Burn (Brothers of Ink and Steel #2) (7 page)

I’m sure it’s a ploy and a ruse to get me in his bed, but dear Angel, I hope not, because I feel compelled.

Maybe it’s because it’s been so long since I’ve had companionship; maybe I just
want
to trust him; maybe it’s his blue-gray-green eyes that are so intense they make me think that they’re what the stormy ocean must look like; maybe it’s his messy short black hair and his amazing smile that makes him seem genuine and keeps him approachable. But, now, here with Liam, I feel almost safe for the first time in a very long time—maybe ever.

His black jeans and work boots make him look tough—and he obviously is, the way he had no fear defending me against Dylan—but the way he’s acting with me doesn’t make him seem so fierce. In fact, it makes him seem willing to be … vulnerable.

He’s offering trust for trust …

When he tells me we can share his pillow, I come up and lay beside him. Facing the wall, I snuggle my back close to his front so we fit together in the small twin bed. The old mattress springs creak with my every move. I feel shy and brave and scared and safe all at the same time.

He pulls his blanket over us. It’s a ragged, tattered thing, barely big enough to cover him. He’s confessed that his foster parents keep the heat down in the house and if he touches it he’d get beaten. When I feel his arm come around my shoulders I feel like I know him well enough from this short time to realize that he’d go cold to make sure I was warm, even though I don’t know why.

So I decide he doesn’t have to; I take the risk and press my body against his. The sensation makes my face grow hot. He becomes utterly still.

“Thanks for protecting me tonight against, Dylan.”

“Yeah, no problem.”

“Are you sure your foster parents aren’t going to come home early and freak out?”

“Positive.”

I reach my hands up and hold his arm over me, hoping he won’t take it back. Tears well in my eyes. The feel of his arm … everything he’s done … I wonder how I’m ever going to let go.

But right now, I don’t have to.

“Thank you for letting me stay.”

When I wake up the next morning, Liam’s arm is still around me. We hadn’t changed positions all through the night. Normally, when I wake up in a strange place—which is all of the time—I get this uneasy, frightened feeling. My heart pumps with adrenaline to remind me I’m not safe and I may have to run at any second. But I don’t feel that way at all right now. I feel perfectly content … maybe even happy. Okay, definitely happy. The smile that I feel spread over my face is proof of that.

A funny breath escapes my chest, sort of like a laugh of disbelief and a sigh of relief all mixed up.

“Hey, you awake?”

Is it possible that Liam’s voice is more amazing when he’s sleepy? It’s deep and rough and gives me tingles deep in my stomach.

“Did you get a good night’s sleep?” he asks me.

“Yeah, actually, I did.” Surprisingly. “What time is it?”

He laughs and sits up. “One in the afternoon.”

“No way.” I run my fingers through my hair.

“Yup, but I’m happy you got a good sleep—maybe we’ll get rid of those dark circles under your eyes. Now, let’s get some food like I promised.”

The thought of dark circles makes me reach up and gingerly trace my fingertips under my eyes. But food … “Yeah, I could totally go for food.”

“Snickers and a cheeseburger coming up.” He goes to his closet and pulls down a black camo backpack, sets it on the bed and starts digging through it.

He pulls out a couple of outfits, a change of shoes and some other stuff, until he gets to a small metal box with a padlock on it.

Once he sets it out, he goes through a smaller, zippered pouch and pulls out a steel key ring with four keys on it. He unlocks the box, and inside are various trinkets, pieces of jewelry, a small wad of cash secured with an old rubber band and some folded papers and envelopes.

“This is my life bag. When my mom tosses me or I run, or a foster family gets ugly, or I’m sleeping in a doorway someplace, it’s always packed and ready to grab in a second,” he explains.

“Do you run away a lot?” I ask quietly.

“You have no idea.” He shakes his head as he stuffs the money in his pocket. “For a while I stayed with my grandmother, but she died when I was nine.”

“I’m sorry.”

He studies me a moment and keeps talking. “I was forced to stay with my mom, but that’s like sitting on a rowboat on top of an active volcano—BOOM!” Liam brings his closed fists together, opens them and then throws them up in the air so I can visualize the explosion.

“How did you get caught up in foster care?”

“Got nabbed in an alley fight.” He shrugs. “Made fifty bucks that night—it helps you win when you bet on yourself. But now my name and face are in their system. No big deal, I just have to be smarter than the cops, which isn’t too difficult.”

He relocks the box and puts the pack back in its safe place. Liam turns and pats his pocket of money. “This’ll be plenty for cheeseburgers, candy bars and milkshakes. Oh, I have an idea for some fun too. You’ll need these.”

Liam passes me a black, hooded, zip-up sweatshirt. It smells of musk and earth and
him
.

“I require your sweatshirt?” I quip to hide how much I like being enveloped in it.

“And this.” He pulls a purple and yellow Minnesota Vikings baseball cap over my head and helps me tuck my hair inside it. After lifting the hood, he steps back and studies his handiwork. “No one will recognize you now.”

“Okay then, what do you have in mind?”

He answers with a smile.

First thing we do is hop a bus. I follow him to the very back seats, where he puts me on the inside, close to the window, and sits on my other side.

“Where are we going?” I ask.

“You’ll see.”

I make a face at his cryptic answer, but I can’t quell the growing excitement.

When the bus stops at the Mall of America he says, “This is our stop.”

“Shopping? I didn’t take you for one who does a lot of that,” I say.

“Ha. Ha.”

We go through the heavy glass doors and walk into the wonder that is the biggest shopping center in the United States, maybe the world, for all I know. Liam has a plan, because he makes a beeline to the amusement park.

“Um …” My gaze travels up the tallest, most frightening and puke inducing rollercoaster ever. “Not doing it.”

“Sure you are.” He laughs as he pays for two tickets.

“It’ll make me sick for sure.” Vomiting is not attractive.

“That’s why we’ll do lunch
afterwards
.”

That’s faulty reasoning,
I think as he begins to walk up the ramp to the line.

I grab his arm in desperation. “I’m serious … I’m scared.”

“Have you ever ridden one?”

“No,” I admit.

“Trust me, by the middle of the ride you’ll be screaming in excitement.”  He looks at me with this—I don’t know—this
look,
like everything is going to be okay.

I walk with him into the line. “I appreciate your confidence … sort of.” The damn machine stands all the way to the ceiling.

“Are you afraid of the height or the motion?”

“Yes.” I nod solidly.

He laughs. “Good … maybe you’ll need to hold my hand.”

Hold his hand? He
wants
me to hold his hand?? I turn my face to the side as I feel the blood rise and paint my cheeks with a rosy flush.

We climb into the rollercoaster, and the bar comes down over our shoulders and between our legs.

“You should see your face!” he cackles. “You look terrified!”

“If I don’t die, I’m going to kill you!”

As the ride begins, I feel Liam’s fingers prompting my hand to open. I open my fist and his fingers twine through mine.

The rollercoaster throws us and spins us; it lifts us and drops us. The force and gravity tries to pull our hands apart, but we hold on for all we’re worth. It is the most frightening, exhilarating feeling ever!

We finally stop. I’m still alive, shockingly.

The security harness lifts. I take a tentative step forward, but am totally unsteady.

“Sick?” Liam asks.

“Not sure what I am,” I say, struggling with my balance. “Walking might take a minute.”

He laughs before he pulls me up onto his back and carries me piggyback through the mall.

When the vertigo does recede, I don’t tell him. I like the feel of my legs wrapped around his waist and my arms draped over his shoulders, which are broad and strong. I breathe in his shampoo and soap.

“Did you like it?” he whispers to the side where my head rests.

“Yes.”
I really like being so close to you.

“Want to do it again?”

“Absolutely not,” I answer, and am met with his happy laughter.

He marches us to the elevator. There’s a crowd waiting to get on. We wait with them.

“You can put me down now,” I whisper, a little embarrassed over all the stares we’re attracting.

“Nope,” he says. “I like you just like this.”

“Liam …” I hiss.

The elevator doors open, and in we go.

“She got sick on the rollercoaster, but don’t worry, folks, she’ll be alright,” he tells the people boarding with us.

“Oh my God! Are you crazy?” I whisper.

“Probably.”

We’re quiet until we stop at the food court.

“You have to be tired. You really can put me down.”

“I know,” he says. “I just keep thinking of yesterday, when I was dealing with Dylan and you ran off and I wondered what would happen if I couldn’t find you.”

“You wondered that?” I feel those tingles in my belly again.

“Yup.”

All of a sudden, he steals the rationality from my mind. It’s all I can do to halt the giggle before it comes out.

We make it to Burger King and he orders two Whoppers with cheese and chocolate shakes. He also gets onion rings and French fries. He sits me on the hard plastic table, goes back to grab the tray of food and sits across from me.

“Dig in,” he says without formality.

We do.

Starving, I lift the lid to my shake and dip a fry into the thick, creamy chocolate.

“”Really?” he asks, seemingly entertained and perhaps disgusted.

“It’s good,” I say, tempting him with the milkshake fry.

“No thanks, I’ll stick to normal things like ketchup.”

“You made me ride a rollercoaster, and you won’t taste an ice cream fry?” I’m incredulous.

He shakes his head no, but I’m not about to let him off that easy. I’m overwhelmed by the urge to mess with him.

“You leave me no choice,” I warn.

“Oh yeah?” He grins.

I swipe the fry across his face so a line of chocolate goes from one cheek across his lips to the other cheek. It’s like I’ve given him a giant chocolate smile.

He smirks and nods slowly and I get a little nervous. He’s definitely up to something. “Oh, you asked for it.”

Five fingers covered in ketchup latch onto my face.

“NO!!!” I howl.

He laughs and smears the ketchup down my nose.

I move quickly, lift the lid to his shake and dive my entire hand into it! Liam and I both start laughing uncontrollably. I jump into the seat next to his. When he tries to duck and dodge my cold, chocolaty hand, I miss his face, but instead I get to rub it into his hair. Oh, it’s satisfying!

“Truce! Truce!” Liam calls.

I have a feeling it’s a fragile truce. “What are the terms?”

“No more shake or ketchup war,” he declares, “and I agree to taste your disgusting chocolate fucking French fry.”

“Thank you.”

We grab a handful of napkins and mop the ketchup and chocolate off ourselves as best we can. When Liam helps me wipe a bit off the side of my face, I just about melt at the sensation of his fingers on my skin. I’m fairly certain I still have ketchup in my ear canal, but I really don’t care at this point. I don’t even care that people are staring at us. This moment is worth it. I can’t remember the last time I had so much fun!

Once we’re both cleaned off, I dip a fry and give Liam a pointed stare. He opens his mouth and I shove the fry in. First he starts to gag and holds his throat like he’s choking to death, then he falls to the floor.

“Stop it! You’re drawing even more attention to us!” I’m laughing so hard and so much I can’t catch my breath.

He acts normal again, looks around at the people near us and announces real loud, “I’m okay, folks, nothing to worry about. Enjoy your meals.”

I slap his arm before I move back to my own seat. “You’re crazy.” I smile.