Page 8 of Liam James
Liam
Ididn’t sleep much that night.
I stayed in the chair by the front window, watching the dark street outside Jenny’s house. Every shadow looked like trouble, every engine backfiring made my hand twitch toward my weapon.
Max and Fraiser had taken turns patrolling the block. Good men. The kind you wanted watching your back when the world went sideways. I heard from Max that they had been watching out for Jenny the entire time they were here. I don’t know why they didn’t just come out and tell me.
But tonight, it wasn’t my own skin I was worried about.
It was Jenny’s. And Poppy’s.
The clock hit three a.m. when I heard the soft creak of the hallway floor. Jenny.
She wore one of those oversized sweatshirts that slipped off her shoulder, her hair messy from sleep. She paused when she saw me awake, like she wasn’t sure if she should apologize for intruding.
“Couldn’t sleep?” I asked quietly.
She shook her head and stepped into the living room. Moonlight pooled through the blinds, striping across her face.
“Every sound makes me jump,” she admitted. “I keep thinking he’s already here. That he’s going to kick in the door any second.”
“He won’t get near you,” I told her. My voice came out rougher than I intended.
She gave a shaky laugh. “You sound so sure.”
“I am sure,” I said.
Because if Jarod Kennedy came within ten feet of this house, I’d end him.
Jenny sat on the edge of the couch, close enough I could see the freckles across her nose. Close enough I could feel the heat radiating off her.
“You do this for a living?” she asked softly. “Protect people like us?”
“Not usually women who argue as much as you do,” I said dryly.
That made her smile—just barely—but it was there. “You think I argue too much?”
“No,” I admitted. “I think you’re scared. And covering it the only way you know how.”
She didn’t deny it. Just stared at her hands for a long moment. “Poppy’s all I have left. I can’t let him take her from me.”
I leaned forward, resting my arms on my knees. “He won’t.”
She looked up then, and something flickered between us. Something I shouldn’t want right now, but hell, if I could stop it.
Before either of us could speak, my phone buzzed on the table. A text from Fraiser:
Found something. You’ll want to see this.
Jenny
By morning, I was running on caffeine and nerves.
Fraiser showed up with a laptop and a grim expression. He set it on my kitchen table and turned the screen toward me and Liam.
“Pulled some favors,” Fraiser said. “Got access to a police database.”
On the screen was a file labeledJerod Kennedy.
