Page 6 of Liv Parrish

“Yeah, Nick. We need to have a chat about that guy. There are things you need to know.”

“I didn’t realize you two were so close, but I know everything I need to about him. Now, seeing as you chased all my friends away, I need you to get me out of here. I just want to go home, Luke, please?" He doesn’t take long to consider. Since the accident that took our mom from us, we usually avoid hospitals at all costs.

"Okay, but I'm staying with you until I'm sure you're going to be good on your own. No arguments."

"Deal."

About an hour later, after Luke finished my lunch because I just couldn’t bring myself to eat whatever that was, he disappears to arrange my discharge and I take the opportunity to change into the clothes Ren brought for me. When he returns, he’s followed by the same nurse from before, pushing a wheelchair. She must notice the look on my face.

“Now dear, before you object, I must let you know it is hospital policy for you to leave in this chair and seeing as you’re leaving earlier than the doctor would like, I would not object too loudly.” She’s all sunshine and light, but I can see there is no point arguing, so I nod my head and start moving towards the wheelchair. We don’t waste any time standing around and once I’m somewhat comfortably seated, the nurse starts pushing me out of the room towards the nearest elevator while making small talk with Luke.

We are still several feet away when I notice a couple standing there, waiting for the elevator doors to open. They are tightly clinched together, kissing rather passionately for such a public area, and when they pull apart, I recognize the man who is facing her but is turned in my direction. Heath. My heart gives an unexpected lurch in my chest, causing my breath to hitch and my eyes to sting. Shit, I can’t let him see me like this. I’ll admit, the bruises on my face freaked me out a bit and the absolute last thing I want to do is share an elevator with him and the gorgeous woman who is obviously his girlfriend. Without thinking I place my hands on the wheels of the chair, effectively slowing it down and drawing Luke’s attention. The nurse brings the chair to a stop and Luke kneels next to me so that we are eye level with each other, and I know there is no way to hide my distress.

“What’s wrong? Did you forget something?” Luke’s concern threatens the last of my self-control and I stare down at my hands that are now folded in my lap to avoid making eye contact and giving my emotions away.

“No, but is there another elevator or another way off this floor?” I feel Luke’s stare boring into my cheek for a few seconds before he looks towards the elevator in front of us where Heath and his girlfriend are talking quietly. I don’t even want to consider what he’s thinking, but after a moment he straightens and then flashes the nurse his most charming smile, before asking her if there is another way off this floor. She doesn’t even seem put out by the request, as if this happens all the time.

“Sure.” And just like that, without any argument, she turns us around and heads towards the visitor’s area where there is another bank of elevators off to one side. Once we come to a stop, he kneels by my side once more, lowering his voice so that only I can hear his question.

“Who's the guy? And do I have to kill him or just mess him up a bit?” A snort laugh escapes and I finally look my brother in the eye. I should have known he wouldn’t be fooled, but then again, he’s the one person who knows what happened in Austin.

“What guy?” I try and play it off as nothing and get the obligatory eyeroll for my efforts.

“The guy at the elevator you were trying to avoid, or are we just going to pretend that didn’t happen? Just so we’re clear, my offer still stands.”

“I have no idea what you're talking about, so no need to get physical. If anything changes, I’ll let you know.” Before he can think of anything else to say, the elevator doors open, and we step inside.

Luke drives us back to my apartment without making further conversation. I can tell he has something on his mind which is bubbling like a forgotten pot on the stove, but for now we are both silent. We are not your typical twin siblings. You know the ones who can communicate without talking or sense what the other is feeling or when they’re in trouble. That’s not us. Even though we were close growing up, we were very different people. Luke was the extrovert who could make friends with anyone while I was the exact opposite, happy to spend time in my room reading or cooking with our mom. After her accident, it was like a switch flipped for Luke. He was so angry at what happened. We both were, but for him it seemed like a personal failure that he could not protect her from a careless driver who took her life and then somehow walked free without any repercussions. He lashed out, got into trouble and when a distant relative stepped in and suggested he consider a career in the military rather than going down his path of self-destruction, Luke left. Something about the structure and discipline, I guess. I never resented him for his decision though, but maybe he has regrets. I don’t know. After a takeout dinner we settle on my sofa, and I brace for what’s to come.

“I hate this, Livvy. I hate that this happened, and I wasn’t here to do anything about it. I hate that Nick had to be the one to save you from that horrible situation. If he didn’t show up when he did … if something happened to you …” He looks away, but not fast enough to hide his anguish. I honestly don’t know what to say to make him feel better. As a Marine he faces horrible situations all the time, but I know he’s trained to deal with them, and I have to trust and take comfort in that. I can’t really offer the same in return. I also don’t understand why everyone has such a negative view of Nick. Okay, that’s a lie. I do understand. Being part of the Irish Mob means you do things that are illegal, violent and cruel, but that is not how I know Nick. I wouldn’t go so far as to call us friends, but I trust him. He lives by his own rules, and loyalty and promises mean something to him. In his own way, he looks out for me. Today is yet more proof of that, but I guess people who don’t know any better will always see the physical appearance and not bother to look any deeper and that makes me sad for him.

Luke huffs out a breath before continuing. “I know I was a shit brother when we were younger, and I’m not around much now, but you have to know you can call me anytime and if it’s possible I’ll come.” He pauses again, and I know we’ve come to the actual topic weighing on him. “I let you down, when Mom died and when things fell apart with David. He–”

“Luke, stop. That’s all in the past, okay? I’m here now and I’m fine. No more hiding, and all of this will heal,” I say, waiving a hand down my body. “We’re good. And what happened in Austin …” Yeah, we’re not talking about that, because I can’t bring myself to say David’s name out loud. It just hurts too much. I sigh, feeling exhausted and a little raw. “I like it here. I’ve made friends and I love my job, so I think I’m going to stick around for a while. So, anytime you want to come and visit, I’ll be here.”

“Yeah?” He doesn’t look convinced, but then again, our history always weighed heavier on his shoulders. I don’t know why; I never held his actions against him. And my nomadic tendencies were just that. Mine. I don’t know why I felt the need to move around so much. It’s not like David was ever going to come looking for me, but after what happened, Austin stopped feeling like home and I knew subconsciously that was what I was looking for.

“I promise.” By mutual unspoken agreement we end the conversation there and after making sure I took my pain medication he packs me off to bed so that I can rest. I fall asleep almost immediately and the next morning when I wake up, he’s gone.

For the next week I’m forced to take it easy at home, so the kids at the center won’t get freaked out by my battered appearance, which I understand, but I hate being idle. So instead, I help Ren and Evan at the clinic where most of the patients look just as beaten up, if not worse. It breaks my heart seeing them like this, knowing they most likely feel stuck in terrible situations they have no idea how to navigate. I spend those days talking to battered women, patching up minor wounds or just keeping young children entertained while their parents are being examined. In the evenings, I spend my time in my apartment searching the net for helpful information and resources that might provide some hope for a better future.

Sleep does not come easily. I’ve always been a bit of an insomniac, but since this last incident it’s become significantly worse. And when I do manage to fall asleep, nightmares are a frequent reminder of what I went through, if somewhat warped and distorted. Lying in bed, I try to calm my mind while taking deep breaths and relaxing my muscles, starting with my feet and working my way up …

I’m back in the warehouse. It’s dark, dank and strangely quiet except for a single light bulb hanging directly overhead and the sound of a small child calling for help from somewhere in the distance. I’m tied to the same chair as before, with my wrists and ankles bleeding from the ropes chafing my skin. Fighting against them, I struggle to free myself, even though I know I’m just wasting precious energy. My heart is racing with panic and the need to escape so that I can get to that small voice before fleeing this terrible place. Out of nowhere, a large figure starts shouting in Russian, drowning out the child who is now crying inconsolably. I can’t make out any features until he steps into the light right in front of me and I rear back as far as the chair will allow, because this man is not the Russian from the warehouse. This man is Luke, and he’s holding a towel and a bucket of water …

I jerk awake, a silent scream caught in my throat. And so it goes, night after torturous night. One week passes, and then another. All my injuries have healed so I go back to work and resume my normal routine, but it does nothing to help. Usually, I would chat with Ren for a while, but tonight I know she’s on a date so it’s just me and my thoughts to keep me company. I sit on my sofa, my laptop resting on my thighs, and try to find something to watch or read that might lure the sandman closer and convince him to show some mercy, but so far, no luck. For what feels like the hundredth time, my thoughts wander to Heath, and I’m bombarded by memories of him and his girlfriend at the hospital. They looked happy together so I try to draw comfort from that thought and knowing that he recovered from his ordeal and is doing well with a beautiful woman by his side. My eyes roam around my apartment, until they land on the business card Aaron gave me the day they came for Heath. Back then I tacked it to my fridge and just left it there, but now I find myself removing it before sitting at my laptop again.

Curiosity spurs me to type Fortress Security, the company name into my browser to see what comes up and it’s what you would expect: a professional and modern website with an edgy, masculine design. On the About Us page are four thumbnail size photographs for Aaron Yeager, Michael Jennings, Riley Callahan and Heath Hayes with short biographies detailing their military careers, additional qualifications and experience. It’s remarkably impressive without revealing a single personal detail. And the women who work there must count their lucky stars every night that they are able to look upon such fine men every day, because all four of them are ridiculously handsome. I wonder if they even employ any women or fear they will contaminate the work environment with their femininity. I decide to test my theory by calling the afterhours number listed. If there are female employees, they are probably support staff such as secretaries and would be responsible for recording the voicemail message on the company answering service. I know, it’s a terrible thought, narrow-minded and judgmental, but it doesn’t stop me from dialing the number and waiting for the voicemail to confirm my suspicions. It starts ringing and before my brain can register that this is strange considering that it’s after one o’clock in the morning, someone answers. Shit, someone answered!

“Fortress Security, Riley Callahan.” It’s not much of a greeting but considering the hour he probably wasn’t expecting any calls either. “Hello? Can I help you?” He sounds a little impatient now. I should just end the call, but I can’t hang up on him so instead I start to blubber.

“Hey, Riley, I’m so sorry. This is Liv Parrish. We met a while back when Heath got hurt and you came to fetch him at my apartment.” There’s not even a moment’s hesitation before he responds.

“Liv, hey! I remember. What’s up? Are you okay?” All the impatience is gone from his tone now and concern aside, he sounds almost happy to hear from me, as if he was expecting my call, but that can’t be right. We don’t know each other, apart from our one brief meeting during which he barely acknowledged me.

“I’m fine, thank you. I’m so sorry to bother you. I was just …” How do I even explain this?

“It’s no bother. I was just busy wrapping up here, so your timing is perfect. What are you up to?” Okay, so it sounds like he’s in the mood to chat.

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