Liam.

A surge of solace washes over me, momentarily eclipsing the lingering pain of Zerina's betrayal.

Liam approaches me cautiously, his eyes scanning the basement as if he's expecting someone to leap out and pounce on us. Then he kneels by my side and cups my face with tenderness. His touch sends a jolt of warmth through me as my cheeks heat and I recall our kiss.

"Alexandra," he whispers. And then, adds three simple, soothing syllables. "I'm here."

My eyes well up with tears. Liam's here. But how? He's somehow always here, whenever I need him. I grab his hand, feeling a multitude of emotions at the same time: gratitude, relief and a deep-seated longing.

"We gotta leave. Kieran's men can't find us nowhere near here, now that your ma escaped," he says with a sense of urgency.

Then he lifts me up in his arms, as if my body were light as a feather to him, and carries me out of the basement, into the dimly lit corridor and out of the club altogether.

The early evening air is crisp and refreshing, a stark contrast to the suffocating darkness of the basement.

I inhale deeply, savoring the taste of freedom even if each breath hurts as if it were the last.

"Let's go home," Liam sighs, his nose buried in my hair.

I relax in his arms, his swift walk lulling me into nothingness: I know he's carrying me to safety.

The questions can wait.

***

As I regain consciousness, the first thing I notice is the familiar warmth of my bed. The comforting-as-ever, soft glow of the bedside lamp casts a suave, tender light on the room.

I blink, taking in my surroundings, my head split with an unbearable ache. My heart skips when I see Liam standing right beside me like a silent statue of a sculpted Greek god. We haven't been this close in weeks. Not since... Since he bathed and dried me.

"Yer okay, sweetheart. Yer home." He swallows but manages a weak smile. "We really need to stop making this me-rescuing-you thing a habit, wouldn't cha agree?"

I try to say something, but only weak meowls abandon my throat. "Wha... Wha happened?"

Before he can even answer, a myriad of thoughts race through my mind, piecing the pieces of the memory puzzle into a strain of images.

Siobhan giving me the key. The flickering light of the basement. That horrid, damp smell. My mother's cold stare. It all comes back at once and it's all too sudden, too much.

"Oh, no," I gurgle. "I should not have... Zerina..."

"Shh. Alex. Let it go, lass. Ye need to rest." He kneels by my side, burying his head in my stomach and my fingers intertwine with his unruly hair.

"But Kieran..." Dread chills the blood in my veins.

"Let me worry about him." Liam lifts his head and those intense, emerald eyes pierce through my very soul, calming me down in an instant. It's strange and I don't know how I know it, but I know Liam will take care of everything.

I whimper, as he plants adoring, open-mouth kisses on my bruised fingers, my flimsy arm and my cold cheek, but I pull him into an embrace nonetheless.

When his lips wander towards my neck I more than welcome that thrilling, pleasuring sensation that annihilates and combats the pain of my body and my soul.

"Liam..." I cry out as he lays beside me on the bed, and peppers kisses between my pert breasts next, his five-o-clock shadow stubble pleasantly scratching my cold skin. "I want..."

"I know, sweetheart," Liam grunts.

"I want to erase everything that happened. Can you do that for me?"

He nods wordlessly, his warm palm wandering down my stomach and settling itself between my thighs.

Loud gasps that abandon my lips almost frighten me as Liam's expert fingers circle inside me, tenderly pushing in and out.

He settles himself between my legs, his tongue coating my skin with wet, delicate kisses. As it moves to torture my sensitive, fleshy nub, all thoughts and worries I ever had fly out of the window.

My consciousness melts and I clutch Liam's shoulders harder, grinding shamelessly against his hand as he increases his pace, following my rhythm.

My moans and pants mingle with the slick sounds of his nimble fingers entering me in a continuous rhythm. In, and out, faster, and deeper, until I split apart with a sharp cry of his name, drowning in the salty sea of his scent.

Liam doesn't pull his fingers out. He presses his thumb against my clit again, letting me ride out the waves of my orgasm until my bodily trembles fully subside, and I drift away to mindless sleep.

When I wake up, the space beside me is empty.

What a surprise. Not. I roll my eyes at the sight.

At least my pillow smells like him. I roll over and bury my face into the material and inhale.

Liam's comforting, familiar scent is the only soothing beacon to me right now, in the sea of troubles.

I close my eyes and blow out a breath. What my mother did should come as more of a shock to me in the broad daylight, but it doesn't.

I'm quickly learning that nothing about this world is black and white. Zerina fought for her freedom yesterday and won.

The desire to find and pin down my elusive, duplicitous mother is overwhelming, but so is the hunger.

A drumbeat echoes in the depths of my belly, and after wrapping myself closer in a satin nightgown, I putter to the kitchen, blushing as I feel my thighs still pulsating from last night's desire.

Rummaging through the cupboards doesn't turn up much as usual, and Nana O'Grady is nowhere to be found.

Heck, I don't even know what time it is.

Nico enters the room, and wordlessly dumps a paper bag on the floor. I approach it with caution.

He did some grocery shopping, alright, but the man has no taste for anything with sugar in it.

Weetabix it is, then.

I grab a bowl and sit down at the table across from him, who is already scowling at me. He's in fine form this morning, but I can't help but feel so guilty. Nico must already know about everything that happened, and Liam's probably asking him to cover for me.

"Where's Liam?" I whisper.

"He had business to tend to."

He continues to watch me eat, his eyes narrowed and the wheels in his eerily quiet head turning. By the time my spoon clatters into the empty bowl, I'm incredibly tense and just about ready to throw it at him.

"He's gone already? He hardly got any sleep," I mumble conversationally round a mouthful of cereal.

"Welcome to his life," Nico answers dryly.

"When will he be back?"

A mere shrug of shoulders is my response.

Why, oh why does he keep doing this to me? Here one moment, gone the next?

Is this irritating man's affection like a tap? Can he simply turn it on and off at will, just like that?

He comes, he goes.

He comforts me, he abandons me.

I don't even know what to make of his behavior anymore.

***

I dream of Liam Cavanaugh two nights in a row, and then spend another two wide awake, prowling around my bedroom like a caged lioness.

I can't remember what exactly happens in the dreams, but I wake up each morning with the ghostly touch of his palms between my legs, and a painful ball of need coiling in my belly.

In the uncertainty of the future events, he was my only certainty.

Now that too, is gone.

Cold showers help somewhat, at least for a little while, and Liam's inexplicable absence is both a blessing and a curse.

A blessing because I have the time to heal, and I can avoid facing him flushed like a schoolgirl, haunted by the lewd memories of us running through my mind on repeat.

A curse because without new interactions to distract me, all I can think about is our night.

That night.

His lips tenderly grazing my neck. His fingers filling me as I shamelessly rode his hand to orgasm. The desire in Liam's emerald eyes as he watched me come apart.

A shiver that has nothing to do with the Dublin December weather rolls over my body.

Saturday has dawned gray and snowy, and while I usually only liked the snowflakes back home in Tirana when I was tucked snug and warm in my bed, I relish the chill today. It clears my thoughts – as much as they can be cleared anyway.

The sound of Liam's car parking in front of the mansion sets my frayed nerves on edge, and my legs rush me to the window out of their own accord, before I can even think about what the hell I'm doing.

For a moment, I forget everything else. He's back. He won't be gone for three weeks this time.

As Liam steps out of the vehicle, tall and imposing, I drink in his broad shoulders draped in a thick winter peacoat that looks as if it were tailor-made to his ruggedly handsome physique. His raven hair, slightly tousled by the winter wind, frames his chiseled face piercing green eyes that peered at me from between my thighs emanating both warmth and intensity.

My heart squeezes and then explodes inside of my chest. I hate that I can't stop staring at him.

"Liam. Oh, Liam, how I missed you," I let out a silent sigh.

He suddenly glances over his shoulder as if there's been a sound, but there's no way he could've heard that.

His eyes meet mine, and surprise stiffens his light body.

For a long, immeasurable moment we look at each other, the window between us a silent witness to our reunion.

Then polite blandness smooths his face as he touches two fingers to his hat brim in a salute.

The man who steps out of the car after him does the same. But his salute is mocking, dreary.

My father.

***

"Ye've got yourself a real fine one there, lad. Sandra, was it?" Kieran says, and the fact he remembers my name unnerves me. My father settles himself in that very same plush emerald green settee where Zerina used to sit a month ago with a contented sigh and lights a thick cigar with gusto.

Liam mutters in agreement, but something in his voice is off as he nods at his Captain. "Ye'd best go to the kitchens now, Sandra, and help Nico and Nana O'Grady out. They mus' be expecting ye," he says, without even sparing me a glance.

"Nonsense. The lass can stay. After all, she's practically family now." Kieran's teeth spread into a wolfish grin. "I am certain your girl is well acquainted with what has recently transpired in the Angels club. Even if she hasn't shown up for work in weeks after the shipping container mishap. Light pneumonia, am I right?"

I nod wordlessly, assuming that was the excuse Liam gave him.

The way he relaxes almost imperceptibly shows me that I've answered correctly.

"But Siobhan must have filled you in, and rightfully so. You're coworkers after all." Kieran's cold gaze is fixed directly on me. What he says is a statement, not a question.

My eyes roam over the two men in confusion, as I'm uncertain what to reply this time round. I glance up at Liam as if looking for help.

"Fucking Christ," he grunts, his eyes finding mine.

I don't like what I see there. Regret. He's regretting me being here, being a part of this conversation.

"Aye, Captain, she knows," he barks at Kieran.

Kieran's eyes fall back to me. "Thought so. All the employees are familiar with our little... Shall we say... Security breach by now. And Zerina Martinaj's impromptu excursion back to the Albanian clan, a high position one at that. The proper question right now would be, what the feck are we going to do about it?"

My mother returned to the Albanians? Out of her own free will? And was even accepted into their ranks?

I glance back up at Liam, and the bastard's avoiding eye contact again. Something about this feels weird, but it's obvious he wants me out of the way for whatever reason.

But I refuse to back down. A surge of wrath courses through my veins as I remember the conversation with my mother.

The woman I loved and trusted lied to me my whole life, and then the moment I came to her aid she manipulated and hurt me the first chance she got.

Tears blur my sight until two men sitting before me merge into one and I clench my fists.

Liam is just like him. Just as secretive and controlling, just as avoidant as my father.

And I'm sick and tired of following his instructions, of Liam shielding me, excluding me from everything.

Sick and tired from enduring his absences, his hot and cold behavior.

When my vision clears, I see that Kieran's hawkish, attentive stare is fully on me.

"Suggestions, Sandra?" His silky voice taps my eardrums like a light, soothing caress.

"With all due respect, Captain, I don't think she..." Liam tries to speak up but Kieran raises his hand and he instantly falls silent.

I am strangely glad he does because I have oh so many suggestions.

So many ways to hurt my treacherous mother back.

"If your guest has returned to the folds of the Albanian clan," I hear myself say in a cold, cruel voice, "and you can no longer reach her directly, perhaps you may indirectly strike her."

"My, my, I can see why Liam likes you." My father leans forward with interest, mirroring the identical cruelty in his tone. "A mastermind like you.Seems like you'd suit him. Do go on."

"Thank you." I give him a forced smile and then glance back at Liam.

He's now cradling his head between his hands. And something inside of me breaks a little at the sight of it.

But the wheels are set in motion and I can't stop this anymore.

Can't stop myself from fully riding out the feeling of wrath.

"Strike a deal with the Albanians that will hurt them financially, is what I would do. If you cut them off from their money, the clan is as good as helpless. When they see how economically ruined they are, they might give her up on their own accord."

"How do you imagine this might work?" Kieran's voice is now but a snake hiss, his body teetering on the edge of the settee, his mind fully enthralled by my words.

"To ensure their full trust, you might need to include someone who speaks their language in the role of negotiator or translator. That will set them at ease."

"And just where do you suggest we find someone like... Oh." Kieran's eyes flash in sudden comprehension.

Liam becomes as tense as a coiled spring in his seat.

"Well, well, well. Aren't you full of surprises, my dear? Where did you say you were from, originally?"

"Italy." A blatant lie rolls off my tongue so quickly, so easily, so effortlessly that I can't help but wonder if somewhere deep down I'm really my father's daughter. "I worked there as a nurse for several years before coming here to Ireland, and I had a lot of Albanian colleagues. I can speak the language fluently."

"Nurse? You don't say? She's a rightful treasure trove of a wide range of skills... Where have you been hiding her, Liam? Seems I was right when I said I'd be seeing you around, Sandra." Kieran stands up and mock-curtseys me. "I am afraid the time of my visit has come to an end now, but I am very much looking forward to the future deeper elaboration of this...idea of yours."

Butterflies of thrill flutter in my stomach at my father's appraisal, but at the same time I can't shake off the feeling that I've just committed a grave mistake.

Frigging hell, I've just agreed to be Kieran's translator, to help him communicate with his Albanian associates. I let myself be seduced by the prospect of revenge.

My heart thumps in my chest like a frantic drum solo and a wave of guilt washes over me, the weight of my decision pressing down on my shoulders.

I don't look in Liam's general direction on purpose, but I don't have to.

The expression on his face and the dread sets in as I realize what he's thinking.

I've just handed my life away.