Page 79 of Torched

“Liam seemed to be really digging it before he met you.” She tries to stab.

“That’s right!Beforehe met me. You see, you don’t know you’re slumming it until you get the best in your hands.”

“You got nothing on me, bitch.”

“Bitch?” I repeat, gripping my heart with a smile. “Oh, really, Cris? You can’t do any better than that? I take it back, maybe you’re right, maybe you’re not the villain in this story. I’m pretty sure the villain is supposed to be more inventive with their banter.”

“I can be really inventive when I kill you,” she seethes, her dark eyes growing luminous.

“And no sense of humor. Sorry, I forgot that one,” I add, undisturbed, while Liam just smirks at me. “What do you think, baby? Does she make the cut for the villain?”

Liam shrugs. “Fine by me. The villain never wins anyway.”

Cristina opens her mouth to counter, but Liam cuts her off when he snaps his fingers, pointing at something at the dock. “Look, she’s here.”

Our necks turn, watching a woman being pushed in a wheelchair toward the restaurant. Her brown hair is perfectly styled, and a flowery dress covers her legs while she’s being pushed by a girl in jeans shorts and a t-shirt. Her soft brown curls are sitting in a messy bun on top of her head while one of them has sprung free and is now bouncing through the air with every step she takes. Her fake Louis Vuitton bag is hanging loosely on her shoulder, and her sweet, radiant smile shows her age in every way. She’s probably not older than twenty, and she gives all the vibes of someone who genuinely enjoys taking care of someone.

It’s clear they come here daily as we watch in silence how they slowly stroll toward the bar, while the caretaker girl greets every one of the staff. I scan the length of her entire body, trying to find a set of keys in any of her pockets, assuming they are in her bag when I can’t spot any awkward bulges in the denim.

“You’re up, baby,” Liam tells me, and I nod before I get up.

“What’s the plan?” Cristina asks.

“Youjust sit tight like a good little doggie.” I swirl my finger in her face before pointing it at Liam as I begin to walk backward with a smirk on my face. “Youflirt with me.”

His eyebrows knit together above his sunglasses. “What do you mean?”

“Come on, baby, you got better than that.” I keep my steps steady, my gaze never leaving his. In my head, I’ve counted it to be ten to fifteen big strides backward.

“Where are you going?” Liam asks, a little louder this time.

“Why?” I beam. “You wanna come?”

He laughs when he realizes what I’m doing. “You know I’ll catch you anyway.”

“You’re going to catch me?”

“You want me to?” He gets up, his ominous steps following mine.

I nod, showing him my teeth with a mischievous grin.

Eleven.

Twelve.

“Run fast, baby!” The moment the words release from his throat, I turn around with a shriek, running into the caretaker girl and knocking her on her ass. I follow right behind her, landing almost on top of her with wide eyes. My knees connect with the wood, and I hold myself up on my palms.

“Oh, my God! I’m so sorry!” My palm covers my mouth, while my eyes quickly scan the contents of her bag that are now spread out on the deck. “Are you okay?” A notebook, her phone, some receipts, beauty products. Finally, I lock my gaze with the set of keys, a cute little slipper keychain attached to the metal.

“Baby, you know we can’t play these games in public anymore.” Liam gives me a slight reprimand as soon as he’s within reach. “Someone is bound to get hurt at some point.” Then he points his expression at the girl. “Are you okay?”

A little stunned, she pushes the air from her lungs. “Yeah, I’m okay.”

“I’m so sorry!” I cry out again with red cheeks while I start putting her stuff back in her bag. “I like to tease him, but I really should be more careful.” I slip her set of keys into my back pocket in the blink of an eye before I continue with the rest of the stuff that slipped out.

“It’s okay, really.” She chuckles while Liam helps her get back on her feet. Loranne is still sitting in her wheelchair, her eyes never even moving anywhere else than right in front of her. Man, she really is nothing more than a vegetable.

“Can I buy you a drink?” I hand her bag back with an apologetic smile.

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