Page 87 of Líadan's Code

A drama king even in death, I swear.

“I see,” I say drolly, opening my carton of drunken noodles. I don’t know why, but I’ve been craving so much lately. My period is the stuff of nightmares, and I never know when it’s going to pop up.

Because of how many issues birth control gave me, I don’t take any, and my uterus is so fucked, the possibility of getting pregnant shouldn’t be possible. “Did you run into anyone while you were out?”

“Yes, actually,” he says, popping the top of his food and picking up his chopsticks.

Brendan keeps me waiting as he gets some food and eats his own noodles. Taking a breath to pull patience I don’t have, I eat my own noodles, because my stomach is grumbling. The silence stretches on interminably as our food disappears, and I continue to stew in annoyance.

“We should take a taxi tomorrow to the warehouse if things continue like this,” he says, ignoring the mention that he ran into someone. “It’ll be easier than taking public transportation.”

We haven’t been back to the house to check on our cars because we’ve been too busy. I also am sure someone is watching the blackened building, whether it be police or one of Cormac’s men.

Public transport doesn’t bother me, and for the most part it’s easier to meld into the background.

“Mmhmm,” I murmur, closing my now empty carton and taking a sip of water. “Probably for the best.”

I’m unwilling to wait him out, placing my bottle down before reaching over and twisting his nipple ruthlessly.

“Ah, fuck!” he screams, trying to lean into the pain as I pull on it as well. “Lía!”

“Stop fucking with me and tell me who you ran into,” I snarl, releasing him. “The silent treatment makes me fucking crazy and you damn well know it. The next thing I’ll squeeze will be your balls, and I can assure you it won’t be in a fun way.”

“Fine, fine. Goddamn, milseán. I think you almost took my nipple clean off,” he complains, his lip piercing glinting in the dull lamp light as he licks his bottom lip. Rubbing his chest, he pouts at me, and I make grabby hands at his chest again.

“Tell me already,” I groan, irritated at being kept waiting. There is only one real reason that he’d procrastinate.

“Jordan was at the restaurant, just casually picking up his food order as if he wasn’t stalking me,” he says, getting up to throw the empty cartons of food away.

“If he found us, does that mean we need to move again?” I ask, thinking about how quickly I can throw my shit into a bag. I don’t have much after all, since Cormac burned all of my possessions. A pang fills me as I think about how everything is gone now that wasn’t in the basement.

“No, he sent Skyler packing, and Jordan would never hurt us. You know that,” Brendan says, crossing his arms as he comes to a stop in front of me. His shirt is riding up to expose his stomach, but I lean back in my chair to look up at him.

I don’t need to be at the same level with someone to know I’m equal to them, and that’s especially true of Brendan. Gaze firmly on his face and not the tattoos crawling up his arms and neck, I cross my legs with a nod.

“That was nice of him,” I say mildly. “Did he say anything else? I understand it had to have been a shock to wake up alone after being firebombed. It wasn’t one of my finer moments.”

Brendan holds my stare as he sighs. “No it wasn’t,” he growls. “You were scared. Jordan should have been given a choice after what happened.”

“He would have chosen us!” I exclaim. “Someone, somewhere would have exploited the weakness.”

“I’m one of your weaknesses because you love me. Should I leave too?” he asks, scowling.

My vision blackens at his words, a preview of what my life would look like without him. I can’t breathe. Wheezing gasps are the best I can do, animalistic sounds, because I’m terrified that he’ll get tired of my sad bullshit.

“Lía, stop!” he screams, dropping to his knees and pulling away my clawed fingers that are scratching at my throat. I didn’t even notice I did that, my motions jerky and unconscious.

“I’m not going anywhere, baby. I didn’t mean it. I’m sorry. Just breathe for me.”

Pulling me into his arms, I feel my chest loosen from the painful weight once my body is against his.

“I couldn’t bear it if something happened to you,” I rasp, tears beginning to stream down my face as I pull in deep breaths. The loosening of my body is the equivalent of releasing trauma, and the wet stuff is flowing.

“And nothing will. I’m frustrated,” he admits, brushing my hair off my face as he holds me. “Jordan was so cold, he said he didn’t deserve to be our cast off and only tracked me down to give you a birthday present.”

“Why would he do that?” I ask, turning so I’m straddling him. I’m in an oversized shirt and knee-high socks, since I wasn’t planning on leaving the room. It’s been a long day, and I’m ready to crash. “He really seemed cold?”

“Well, yeah. Jordan was picking up food when I arrived, and I could tell he looked familiar,” he explains. “When he turned, he smirked at me. I was in shock. I really thought he’d disappear by the time I got our food, but he was waiting for me at a table. He seemed disappointed in us, his face a mask as he explained that Sklyer had left town when he offered him a better opportunity. Then he said he’d be leaving town soon.”

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