Page 4 of Liv Parrish

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Three days have passed since I left that small apartment downtown, but Liv has not been far from my thoughts once. As expected, there is little information available on her. Her apartment as well as the whole building is owned by a doctor Ren Mayfield, who runs a clinic in the space below the apartment, but there is a lease agreement for a Liv Parrish.

My Liv. She’s twenty-four years old, and originally from Texas. Her mom was a single parent, now deceased, and there’s no father mentioned on the birth certificate. It does mention it was a twin birth. She has a brother named Luke and I smile as I remember her telling me about her mom’s love of single syllable names. Apparently, that extends to names starting with L. Is it too much to hope that the clothes belong to him? He joined the Marines right after graduating high school, which also happened to be two months after their mother was killed in a car accident. I’m not sure how I feel about that, leaving his only remaining family on her own when they were both so young. His twin at that. Aren’t twins supposed to have some special bond that other siblings don’t? Why would he leave her like that? Maybe this explains her reaction when I asked about the clothes. If they aren’t close, any reminders of him might be unpleasant for her, but then why have the clothes in the first place?

School and college transcripts speak of a straight A student who excelled in math and science. Liv became a qualified paramedic, which explains her knowledge of first aid, and worked with a fire station in Austin until just over a year ago when she resigned her position and started moving around from state to state, not staying in one place for more than a few months at a time. She signed the lease with Ren three months ago and took a job at a place called Stopgap which appears to be a youth center situated close to her apartment. That’s it, bare bones information, because I refuse to dig any further. If she worked as a paramedic, she would have had to undergo police clearance, which is good enough for me, even if it was years ago. There’s no way she’s involved in the crimes we’re investigating, no matter how coincidental our meeting. Neither Liv nor Ren have social media accounts or much of an online presence at all, which is unusual but not completely unheard of. So that’s it, her life at a glance, but it's not enough to satisfy my curiosity and I’m starting to worry that it will never be enough to satisfy my craving for her. I want to see her again, fill in all the gaps and hear everything I learned in her own words. And share my story with her as well. I do need to return the sweatshirt she gave me, not that I need an excuse, but if there is even the smallest chance that she will let me into her life, I’ll take it.

By the time I make it downtown it’s just after six in the evening and the sun is casting an orange-red hue over the city, softening the jagged edges of the skyline. The clinic is already closed for the day and there are only a few cars parked close by. I wonder if one of them belongs to Liv, but surely, she would have used it rather than walking late at night in a bad neighborhood as she did when we met. All these concerns run through my head as I climb the stairs to her apartment after prying open the lock a five-year-old could have figured out, and I make mental notes of all the security issues in this building that will need to be addressed posthaste. Even if nothing ever comes of the time we spent together, there is no way I’m going to be comfortable with her living here unprotected.

I knock on her door while holding the sweatshirt in my free hand and it occurs to me, I should have brought her something, maybe some takeout, a handy excuse to spend more time in her company even if it is a surprise visit and she’s not expecting me, but before I can give it any more thought the door opens. Only, it’s not Liv standing in the doorway. It’s a man. He looks to be about my age, in his early thirties, not as tall as I am and with a leaner build, and I immediately conclude that he is not the owner of the sweatshirt. It doesn’t make me feel any better about finding him here in Liv’s apartment.

“Can I help you?” There is a hint of impatience to his tone, but it’s overruled by his apparent curiosity.

“Is Liv home? I wanted to drop this off for her and say hello.” He looks at me with blatant interest now, as if trying to work out if he should recognize me from somewhere, and then deciding he doesn’t.

“No, sorry. She won’t be back for a while. You can give that to me. I’ll make sure she gets it.” He holds out his hand and I reluctantly hand over my only remaining connection to the woman I obviously know nothing about, and now it seems I never will. I can accept her being private but being in a relationship is a deal breaker. I don’t poach, ever.

“Thanks, appreciate it.” I turn to leave and almost collide with a woman who managed to sneak up behind me while my attention was focused on the man in Liv’s apartment. She’s only slightly taller than Liv, curvy and has the most amazing red hair tied up in a ponytail on top of her head, much the same way Liv wore hers the night we met. Based on the little information I found, this must be Ren Mayfield.

“Whoops, sorry.” She gives me a friendly smile before turning her focus to the man in the doorway. “Hey, Evan, when you’re done talking to your friend come downstairs. I need to run something by you.”

Evan. Two syllables that settle like a rock in my gut.

“Sure, I’ll be down in a sec.” It’s clear they know each other and that she was expecting to find him here which just adds to that heavy feeling. It doesn’t matter, I need to go and put this whole episode behind me. Maybe first convince myself it’s possible to do so.

“Go ahead, I won’t keep you.” I turn again to leave, but the woman doesn’t move out of my way. I raise my head to look at her and I swear she sees my struggle as if it were projected on a movie screen. She studies me for a few seconds and then she smiles. It’s warm, reassuring and makes me want to stay right here in this hallway outside an apartment I’m not welcome in. Maybe I never was, but that feels like a lie my head is trying to convince my heart is true, and my heart is not ready to accept.

“See you around, handsome.” She winks before turning away. What? My mouth opens but the question doesn’t come out and then it’s too late because she’s already heading back the way she came. The guy, Evan clears his throat to gain my attention and I look back at him.

“Don’t mind her. Come on, I’ll walk you out.” And he does, making sure I’m all the way out the building before going back inside, not sparing me a second glance. So, I do the only thing I can, I get into my car and drive to my empty apartment where I spend my hours wondering what exactly I walked away from.

Chapter 2

~ Liv ~

A starburst of brilliant white light explodes in my head as pain sears across my cheek, dragging me back into consciousness. It takes a moment for all the puzzle pieces to connect; where I am and what’s happening, partially because this was not the first blow to my head, and also there’s a big hairy Russian shouting in my face, in Russian. He knows I don’t speak the language, we covered this earlier, but I’m not about to remind him while he’s in his current mood. Imagine for a moment all those scenes in action movies where a hostage is tied to a chair in a dark, dingy, abandoned warehouse, and you’ll have some idea of what’s happening here. Add to that the aforementioned Russian and you’ll be correct in guessing I’m not having a fantastic day.

Shards of memory like pieces of a broken mirror come rushing back, fitting haphazardly into place. I was at Stopgap when two men showed up, wanting to talk to some of the boys hanging out, outside the building. Seeing as the center is specifically geared towards troubled youths in the area, it does sometimes attract unwanted attention from those wanting to exploit and abuse kids, like these two strange men, with their Russian accents and sleazy vibes. Who knows what motivates them? Money earned from drugs, cheap labor, human trafficking. It could be anything. Following them to find out might not have been my smartest move, though. I’ve always been a little impulsive and not always as aware of the dangers around me as I should be, but I might be in real trouble right now. I’ve been here a few hours, judging by the dark sky visible through a row of broken windows as well as the numbness in my arms and legs, but I can’t tell anything for sure at this point. Another blow and my ears start ringing. Everything in my line of sight has a black tinge to it and I can feel myself starting to lose focus. Yep, definitely real trouble.

“Tell me who sent you!” This time in heavily accented English. God, my head hurts, but if I want to get out of here, I need to stay present and aware, even if that feels like an impossible task.

Out of nowhere a memory of Heath flashes behind my closed eyelids, lying in that alley, beaten bloody and hurt, but then just as quickly morphs into him sitting on my sofa admitting to being ticklish while giving me his gorgeous smile which I refused point blank to acknowledge before he was standing at my door with his friends and then walking out of my life. Hard to believe that was almost three months ago, but I find myself thinking of him often, of his physical appearance which had me ogling him like an obsessed teenager, but more importantly because of the kind of man I’m convinced he is. I’ll admit I regret the way things ended between us. Of course, that’s entirely my fault, because I could see he wasn’t ready to walk away and that he felt our connection as strongly as I did, but I practically pushed him out the door anyway, so overwhelmed by his presence I couldn’t think straight. It’s probably a good thing I wasn’t home when he returned Luke’s sweatshirt. I would have just said something to make the situation more awkward, like begging him to stay, or kissing him again! I can only imagine what Heath must think of me, but it doesn’t really matter. Attraction aside, there’s no future for us. I came to that realization as I lay on my sofa that night, while he lay sleeping in my bed. Even though we live in the same city, we are worlds apart from each other and I’ve been hurt before by a man who needed me once, consumed every part of me, only to throw my love back in my face. I would have given that man everything, he didn’t even have to ask, but it wasn’t enough. As it turns out, women don’t hold sole mandate on being fickle creatures.

I wonder what Heath’s doing right now. I bet he could get me out of this without breaking a sweat, being a badass Navy SEAL and all. Yes, I saw the frog bone tattoo on his chest when I first found him in that alley and recognized it from the few times I met some of Luke’s friends. Current situation aside, I’m not a complete idiot. There’s no way I would have dragged a stranger to my apartment if I didn’t think he was honorable, and the way Heath tried to look out for me gave me all the assurance I needed. Of course, there is zero chance of him showing up here, but that doesn’t stop me from trying to concentrate on the memory of his handsome face to distract myself from my bloody wrists and ankles caused by the rope tying me to this chair, the pain radiating throughout my body from the numerous punches doled out by my Russian friend, and the throbbing in my brain which I’m worried might mean I have a concussion.

Piercing blue eyes that look straight into your soul, a nose so perfect it must have been cast from a mold and those lips! Full and wide, totally kissable when he’s not smiling the kind of smile that must make women stupid with lust. Just the right amount of facial hair to make your fingers long to run over his chiseled jaw. His skin was tanned as if he spent more time on the west coast than here, or maybe he was recently deployed to some far-off desert. Either way, it enhanced each of his features to the point where you almost needed to look away from the astounding perfection. Sandy brown hair that hung slightly over his eyes complete the vision, and that’s all above the neck! Even with his injuries, his body was a work of art. Broad shoulders, ripped muscles and a sixpack that made my mouth water. God was undoubtedly showing off the day He created Heath, that’s for sure, but I turned my back on him, so now some other lucky lady is enjoying the view and I’m stuck here with Mr. Hairy Russian who has been joined by a friend carrying a towel and two giant buckets of water. Oh shit!

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I open my eyes on a gasp, expecting to fight for breath with my lungs on fire … but this is not where I was before. I’m in a hospital bed, in a room that is far too bright from the sun’s rays shining through the flimsy curtains, but on the upside, nothing hurts, which seems odd. The warehouse. The screaming Russian. That did happen. I couldn’t have imagined it.

Before I can put the pieces together, Nick’s voice calls out to me, “Hey Little Pain, how’re you feeling? Must I call the nurse?” His Irish accent immediately soothes my nerves and I close my eyes for a moment, savoring the familiarity of his presence. I turn my head slowly to look at him and there it is, blinding pain in my head and neck, shooting down my spine and causing a tingling sensation in my fingers and toes. I wince, then take another deep breath, exhaling slowly through my nose. He leans closer, waiting for my answer.

“Hey, you came for me. I should have known it would be you. At this rate I’m never going to be done owing you for saving my life.” It comes out in a croaky whisper, scoring my throat and causing my eyes to water which feels awful because they are sore and swollen, like the rest of my face. Nick jumps out of his seat to press the call button for the nurse, before falling back in the chair.

“Of course, I came for you. Someone had to save you from yourself, running around where you don’t belong. Fucking hell girl, what were you thinking? The fucking Russians?!” Ouch, way to kick a girl when she’s down, but he isn’t done yet. “I can’t collect on my debt if you’re dead, now, can I? Have to keep a close eye on you, seeing as you don’t have the good sense God gave a goat.” He grunts in disgust, and I sink back into my pillows like the scolded child he makes me feel.

We’ve had this discussion before, usually when he’s busy reprimanding me for not being more careful or aware of my surroundings. Anything could happen to you, and then where would I be? Stuck with a debt I can’t collect, that’s where. For the most part I think he’s joking. Not about the debt, that’s real enough, but the collecting part.

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