Page 31 of Captive Lies

“Call it whatever you want. Now,” he said in a steadier tone. “Tell me where youare.”

11

Blaire

“He’s okay.”

I sagged into the motel sofa, its lumpy cushions settling uncomfortably under my tense muscles. My body felt like it had consumed an inordinately high amount of caffeine and I was experiencing acrash.

“You’re going back to him?” Liam asked, presumably because he heard me give Grant directions to our location. My friend helped me escape from Grant and he tried to talk me out of it at first, but I threatened to leave on my own. We’d been holed up in a motel in Plymouth, an hour outside Boston. Liam and I used the Dark Web to keep tabs on the criminal underworld, anonymously monitoring common chatrooms to gather information and get a pulse on whether something was about to go down. We knew Russian Organized Crime (ROC) used it and, apparently, they knew we did as well. It was there we discovered that a couple of their associates went after Grant, butfailed.

“He’s going to get himself killed if Idon’t.”

“Sweetheart, I don’t think a man who’s made it to the top like Grant Thorne would be stupid enough to get himselfkilled.”

“He said he was going to dig deeper into who attacked him,” I snapped. “Why would he dothat?”

“He’s getting you back, isn’the?”

My relief that Grant was okay trumped my infuriation at his persistence. I looked regretfully at Liam. “I’ve wasted your efforts to get me away fromhim.”

“I tried to talk you out of it, remember?” Liam reminded me. “My opinion? You’re better off with him right now because he has the resources to hire enough security to protectyou.”

“But it’s not about my safety anymore, is it?” I pointed out. “What about his family? His father is a United States Senator, for goodness’ sake. Who I am will ruin hisfamily.”

“Never talk about yourself that way, Blaire,” Liam said. “We don’t choose our families and your father tried to do right in theend.”

“Grant knows about the guns and passports,Liam.”

“Shit. That means he has the flash drives as well. You’ll have to tell himsomething.”

“Will you come withme?”

“No,” he sighed. “It’s been two years. I failed you and your father the first time. You’re not hiding from Mikhail Orlov forever.” He returned his attention to the piece of wood he was carving. This had been his hobby for as long as I’d known him. He’d make intricate miniature wooden sculptures—animals were his favorite. Right now, he was working on a bear. He’d never given me any of his little masterpieces, though I asked himonce.

“Maybe when I’m dead and buried”was his response, and I never asked again. I think woodworking relaxed him. I wished I could say the same with my painting. I couldn’t paint when I wastense.

The months I’d been with Grant, I hadn’t seen Liam consistently. It saddened me that the days of driving a mile down the road whenever I needed company were over. He was all I’d known since we’d run from the Russianmob.

“It’s my fault we’re on his radar again,” I said. “We were supposed to bedead.”

“He had suspicions we faked our deaths. I told you this. Grant may be our silverlining.”

“Howso?”

“You’ll have someone else to watch over younow.”

My heart constricted. “Liam.”

“I won’t be able to protect you forever, Wren,” he said. “But I have a feeling Grant Thornewill.”

My throat burned at his words. “We’ll figure this out.” I echoed Grant’s words and reached out to hold my friend’s hand. “Please, Liam, come withme.”

He smiled sadly. “I’m so close to getting us what we need, but I will contact you. By the way, lose the phone you used to call Grant and use anotherburner.”

Liam had made headway in finding out who had the other piece of evidence that would support what we already had against the ROC. I knew he avoided taking risks because of me. He didn’t want me to be alone in this world, but he’d developed a grudging respect for Grant in the past months, especially in the way he cared for me. I was afraid of what was to come, but if there was one thing life on the run had taught me about Liam, he wasn’t afraid of anything except abandoning me to the mercy of the Russianmafia.

“Grant may drop us when he realizes how much trouble we’re in,” I told him in part because it was a strong possibility, and partly because I didn’t want him to besuicidal.

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