Page 20 of Beckoning Liam

A slight tremor crossed his fingers, betraying his nerves, but he didn’t break eye contact. Liam could see his right hand dip toward his pocket, slow and deliberate. Liam moved first, his hand gripping the man’s wrist, pressing it down as he leaned in and took the man’s wallet from his inside jacket pocket.

“Listen,” Liam’s voice was a low and controlled, “if you want to make it out of here alive, you’re going to stay in that seat until we land. No reaching, no sudden moves. Understand?”

The man’s face paled, his bravado fading as he muttered a reluctant, “Understood.”

Liam stepped closer, his voice equally quiet. “And when we land, you’re going to get off the plane first and keep walking. Don’t stop; don’t look back and if there’s anyone waiting for you, you’re going to lead them away. I’ve got your wallet. If anything goes wrong, I’ll be paying a visit to your apartment with your lovely wife and adorable children. Got it?”

The man swallowed, nodding stiffly. Liam released his wrist, watching as he lowered his hand in defeat, face sullen. They held their ground a moment longer before stepping back, returning to their seats. As Liam settled back in, he felt a small flicker of relief, but it was short-lived. The game wasn’t over yet, and Istanbul was still a long way away.

Liam navigated the streets of Istanbul with a predator's grace, the weight of his purpose anchoring each step. The city was a living organism—a tapestry woven from threads of ancient history and modern chaos, pulsating with life in the afternoon sun. He could feel its heartbeat synchronizing with the urgency that coursed through his veins.

"Keep close," Liam instructed Becks, his voice low but carrying over the din of mingled conversations and distant music.

"I'm right behind you," she replied, her tone betraying none of the discomfort she felt entering this clandestine world. Her violet eyes were wide, absorbing details like a sponge.

They slipped into a nondescript tea house, the scent of jasmine and tobacco wrapping around them like a shroud. This was where answers could be found—if one knew whom to ask. Liam scanned the room, spotting a familiar face nestled in the back corner. A nod was all it took for an audience to be granted.

"O'Shea," murmured the man known as Karim, a burly figure with eyes that had seen more than their fair share of secrets. "And this must be the infamous Dr. Ashworth."

"Karim," Liam greeted with a nod, his stance protective yet allowing Becks the space to stand on her own. "We need information about Cezar Baro and his new allies."

"Come now, Liam," Karim said, motioning them to sit, "you know the price of secrets here."

Becks felt the tension, a tangible thread stretching between the men. She leaned forward, her voice steady, "We're prepared to pay."

Karim's gaze shifted to her, a flicker of surprise crossing his features before he masked it with a wry smile. "You've chosen a fierce one, O'Shea," he commented, a hint of respect lacing his words.

"Becks is full of surprises," Liam said, the pride evident even as he maintained his guarded composure.

As they left the tea house, stepping once more into the teeming streets, Becks felt the shift within her. She was no longer just an observer; she was a participant in this shadowy game. Liam's hand found hers.

"You did well in there," he said, his eyes reflecting the moonlight, sharp and luminous.

"Thank you, Sir," she replied, allowing a trace of their private dynamic to surface.

His response was a squeeze of her hand, a wordless exchange that spoke volumes. They were partners in every sense, their connection deepening amid the intrigue that surrounded them.The city might hold many secrets, but none as profound as the bond they shared, a bond that would sustain them through the trials ahead.

Chapter Nine

Becks

Becks trailed a step behind Liam as they wove through one of the bustling bazaars of Istanbul, her senses alive with the cacophony of haggling voices and the heady combination of scents that hung in the air. She kept close, knowing the importance of their seamless facade. They moved as one entity, a pair bound by a mission whose roots were as ancient as the city itself.

"Left here," she murmured, touching the small of his back lightly, guiding him through the throng with a familiarity that belied the adrenaline coursing through her veins. The brush of her fingers was light but deliberate, an unspoken communication of their shared purpose—and the trust that had grown between them.

Liam nodded, barely glancing at her as they turned into a narrower alleyway. His voice was low, the brogue softened by a polished, upper-class British accent he used when he needed it, yet it rumbled with an authority that sent a shiver down her spine. In their game of shadows, he was the dominant lead, a protector forged from necessity and the kind of raw strength that could not be assumed, only earned.

"Karim said it was here." Becks stopped before a decrepit wall, its stones telling tales of a time long forgotten. Her fingers traced the contours of an almost invisible seam, the ancient language of those who had come before, flowing through her mind like a river breaking free from a dam. “Here,” she said quietly triumphant.

"Good eye," Liam acknowledged, his hand resting atop hers for a moment, warmth seeping into her skin. He pushed against the stone; it gave way with a quiet groan, revealing the gaping maw of a hidden catacomb below.

"Watch your step," he warned, descending first into the darkness. The catacombs swallowed them whole as they navigated the tight corridors and skeletal remains of a world suspended in time.

"Over here," Becks beckoned, her voice echoing softly against the cold walls. She crouched next to a faded inscription, the words a puzzle only she could decipher.

"Anything?" Liam's presence loomed behind her, his body heat a flame that contrasted with the chill of their surroundings.

"Patience, O'Shea." Becks couldn't help the smile tugging at her lips. "It's a cipher—a map of sorts." Her heart pounded with the thrill of the chase. When had she become an adrenaline junkie? Each symbol unlocked another step closer to the truth. But she felt his gaze on her, intense and unyielding, reminding her that in this tangle of history and intrigue, they were utterly alone.

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