A Dom is Forever (Masters and Mercenaries #3)(47)

“Now go downstairs and run out to Tesco and grab something to drink.” Jake handed him back Avery’s keys after very carefully cleaning them. “It’s a good excuse if she’s awake when you get back.”

She had mentioned she didn’t have any beer. He could grab a six-pack. He could drink a couple before he crawled back into bed with her. Maybe he wouldn’t scare the shit out of her with his nightmares.

“Okay. I’ll do that.” The Tesco was half a block down. Maybe a walk would do him good. Clear his head. He headed out. The faster he grabbed the six-pack, the faster he could get back to Avery. He was torn. He wanted to get away from her, but he also needed to protect her.

He nodded to the concierge. Avery had signed Liam in when they’d come back here earlier. Would he be able to get back in? “I’m just running to get some beer. Is that okay?”

The concierge nodded. “Go on then, mate. Ms. Charles signed you in as a person who could come and go for the night. She’s a very nice lady, and she seems to like you more than the other one.”

That had Liam turning. “Other one? Do you mean Weston?”

The big guy shrugged, one shoulder moving up and down. “He’s a prat, that one. Glad to see she found someone nice.”

Weston was becoming a problem. Liam pushed through the building’s outer doors and turned left, crossing the street. Liverpool station was humming. People poured out onto the street. It would be so easy to get lost, to join the crowd and disappear. He’d done it more than once. He stared out at the throng of humanity that made up London on a Saturday night.

They hustled. They bustled. They slept. They didn’t sit around wondering exactly who they were because they just f*cking knew. They didn’t look a gift horse in the mouth. They took the gift with both hands.

Liam sighed because he knew damn well he was probably giving the people on the street way too much credit. They flooded the side street beside the pub, pints and wine glasses in hand, each one in smart dress. They’d finished their week at whatever bank they worked at and now they were set on forgetting how f*cking dull their lives were.

Not a one of them had been balls deep inside the sweetest thing to walk the face of the earth.

He was the only person on earth who knew what it meant to make love to Avery Charles. No other man alive had done it.

That was something to hold on to.

He was crossing the street when he saw him. Simon Weston was walking toward him, his eyes purposeful. He walked like a man who knew exactly where he was going.

Liam swerved down the side street, turning to see where Weston was going. Obviously to Avery’s, but he wouldn’t be allowed in. Before he’d left, he’d made sure Avery’s phone was on vibrate. She was out. She wouldn’t wake up and let the f*cker in. Would she?

Liam tried to blend into the crowd, but Weston turned down the same street.

He just kept coming. Liam stopped. He was caught, and he’d been f*cking right. He’d known there was something wrong with Simon Weston. The big blond man stalked right up to him.

“Are you going to come quietly or do I need to pull my gun?” Weston asked. “I have a few questions about your relationship with Avery Charles. We can go to my safe house or I can take you straight to Scotland Yard, Mr. O’Donnell.”

Liam sighed. The f*cker was MI6, and he was screwed.

“I’m on an op. I know you won’t believe me, but I’m trying to help.” It couldn’t hurt to try.

Weston gave him a slight smile and didn’t reach for his gun. “Do you know you’re working for the CIA?”

Liam stared.

“Yes, I rather thought not. Ian Taggart doesn’t tell you a damn thing, does he? Follow me if you want the truth. If you don’t then I can have Scotland Yard pick you up. I know some people in Ireland who would love to talk to you about the murders of six university students. I believe G2 thinks you’re dead. You can be sent back to Ireland, you know. I happen to believe you didn’t have a f*cking thing to do with that shit. My car is just up the road.”

Liam stood there, thinking about Avery safe and sound in her bed. If she woke up, she would wonder where he’d gone.

He hurried to catch up with her would-be lover. He’d gotten the prize, but Weston knew the truth.





Chapter Eight


Liam sat at the table across from an empty chair. It was a bland, featureless room in a suitably boring house that no one would notice in a suburban neighborhood just outside London. The small room was dominated by a mirror that ran along the opposite wall. MI6. Whoever was watching behind that mirror was MI6, and he was right in the belly of the beast.

He shouldn’t have gotten out of her bed, but then he wasn’t known for making good choices when it came to women. He sat in the chair, utterly unmoving. They’d offered him food and drinks, but he wouldn’t touch a f*cking thing. He wouldn’t risk the food being tampered with. The very least they would do would be to deny him access to the loo after he’d had a couple of cups of tea. It was the way these things went. Torture could come in small ways.

So he waited.

The door opened, and Simon Weston walked inside carrying a file folder. He was still dressed in his smart suit, still looked every inch the English blue blood even at f*cking two o’clock in the morning.

“You’re not being held here, Mr. O’Donnell. If you want to leave, you should. I’ll drive you back myself,” Weston offered, gesturing back toward the door. “I would like to point out that I haven’t taken your phone nor was that door ever locked. I merely wish to have a talk with you.”