Page 151 of The Savior

CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN

Pregnant. Their game of wits and deception changed with one word. But Liam’s attack plan suddenly became clear. It was as if the world around him paused, and he could map out the steps needed to disarm the room.

Then his mind snapped back, ready to throw a right hook at Pham and immediately disarm his right-hand man—an explosion detonated.

He was blown back. Reverb shook the building. Liam caught himself as another explosion hit.

He and Chelsea had given Zulu Actual time, and now explosions blasted on top of the roof. Smoke and fire rained, and he lunged for Pham. They rolled to the ground. Pham’s bodyguard dove onto their pile.

He didn’t know whose hands were whose. No one would shoot. Not with Pham in the tussle, and Liam caught the guard with a punch.

The break in the action let Liam pull back just as his peripheral caught the sight of people in tactical gear dropping in on rope lines.

Liam dug his shoulder into Pham, and his guard wrapped a hand around Liam’s throat. They fumbled and rolled, then the bodyguard jerked, noticing the fast-moving tactical assault.

Gasping, Liam used the diversion and took the guard’s weapon. He jammed the handgun into the soft flesh under Pham’s jaw. The bodyguard rolled away, and Liam pulled Pham onto his feet.

“You killed Julia.” Liam’s blood raced hot. Vengeance tunneled his vision as he remembered the first moment he’d noticed the old man on the Metro.

Eyes bulging, lips snarling, Pham shouted for Liam to pull the trigger. Images of the subway’s carpet, soaked with Julia’s blood, burned behind Liam’s eyes.

Liam’s name reverberated from miles away, but he couldn’t break from the need for revenge. He was locked in a trance, tormented by the past and present, by Chelsea’s face—her words—their pregnancy.

“Liam.” Chelsea grasped his shoulders. “Stop!”

But he couldn’t. She was pregnant! He caressed the trigger that would make him safe and sane again.

“Pull the trigger,” Pham whispered.

His breath burned, and his teeth clenched. Rage tore him apart—and disgust. Liam shook, throat dry and body sweating. Chelsea was pregnant.A baby. Because of that, he couldn’t commit murder.

Liam stepped back, his arm dropping down. From far away, he sensed the gun removed from his hands, and he squeezed his eyes shut.

The swish of tactical gear and a gentle touch pulled him back to reality. Chelsea stood in front of him. One hand rested on his cheek, worry coloring her expression.

“It’s okay,” she said. “Everything is okay.”

His hands trembled. Regret and relief battled as he understood what he’d done—nothing.

“Liam, look at me.”

Wasn’t he?

“Liam.” Chelsea took his hands in hers. “It’s over.”

It was. He shook free of vengeful spell that blinded his rational, and he inhaled as though he hadn’t taken a breath in hours—then pulled Chelsea to his chest.

She cried in relief and clung like that first night in the bar, when they didn’t know the stakes or what was to come.

Liam stroked her hair.“Are you okay?”

She half laughed, half cried. “You’re the one with a leg sliced open who dissociated in rage.”

“I couldn’t kill him.”

“You are better than that,” she promised. “You did what was right.”

Rightcould mean so many thing, but he knew what it meant for them and would never do anything to jeopardize their future—Chelsea had saved him. Liam dropped his forehead to hers. “I love you.”

Tears streamed down her cheeks. “I know. I love you too.”

Noise and chatter mixed with sirens. New boots rushed in, but nothing would tear him away from her. “You’re pregnant?”

“I didn’t know and—”

“Sunshine.” He grinned. “I mean… holy shit.We’regoing to have a baby.”

She beamed through the tears. “We are.”

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