Page 38 of Liam
Nylah wet her lips, drawing his focus to her mouth. Not kissing her again this week…fuck, it had been hard.
“You can follow me home,” she finally said. “I just need to—”
“Go,” Violet interrupted, crossing the room and pushing her toward the back, much like she had with Eleanor. “I’ve got this.”
Nylah shook her head. “No. We still have—”
“I’ve got it handled. This gorgeous man wants to make sure you get home safely, and my heart can’t take it if you don’t let him do that right now.”
Nylah laughed before disappearing to the back to grab her bag. When she returned, she gave the other woman a hug before moving over to Liam. He leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to her cheek. Fuck, he lived for those kisses, platonic as they were. For every touch and graze.
As they headed out to the lot, Liam kept a hand on the small of her back, like the very idea of losing contact was inconceivable.
“I’ll see you at your condo,” he said before he shut her car door.
The entire drive to her place, he wanted to turn them both the hell around. Yes, she had new locks, but they would only do so much if someone was determined to get in.
The lack of trouble over the last week had done nothing to settle his nerves. Sometimes the quiet almost felt worse than noise, because it was the sound of his enemies planning something. And whatever that something was, he and his team were blind to it.
They were still fighting like hell to get access to the computers from the van—or tech fromanyof the deceased—but Steve didn’t seem to have the pull on this case that he usually did.
Liam didn’t understand it. Very few people outranked the FBI, basically just the US Attorney General and the President, neither of whom would involve themselves in this. So…did Steve notwantthem to have access to the computers? Or could someone else in the FBI be blockinghisaccess?
That was something they had to get to the bottom of. In the meantime, nothing was getting done. It felt like no one cared about solving this case other than his team and the men from Marble Protection, which was insane, given the scope of their attack. Some asshole in the FBI even had the balls to suggest the danger was over. That all men involved were dead and the break-in at Nylah’s apartment was unrelated.
He ran a frustrated hand through his hair.
When Nylah parked outside her condo, he took the spot beside hers. He inspected the lot as he climbed from his car, almost expecting a gunman to jump out. He moved to the passenger side and grabbed the takeout he’d picked up on the way to The Grind.
Nylah held the bag she’d taken to his house, but he eased it from her fingers and swung it over his shoulder.
Her eyes lit up when she noticed the takeout sack. “What’s that?”
“Burgers and fries.”
She slipped her hand into his as a sexy-as-fuck groan escaped her mouth. “Tonight, Liam Shore, you are my hero.”
“Just tonight?”
She lifted a shoulder. “Depends what you bring me tomorrow.”
He’d bring this woman the fucking stars if she asked.
She unlocked the door and stepped inside, then toed off her shoes. “I’ll just get changed.”
When she disappeared into the bedroom, he placed the food on the coffee table and searched the kitchen for plates. A muscle ticked in his jaw at the memory of what this kitchen had looked like a week ago—the open drawers and cabinets, the broken plates.
He shut the door a bit too firmly, then took the plates to the coffee table. But instead of sitting down, he circled the living room and kitchen, checking the locks on the windows and doors.
He was just returning to the couch when the soft shuffle of Nylah’s feet sounded. “Dinner on the couch. I like your style.”
She’d changed into leggings that hugged her thighs and an off-the-shoulder top, which made him want to cross the damn room and push the other shoulder down.
He stepped toward her. “How can I convince you to come back to my place with me?”
An emotion he couldn’t read flashed over her face. He knew he’d done a lot of pushing over the last week, but fuck, he couldn’t stop himself.
“You can’t,” she said quietly.
