Wired (Buchanan-Renard #13)(46)

“I guess this is the last time you’ll be driving me to and from the cyber unit,” she said. “Good luck on your next assignment.”

The doorman, a retired car salesman named Stamos, unbolted the glass door from within and opened it wide. Allison smiled at him before turning back to Liam. “You don’t need to go up with me.” She was involved in a tug-of-war with her tote bag. She was pulling on it, but he wasn’t letting go.

Liam finally released his hold on the bag and followed her up the steps and into the foyer without saying a word. Allison couldn’t tell what was going through his mind, but the way he was looking at her, as though searching for the answer to some pressing question, was making her feel very uneasy.

She wanted to find out how long he would be staying in Boston without being too intrusive. Subtle, she decided. She would be subtle. “Will you and Alec be leaving to follow up on the leak? I imagine you’ve already taken another assignment after this one. Or is it too soon? Are you waiting to decide, or are you going to take a few days off? That’s what you should do. Take some time to relax.” She couldn’t seem to slow down. So much for being subtle. Her words were fairly tripping over one another. Why she was suddenly feeling so nervous was beyond her. Perhaps it was because it was doubtful she would ever see him again. Maybe once she was away from him, she would come to her senses and figure it all out. It was impossible to distance herself now.

The doorman gained their attention. “Miss Trent, there was an incident you should know about.” Stamos’s usually booming voice was hesitant. He kept glancing at Liam.

“Stamos, this is my friend Agent Scott. Tell me about the incident, please.” She had a bad feeling she already knew what he was going to say, yet foolishly held out hope it was something else . . . anything else.

“You had some company,” he began. “An older man and woman came by. They parked right in front of the door, so I saw what they were driving. It was a year-old Chrysler 300C Platinum with twenty-inch polished cast aluminum wheels, a dual-pane panoramic power sunroof, and HID headlights. It’s a nice, smooth ride,” he continued. “This one had dents and scratches all over it, like someone had taken a hammer to it or maybe had been driving when he shouldn’t . . . if you know what I mean. They ruined that beautiful car.”

Liam tried to get him back on track. “You were telling Allison about the man and woman. Who were they? Do you know?”

“Oh yes, of course. They told me they were your aunt and uncle. The woman even pulled out her driver’s license and waved it in my face to prove she had the same last name.”

Allison felt as though the wind had just been knocked out of her. They had found her. And so soon. Damn. It was inevitable that they would track her down, but she had hoped it would take them longer to figure out she had moved, and even longer to find her new address. No such luck.

“When was this?” she asked.

“They showed up around four this afternoon, maybe four thirty.” He scratched his jaw as he continued. “They were . . . difficult.”

Difficult? That was putting it mildly. “Did they make a scene?” she asked, knowing full well they did.

“Yes, ma’am, they certainly did. They wanted to wait in your apartment. I refused to let them, of course, and that was when they started shouting at me. The woman told me she had your permission. Don’t worry. I would never let anyone inside your home,” he rushed to add.

“Did they tell you what they wanted?” Liam asked.

“No, and I didn’t ask. They tried to push past me to get to the elevator. I pushed back and explained again that they couldn’t go beyond the lobby. They both became quite belligerent and as loud as a couple of broken mufflers. Your uncle threatened me, said he could get me fired. I’m pretty sure he was intoxicated.”

Of course he had been intoxicated. He usually started drinking around noon, sometimes a little before. It was just the way it was in the Trent household. Allison wished Liam wasn’t hearing about her relatives. It was embarrassing to be related to such vulgar people. She reminded herself that their behavior didn’t reflect on her, but she wasn’t very convincing. “I’m sure he was drunk or on his way there, and I’m sorry you had to deal with them. I know how difficult they can be.”

“Now that you know what they look like, don’t ever let them inside, and if they try to force their way in, call the police,” Liam ordered.

“I’ll alert the other doormen. There’re three of us in all,” he told Liam. “I lock up at ten each night, and tenants have to use their keys to get inside the front door until six in the morning.”

Great. Now outsiders were getting involved in the fiasco. The more Allison tried to avoid her aunt and uncle, the more belligerent they became. “I’m so sorry they were a bother,” she apologized.

Liam heard the mortification in Allison’s voice and immediately felt his protective instincts rising again. “You aren’t responsible,” he said, putting his arm around her.

Was he comforting her or feeling sorry for her? Allison couldn’t tell. She tried to gently shrug his arm away as she headed toward the elevator, but it didn’t budge. Instead, Liam walked into the elevator with her and pushed the button for her floor.

As the elevator ascended, Liam’s emotions and his good judgment were in a raging battle. It was killing him not to take charge of her aunt and uncle, to tell Allison he would make certain they left her alone. He could be a real badass when he needed to. Allison wouldn’t let him, though. She would think he was interfering, and in fact that was exactly what he would be doing. He knew she could handle herself. The way she stood up to Phillips had proven that she could hold her own, but knowing what she had endured growing up in that whacked-out household made him want to shield her from more heartache. She wouldn’t like that, either. So he would let her take the lead, and if he needed to get involved, he would make certain she didn’t know about it.