on your back. And right now, we’re hiding from the people who know you.”
His index finger moves to his lips in ashhgesture as I silently clap. I’m not sure where we’re going, but it feels like a prison break.
He tugs me into his side, instructs me to leave my phone, and ushers me out of the suite and through some back exit of the hotel, where a car is waiting. The driver drops us off on Bourbon Street, where Liam keeps one hand protectively around my waist and the other on the concealed gun on his hip.
It’s Monday, late morning, so the street is quiet. But the lack of people doesn’t hide the eccentricities of the city—the businesses are historical row houses with wrought iron balconies and heavy two-hundred-year-old doors. Some are brick, and others are painted in blues and greens and pinks. Live music streams from various restaurants as we pass, but Liam assures me we’re headed to the most iconic one, so we keep on.
“I’ve never walked through a city,” I say. “The streets smell like pot, urine, and sausage.”
“Well, that’s fucking perceptive.” He grins. “Homeless people piss in the streets in cities, among other things. Never been to a city? I forget sometimes …”
“Forget what?”
He swallows, an unusual glimmer of discomfort passing through his eyes. “Sometimes, you don’t seem like such a princess—that’s all.”
“Makes sense. Sometimes, you don’t seem like such a jackass.”
“Cute,” he snipes.
“But,” I continue as he maneuvers me past a group of drunken tourists, adorned in beads and slurping tall, frothy beverages, “if you’re referring to my lack of experiences, that’s because my father wasalmostas paranoid as Wells. Crowds were a hardno, so cities, amusement parks, concerts—all places I’ve never been. Except one night in Vegas when I turned twenty-one. Celeste and I snuck away. Although we spent the entire time inside the MGM and Bellagio resorts, so it wasn’t quite a city experience.”
We pause our conversation when we reach Café Beignet, which is absolutely charming—a brick courtyard with bronze statues of local musical legends, small iron tables, and a live band. Liam takes charge, ordering two baskets of beignets, along with jambalaya and red beans and rice. The girl taking the order hands us a number for the table, so we find a seat and wait for our food.
His eyes narrow. “So, no one knew about your Vegas trip?”
“Nope.” I puff myself up with pride. “It was the one and only time I did something like that, but we nailed it.”
He smirks, kicking back in his chair. “So, you’re a rebel after all. I’ve been to my share of cities, but no concerts or amusement parks.”
I tilt my head, surprised we have that in common. “Did you have an overprotective father too?”
“I didn’t have an overprotective anything, but let’s not talk about that today.” He tips his chin, lips curling with mischief. “How did your wedding night pan out?”
