Page 11 of Beckoning Liam

"Keep your eyes open," he murmured to Becks, his voice low enough to blend with the rustle of leaves and the murmur of tourists.

Becks nodded, her gaze flicking from one strolling couple to the next, from the art students lost in their sketchbooks to the businessman on a bench with his sandwich and newspaper.

They wove through the crowd, as inconspicuous as two lovers meandering through the garden's splendor. Yet beneath this veneer of calm, Liam's senses were strung tight, every nerve attuned to the danger. His hand rested casually near the concealed weapon at his side, ready to draw at the next sign of trouble.

"Feels too exposed out here," Becks said, her tone casual but Liam heard the tension lacing her words.

"Anonymity is our camouflage," he replied, his eyes scanning a group of teenagers laughing around a selfie stick. "We're just another story in the city's narrative."

"Until we become the headline," she quipped, though the humor wasn’t reflected in her eyes.

A sudden shout echoed across the garden, followed by the clamor of startled pigeons taking flight. Liam's body tensed, ready to spring into action, but it was only a child who had wandered too close to the fountain's edge. Laughter followed, yet the momentary chaos was a stark reminder of their fragility amidst this urban theater.

"Can't shake the feeling we're being watched," Becks said quietly, her hand squeezing his as they rounded a sculpted hedge.

"Because we are," Liam confirmed, his voice a low growl that spoke of dark rooms where his commands were law. "But I won't let them get you."

"Promise?" The single word was laden with complexities that reached beyond the imminent threat, hinting at the growing feeling that seemed to simmer between them.

"Absolutely." The word was a vow, a pledge forged in the adrenaline of their shared peril.

An electric tension crackled, charged with the promise of what lay ahead—danger entwined with desire, the razor-thin line on which they balanced. As they continued making their way back to the boat, the iconic landmarks bore witness to their flight, the very stones of Paris seeming to hold their breath in anticipation of the coming storm.

Liam's pulse throbbed in his ears, a rhythmic counterpoint to the distant hum of Parisian life as he scanned the maze paths of theJardin des Tuileries. The garden was an oasis of tranquility amidst the urban thrum, with its manicured lawns and artful arrangements of flora that danced beneath the dappled sunlight. But Liam knew better than to succumb to the deceptive calm; they carried the weight of the puzzle they were putting together—the knowledge ofDrStefani Umbraand the terror they harbored within their ranks.

Together, he and Becks made their way through the garden, dodging startled tourists and weaving through the crowds with the desperation of the hunted. The adrenaline coursed through Liam's veins, an addictive rush that sharpened his senses even as it threatened to overwhelm him.

"Stay right behind me!" he ordered softly, feeling Becks' presence at his back, her breath coming in quick gasps. They darted across a street, narrowly avoiding the onslaught of traffic, grabbed their scooter, and escaped into the maze of narrow alleys that crisscrossed the city.

As her arm encircled him, Liam realized she had to have noticed that he’d been wounded during Sokolov's attack.

“You’re hurt,” she said. “We need to get some medical supplies and find a place where I can patch you up.”

He nodded. “Cerberus has safe houses all over Europe. I’ll find one, but we need to get out of the city.”

Behind them, the sirens grew fainter, but the danger was far from over. Liam knew that Sokolov wouldn't be deterred soeasily, and that their flight through the streets of Paris was only the beginning of a much longer game—a game where surrender was not an option, and the stakes were life or death.

Chapter Five

Becks

Becks' heart pounded a staccato rhythm that echoed the thrum of the scooter's engine as they wove through the Parisian traffic. Her arms, wrapped tight around Liam's waist, felt every flex and shift of his muscles as he maneuvered them deftly back to the rental shop. She could still taste the danger in the air, a metallic tang that lingered on her tongue and stirred an intoxicating cocktail of fear and arousal within her.

"Keep close to me," Liam muttered as they returned the scooter, his voice low and commanding. It sent an involuntary shiver down her spine, awakening a craving for his dominance that was both comfort and fire.

"Yes, Sir," she whispered with a quickened breath, following him into the waiting cab. The leather of the seat was cool against her skin, but Liam's nearness ignited a warmth that belied the cold material. His gaze locked with hers, intense and probing, a promise of protection.

"Le Maison des Arts," he instructed the driver before turning his attention back to Becks. "We'll need to be cautious from here on out."

A nod was all she managed before the cab pulled away from the curb, the city blurring past as they made a brief stop at apharmacy. Liam gathered bandages, antiseptics, and a few other necessities with swift efficiency. He paid in cash, crisp notes exchanged without a trace of the turmoil that twisted inside her.

The Maison des Arts emerged from the labyrinth of the Marais district, its facade unassuming yet elegant. Liam led the way inside, his steps purposeful. At the reception desk, he presented a credit card and ID, both bearing an assumed name.

"Mr. and Mrs. Lachlan," he said smoothly, the alias rolling off his tongue as if it were his birthright.

Becks wondered how many identities he’d had to assume in his time with MI6? How many times had he stood at the brink of peril, unflinching?

"Here are your keys," the concierge announced, unaware of the undercurrents flowing between them. "Enjoy your stay."

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