Page 43 of Southie
As quickly as the words spilled from her mouth, my head shook in disagreement. Who else was to blame other than me? No one wanted to hurt her. They’d done this to get back at me. If I wasn’t the blame, who was?
“Stop it, Liam. Your grandmother wouldn’t want you to place that burden on yourself.”
How did I explain my life to her? How did I make clear to her more than likely this was a hit against the Enforcer of the New England Irish Mob? I dropped my head to keep from looking her in the eyes any longer. I knew good and damn well this was all on me. The man my grandmother had thought I was no longer existed. No matter how much she’d tried to convince me otherwise, all that happened was because of my goddamn job.
“Liam?”
Camilla stepped closer, placing her smooth palm against my cheek. With my eyes closed, I leaned into her touch. After a few moments, the wetness of her tears touched my skin, and the softness of her lips moved against mine.
“I’m here for you. Let it go.”
I pulled her body as close as possible to deepen our kiss. When she pulled away, what I saw reflected in her eyes had my knees buckling. Beyond physical attraction, Camilla’s concern for my well-being was genuine. No other woman besides my grandmother had ever given a shit about me, not even my mother.
I pulled her body close to me again, and with my face in the crook of her neck, my grief took over.
For the first time in more than ten years, I cried for the only woman who’d showed me unconditional love, no matter what I did or who I became. To her, I’d always be her Liam.
Chapter 8
Camilla
My last visit to a police station hadn’t been under the best circumstances. Now, I despised anything related to law enforcement. The officers and detectives I’d dealt with at the time of my incident with Franklin had been more concerned with his family’s money and notoriety than my safety. However, today wasn’t about me. My distrust of the police wouldn’t interfere with getting justice for Mrs. Daugherty.
I shifted in my seat, anxiety rising, and my grip tightened on Liam’s hand the closer we came to the station. Horrible memories flooded my mind. When I’d recovered enough after the incident in Georgia to speak with the police outside of the hospital, my trust of them doing the right thing for victims dwindled. The questions they’d asked had dealt more with my life than the incident that landed Franklin in jail. Charlotte’s police department wasn’t any better. The harder I fought to get some protection against Franklin and his family’s harassment, the worse it became.
Liam watched me intently, shifting his attention between me and the highway. His ability to pick up on the change in my mood considering our brief time of knowing one another was insane.
“You good?” he asked.
My leg bounced, and I shook my head. Nothing was good about my situation. Sooner rather than later, I would have to tell him about Frankie.
We pulled into the parking lot of the station, and I groaned.
“You want to talk about it?” he asked after he put the truck in park.
No, I didn’t want to talk about it, but I had to. We were getting close. Or, at least it appeared we were getting close. Him being in the dark about the harassment would bite me in the ass later if we tried to make whatever this was between us work.
“I have little confidence in the police because of some things in my life,” I said.
“You want to talk about it before we head in? It might make you more comfortable.”
“No, let’s talk to the police first. Then, when we get home, we’ll talk about it.”
“Home, huh?” he asked with a smirk.
My chin dipped. A blush crept across my cheeks, and I covered my face with my hands. I hadn’t even realized I’d called his placehome. I’d only been inside his home one day. One fucking day, and I thought I belonged there. Belonged to him. Could he be in my life with so much shit going on? I had no idea, but I wanted to try. No matter how fast it happened or how stupid it may be, I wanted to be with him.
“Come on. Let’s get this shit over with so we can get backhome,” he said, getting out the truck, chuckling.
He opened the door to help me out, and I giggled when he grabbed my hand. The smile on his face was contagious.
Hand in hand, we walked toward the police station.
“You’re not going to let me live that down, are you? So embarrassing.”
He stopped and looked in my eyes. “Hell no. It sounds too good to be true.”
He starting walking again, but I grabbed his arm to stop him. “Wait, what do you mean ‘it sounds too good to be true’?”
