Page 149 of The Savior

Her sobs rang out when she hugged her mother, and there was no need to convince Angela anymore. This wasn’t the slumber party she’d dreamed up after all.

Chelsea kept pace with the man who’d led them there. “The senator. The daughter. The pregnant lady. What on earth do you people want?”

Her escort ignored her question, and they rounded the hood of the SUV and ran into the older man who’d had the HK. He held out his arms as if he were greeting old friends. “The sacrificial lambs.”

Chelsea shuddered then caught sight of the other men— “Liam!”

He limped forward, and she bolted toward him. Her guard didn’t do a thing to hold her back.

But Liam stopped and froze like he barely knew her.

Stiffly, he offered her an awkward greeting. Concern darkened his eyes. Blood painted his light-colored pants. She didn’t care why he didn’t react and flung her arms around him.

Liam didn’t embrace her in return.

“Liam?”

He pulled back and shifted, then his eyes dropped to her neck. “What’d they do to you?”

Chelsea touched her bandage. “Nothing. I mean—this was from earlier.”

He inspected her neck without a word then coldly took another step back.

“What’s wrong—”

“If this is who you have…” He tilted his head and cast a side glance her way. “You made a mistake.”

Her hands wrapped over lower abdomen. “What?”

“I’m not so sure,” the older man said.

Liam shrugged, not looking back her way. Unsure what was happening, Chelsea tried to keep a stiff upper lip.

“Believe what you want,” Liam said to Pham. “Your intel is wrong.” He gestured. “She’s not going to bring me to my knees. Try again.” Then he turned to her and offered a pacifying half-shrug. “No offense.”

Chelsea’s eyes darted between the men, and crushing humiliation reddened her cheeks. As her stomach knotted, she tried to make sense of his dismissive nonchalance and came up empty.

Liam would never speak to her like that. He wouldn’t do that toanyone—but then she fit together pieces that she couldn’t see or understand. They’d been called “sacrificial lambs” and the Nymans were in danger because Liam cared about them.

Finally, she understood what he was doing. Little sleep and a bad day were the perfect ingredients for her performance. “Youasshole.”

She could’ve sworn Liam’s eyebrow twitched when she cursed, and maybeshewouldn’t, but if the job called for her to shout like a drunken sailor, then Chelsea would trot out whatever it took. Bad words and all.

“I’m the asshole?” He hooked a thumb toward the old man. “I didn’t ask him to bring you here. I’m the one with my damn leg sliced open.”

Like any woman scorned who’d been abducted to hurt her man, she didn’t care. Or so she tried to act. “You think I care hesliced your leg open?”

“Enough,” the old man called.

Chelsea glared and turned to Liam. “How about you explain ‘try again’ like there’s someone else?”

“Maybe there is,” he said.

“Enough.”

She ignored the old man and stomped forward. “Maybe there is?” she mocked like a guest star on a Dr. Phil episode gone bad.

She stopped inches from his face. There, underneath the exhaustion and pain, she could see his emerald-green eyes sparkle for her,thenshe let him have it.

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