Page 22 of Beckoning Liam

“Left,” Liam said abruptly, steering her down a side alley that took them to a busier street. The sudden shift disoriented theirpursuers for a moment, but Becks knew it wouldn’t last. Liam flagged down a taxi with a sharp whistle, the car screeching to a halt just as the first shout rang out behind them.

“Go!” Becks hissed, throwing open the door and sliding in, Liam right behind her. The driver hesitated, his eyes flicking to the approaching men.

“Airport,” Liam ordered, pressing a wad of cash into the driver’s hand. The man’s reluctance vanished, and the taxi lurched forward into the Istanbul traffic.

Becks twisted in her seat to look out the back window. Two men were pushing through the crowd, their focus locked on the taxi. One of them pulled out a phone, barking into it.

“They’ll have people at the airport,” she said, her voice tight. “This isn’t over.”

“It never is,” Liam said, his tone almost casual. He reached across the seat to take her hand, his grip firm and grounding. “But we’ll handle it.”

She wanted to believe him. The heat of his hand in hers was a comfort she couldn’t afford to dwell on. She looked at him, taking in the sharp line of his jaw, the determination in his eyes. For a moment, the chaos outside the taxi faded, replaced by startling clarity: if she had to face this, there was no one she’d rather have at her side.

The taxi weaved through traffic, the driver muttering curses in Turkish as he narrowly avoided a collision with a motorbike. The taxi screeched to a stop outside the airport, and Liam handed the driver another stack of cash. “Forget you ever saw us,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

They slipped out of the taxi and into the throng of travelers, their movements quick but deliberate. Becks could feel the weight of unseen eyes on them, the tension in the air like a coiled spring as he directed her toward the service entrance. They weaved through the maze of luggage, parts and people,managing to go unchallenged until they exited out onto the tarmac to catch their plane.

Having managed to avoid any kind of security, they joined the last group of passengers trudging up the flight deck and entered the plane.

The drone of the plane’s engines filled Becks’ ears as she leaned back, feigning relaxation. They’d barely made it out of Istanbul and were now headed to Lyon. The tension clung to her like a second skin. She could feel Liam beside her, his steady presence helping to take the edge off. The man was a loaded gun, and she wasn’t sure if she wanted to aim him at her enemies or keep him for herself.

A glance at the cabin showed a group of businessmen absorbed in their phones, a mother rocking a baby two rows up, and a few empty seats scattered toward the back. Innocent enough, if she didn’t know better.

Becks felt Liam’s arm brush hers, a light contact, but it sent a surge of arousal through her system. She shot him a sidelong glance. He was watching the cabin just as closely, his gaze dark and dangerous. It always amazed her how easily he shifted between softness and steel. He caught her eye, and his mouth curved into a faint, knowing smile.

“Relax, baby. We’ve got this,” he murmured, voice low, dripping with irony.

Becks snorted, giving him a pointed look. “We’ve got nothing. I feel like we know less now than we did before. And why Lyon? Why not Berlin or Paris?”

“Ahh, there’s nothing like a transcontinental flight with a target on our backs,” he quipped. “Why not Berlin? They’llbe waiting for us there. Why not Paris? Probably the same. Why Lyon? Because that’s where Interpol is headquartered, and we’ve got friends there. Cerberus has worked with Sophie Dubois in the past; she’s a cop in Lyon; we can trust her.” He took her hand in his, bringing it up to his lips to kiss. “Besides, it could be worse.”

“Could it?” She arched a brow, feigning calm even as her heart drummed a steady, reckless rhythm. “We’ve got at least two shadows trailing us—maybe three if the interest of that steward two rows down is anything to go on.”

He tilted his head, amusement flickering in his eyes. “That why you chose the window seat?”

Becks kept her expression level. “Wanted you to have a better view of the crowd.”

His grin widened. “Good girl.”

The charged tension grew heavy with the unspoken implications surrounding them. Her gaze darted to the exit row, mentally counting the steps. If they needed to make a quick escape once they landed, she’d rather not waste time. But planning ahead was useless if they didn’t make it that far.

“You see him?” she asked, her voice barely audible, nodding toward the aisle.

Liam’s eyes shifted, a subtle flick of dark lashes. “Back row, three seats down. Pretending to read a newspaper.”

“Classic,” she muttered, crossing one leg over the other in a way that brought her thigh closer to his. “Think he’ll make a move before we touch down?”

“Maybe. He’s one of Sokolov’s men—one of the ones who tried to kill us in Istanbul.” His fingers brushed hers, the contact sparking a heat that contrasted sharply with the danger looming just a few feet away. “But he doesn’t have a clue how brave and capable you are.”

Becks smirked, a thrill tightening in her chest. “You think he’s watching me?”

His eyes darkened, drifting from her face to her mouth with unmistakable interest. “Absolutely. You’re ever so much prettier than I am.”

“You don’t think I can handle him?”

“I think if you try doing it without me, you may well find it difficult to sit down when we get back to London.”

“Do you think we’ll get back home?” she asked almost wistfully.

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