Page 23 of Liam James
Liam
Ipulled the black SUV off the road and into the thickest patch of pines I could find, branches scraping against the paint as I wedged it behind a wall of brush. I’d have it repainted for Troy. The engine ticked as it cooled, and on the seat next to me Jenny’s wide eyes met mine.
“Get in the back with Poppy,” I said quietly, keeping my voice calm even though my pulse thundered in my ears. “Stay on the floorboard. No matter what you hear, no matter what happens—don’t move until I come back for you.”
Jenny swallowed hard. “Liam—”
“Promise me.”
Her jaw trembled, but she nodded, pulling Poppy close. Poppy looked confused but didn’t cry, didn’t even ask questions. She just burrowed into Jenny’s arms, clutching the stuffed rabbit she’d refused to let go of since we left the carnival.
I stepped back, taking one last look at them before shutting the door. Then I ran.
Five miles of asphalt stretched ahead, and I pounded over it like the devil himself was chasing me, lungs burning, legsscreaming. I didn’t stop. Didn’t even slow down until I reached the stretch of road where Jarod would have to come.
The sun was dropping behind the trees, shadows crawling across the blacktop. I stood dead center, chest heaving, sweat rolling down my spine. My heart slammed against my ribs, not from the run but from what was coming.
I was done hiding. Done running.
Jarod wanted us? Fine.
He could have me.
The sound came first—low, distant, tires on gravel. Then the headlights sliced through the trees, crawling closer.
I didn’t move.
The SUV rolled into view, slowing when the driver saw me standing there like I’d been waiting all along.
And I had.
Jarod stepped out, his grin spreading wide, the kind of grin that made my fingers itch for the trigger.
“Well,” he drawled, voice carrying across the empty road. “Ain’t this somethin’? You lookin’ to die tonight, boy?”
I didn’t answer.
I just smiled back—and waited for him to make the first move.
Jarod took his time,like this was some kind of game. Like the two lives I was protecting didn’t matter.
He strolled toward me, boots scuffing the pavement, hands loose at his sides. He was confident. Too confident.
“You’ve been a real pain in my ass,” he said. “Hand over my daughter, and maybe I let you walk away.”
I didn’t move. Didn’t blink. I wanted him close. Close enough that he thought he had the upper hand.
“Not happening,” I said.
His grin widened. “Then I guess you die.”
He went for his gun.
I was faster.
The crack of my first shot shattered the silence, his weapon flying from his hand as he screamed. He ducked behind his vehicle's door, bullets tearing through metal and glass as we traded fire. My ears rang. My blood pounded.
I moved fast, circling low, keeping him pinned. A shot whined past my head, close enough that I felt the heat of it.
