Chasing Shadows (First Wives #3)(12)

“An hour ago I would have said yes.”

Her brain couldn’t process what he meant. “But not now?”

“The protective part of me wants to erase that look in your eyes.”

“The angry, pissed off look?”

He smiled. “Sure, that, too.”

“Well, Liam. Thank you, but no thank you.” She brushed past him and stepped out the door.

Halfway across the gym floor, Brenda called out from her office, “See you Friday.”

Avery knew she’d be back.



Sometimes addictions took time to become the compelling habits that often debilitated a person. Then there were times those addictions happened overnight.

Liam was pretty sure he was on the latter half of that thought.

That’s why he was standing in a group krav maga class with a bunch of strangers on a Wednesday night. Brenda made it clear that he could train in her studio for free as long as he gave one day a week to Avery. Actually the conversation hadn’t quite happened that way.

As he was leaving the studio after Avery stormed out, he approached Brenda about returning to spar with her problem student. Brenda allowed it on the condition that he take classes with her group.

The class started with a warm-up that reminded Liam that he didn’t spend time in a gym. He never needed to in his profession. Yet as his crew had grown to twenty or so men doing most of the heavy lifting, Liam had softened up in the past couple of years.

Brenda paired him off with Craig, one of her trainers.

“Have you ever boxed?”

Liam shook his head.

“Weight lifting?”

“Do two-by-fours count?”

Craig had Liam’s height but not his broad shoulders or natural girth. That wasn’t to say the man was thin—he wasn’t.

Liam looked around the gym at the other men. Lots of them were on the thin side, but most of them seemed to punch like demons were talking in their ears.

“Sports?”

“High school, but that was a long time ago.”

Craig nodded. “Okay, let’s start with some basics.”

An hour and a half later Liam pulled into the driveway of his single story bungalow and put the truck in park. He looked at the backs of his hands.

Purple.

He thought of the bruises on Avery’s wrists and how they didn’t fit her perfectly manicured fingernails.

Liam jingled the keys to the front door and was greeted by Whiskey barking from the other side. He opened the door and braced himself.

His lab was sixty pounds of energy that should be reserved for puppies, but at seven years old, it was obvious she wasn’t going to settle down because of age.

He knelt down and let the dog crawl all over him, her tongue lapping his cheek.

“Did you miss me?”

“Your dog is crazy.” Michelle peeked around the corner from the kitchen, dish towel in hand.

“Uncle Liam.”

Liam knelt and caught his niece as she ran into his arms. He swung Cassandra up in the air to a chorus of giggles.

“You spoil her.”

He settled the spirited five-year-old on his hip and pinched her nose. “That’s my job.”

Whiskey barked at his feet, tail wagging, tongue hanging out. He stepped past the dog and into the kitchen. It smelled like his childhood home. “Pot roast?” he asked as his stomach approved with a growl.

“Mom’s recipe.”

He kissed his sister’s cheek. “You’re too good to me.”

“We live here rent free. It’s the least I can do.”

He’d heard that before. “Well, I appreciate it.”

Cassandra placed her hand on his cheek and pulled his attention away from her mother. “Uncle Liam, do you wanna see what I made in school today?”

She’d started kindergarten in the fall, and every day it was the same. From pictures colored with crayons, to watercolors, to plants growing in egg cartons that sat in the kitchen window, to decoupage plates with his pixie nosed niece smiling at the picture placed in the middle.

“Wash your hands.”

“Yes, Mom,” he teased his sister.

“I was talking to Cassie, but you should, too.”

He set Cassandra down and took her tiny hand in his. “You heard your mother.”

“Washy, washy . . . happy, happy.”

Liam laughed. “Where did she get that?”

Michelle shrugged. “Someone at school says it.”

“Mrs. Steel says germs are the enemy, and soap and water are the weapons.”

They walked into the bathroom, and Cassandra marched up on the two-step stool that put her at the right height to wash her hands on her own.

“I like Mrs. Steel.”

“She’s married. So you can’t like her too much.”

He laughed. “Good to know.”

Liam helped her with the soap dispenser and lathered his hands along with hers.

“Uncle Liam?”

“Yes, Pipsqueak?”

“When are you getting married?”

Not anytime soon.

“I don’t have a girlfriend, so I can’t get married.”

Cassandra considered him through their images in the bathroom mirror.

“Why don’t you have a girlfriend?”