Liam's Witness Protection (Man On A Mission 4) (14 page)

“Liam?” She was going to tell him. Everything. She was. She
was.

“Right here, Cate.”

Her courage failed her and she knew she couldn’t.
Not yet,
her heart cried. She couldn’t bear it if Liam looked at her differently. Even if he said it didn’t matter, how could it not? Alec and Angelina hadn’t judged her, but the prosecutors had—she knew it. They hadn’t said anything, but she’d seen their eyes when she told them...and their tone of voice had changed when they questioned her further. A subtle difference...but a difference all the same.

Would Liam still touch her in that reverent way he’d touched her last night, as if she was something precious? Would he still treat her with respect and that old-fashioned courtesy that reminded her of her youth in Zakhar? Or would his opinion of her be colored by the truth—a truth that damned her in the eyes of most people—the same way the prosecutors’ opinions of her had been changed?

She wanted to believe it wouldn’t matter to Liam. She wanted so dreadfully to believe...but she couldn’t. “Never mind,” she said quickly, pasting a fake smile on her face she knew didn’t fool him. “It’s not important.”

* * *

Night had fallen hours earlier on the East Coast, and Aleksandrov Vishenko was raging in his Manhattan condo. Raging...and drinking. Slurring his words as he sloshed more Courvoisier into his snifter and cursed the law enforcement bureaucrat—his antecedents, his morals, everything. He tossed back his head and swallowed the contents of his glass in one gulp, then smashed the snifter into the fireplace. A string of Russian obscenities relieved the worst of his frustration, but what made him feel even better was planning his revenge. Once the man revealed Caterina’s whereabouts and Vishenko had taken care of her, he would obliterate the bureaucrat. It would be poetic justice.
Bratva
justice. He would recover the ten-million-dollar price he’d paid...and kill Nick D’Arcy.

* * *

Cate had avoided Liam as best she could—which wasn’t all that much in a one-room cabin, but she’d tried. She’d brushed her teeth and changed into her pajamas before eight o’clock, pretending she was tired and wanted an early night, and Liam hadn’t objected. He’d set up his cot beside the fireplace again, and had turned off the overhead light long since. The rhythmic sound of his breathing—you couldn’t really call it snoring—followed soon after, and she knew he was asleep already.

But the book Cate was reading wasn’t conducive to making her sleepy, and eventually she turned off the lamp and just laid there wide-awake in bed, listening to Liam sleeping.

“The past is the past, Cate,”
he’d told her.
“...You haven’t been trying to relinquish the past. You’ve been trying to outrun it, and that won’t work. The past will always catch up with you if you try to outrun it. You’ve got to just let it go.”

She wanted to. She did. She really did. Last night Liam had shown her she could...if she let herself. Last night he’d proved her wrong, too. He’d proved Vishenko hadn’t killed that part of her as she’d thought, the part that could respond to a man’s loving touch. If she was wrong about that, what else was she wrong about? Was Liam right when he said she wasn’t a coward because she’d run instead of killing Vishenko all those years ago?

She wanted to believe it. Just as she wanted to believe in Liam’s love. If those things were true...if she could believe them...then maybe her life could be more than just existing day-to-day. Maybe she could have a future...with Liam.

Then she remembered and shuddered uncontrollably, clenching her hands together, digging the nails of one hand into the palm of the other. Liam didn’t know
everything.
She hadn’t told him because she didn’t want him to know. But when she testified, the whole world would know she hadn’t fought Vishenko to the bitter end. The whole world would know she’d surrendered...and so would Liam.

Coward, coward, coward,
she mocked herself, knowing she should have told him the truth. The whole truth. Keeping that secret from him condemned her just as much as her actions almost eight years ago.

So many things she should have done, but hadn’t. Not the least of which was, why hadn’t she fought longer? Why had she surrendered? Easy now to say she would never have escaped if Vishenko hadn’t believed he’d conquered her. Easy now to say he would never have relaxed his guard around her so she could testify against him if he hadn’t believed she was vanquished. Easy now to say she would never have had access to the documents that were so vital to the conspiracy trial if he hadn’t believed he’d broken her spirit.

Liam was right that she didn’t have it in her to kill Vishenko as he lay sleeping the night she escaped. She’d hated him then with an intense passion that craved vengeance—and she still did. But she hadn’t been able to kill him. Even if she’d known what he would do in the future, who would die, could she have killed him? Coldly? Calculatingly?

No. And not because she was a coward. Liam was right about that after all. Was he right about everything?

Suddenly she wanted to see Liam. Talk to him. Thank him for helping her realize the truth about herself—that she wasn’t a coward just because she couldn’t kill. And more. She wanted what he’d given her last night. She wanted to lie in his arms and believe herself loved. Cherished. She wanted to let the past go and just be...Cate. Cate and Liam. To experience everything he had to offer.

She slipped from the bed and soundlessly made her way to Liam’s cot. Moonlight through the front window gave her enough light to see by, and she knelt beside the cot, then hesitated. His face in sleep was just different enough from his waking self so she knew he was asleep, and he seemed so peaceful lying there she didn’t have the heart to waken him.

She couldn’t help cataloging his face though, as she watched him sleep—feature by feature. Nothing distinctive, except perhaps his eyelashes. Absurdly long for a man, which was even more obvious when seen with his eyes closed. But she was intensely attracted to him. Why? He wasn’t traditionally handsome—his features were too stark for that. So what was it about Liam that set him apart from everyone else, even Alec, whom Liam resembled so closely?

It’s not his face,
she realized eventually.
It’s his character. His character is reflected in his face, in his eyes.
Morally strong, with a tender heart. So generous, too—a born giver. And kind. A good man, like his brother.
Yes, like Alec, but somehow more. More concerned. More protective. More emotionally involved. All the virtues, in fact, of the best heroes in the romance novels she secretly loved. Her knight in shining armor.

Suddenly she realized he was awake and watching her with those beautiful brown eyes. As if he’d sensed her presence beside his cot. “What’s wrong, Cate?” he whispered, reaching immediately for the holstered gun hanging over the edge of the cot.

She put out a hand to stop him. “Nothing’s wrong,” she said softly. “I just...” She couldn’t bring herself to put what she wanted into words.

But he seemed to read her mind, because his hand stopped reaching for his gun and cupped her cheek instead. “Tell me, Cate. Tell me what you need.”

At first she couldn’t get the words out, then she managed, “You. I need you.”

Chapter 14

C
ate could never remember exactly how they ended up back in the double bed, but somehow they did. And Liam was touching her as he’d done last night, with lips and hands that made her ache and want something just beyond her grasp. But this time she wanted more. She just didn’t know how to ask.

She was also afraid. Afraid that when it came down to it, she’d panic as she’d done this morning when she’d woken in Liam’s arms. She didn’t want to do that to him, but she didn’t know how to prevent it. And the fear made her stiffen against him. Only a tiny movement, but she knew he could feel it.

Again he seemed to read her mind. “Hey,” he said as his hands touched hers. “Your hands are cold, sweetheart. Let me warm them up.” And he drew them up underneath his T-shirt, pressing them against his chest. Letting the furnace of his body drive the chill from hers. After a moment she daringly slid one hand around beneath his arm and caressed his back, which was even more searingly warm than his chest. Then she hid her face against his shoulder.

“Hey,” he said again. “You don’t need to be shy with me. It’s just me, Cate. You know I won’t do anything you don’t want me to do.”

“That’s just it,” she said in a small voice. “I want you to...but I... I don’t know how to tell you what I...and I’m afraid.”

He cuddled her close. “Afraid of me?” The way he said it indicated there was absolutely no reason for her to be afraid of him...and she believed it.

She shook her head. “Afraid of me. Afraid I’ll remember...and panic.” Her face contracted in fear she wouldn’t be able to go through with it. Fear she would hurt him if that happened. And she’d rather do anything except hurt Liam.

* * *

Liam marveled that he hadn’t thought of it before. He laid back against the pillows and murmured, “Make love to me, Cate.”

“What?” She gave him one startled look, then glanced away.

“You want me...
that
way. I know you do. You said it yourself, so you know it, too...in your heart. But the only way to get past what he did to you is to let you be in control of your body. All the way. To let you be in control of
my
body. To take whatever you want, however you want it. However little or however much.”

He tore off his T-shirt and stripped away his boxer shorts, letting her see him completely naked for the first time. Letting her see his arousal. “This is what you do to me, Cate,” he told her gently. “But this is a good thing...when a man loves a woman the way I love you. I want you to know it in your head. I want you to believe it in your heart. I want you to
feel
it in your bones there’s no reason to panic. No need to be afraid. I love you. And I’ll never force you in any way. Never take anything you don’t willingly give. That’s why I want you to make love to me. To prove it to yourself. You can do whatever you want to me, for however long you want. But the minute you stop, we stop.”

She hesitated. “How can you know...” Color suffused her face. “What if I can’t go through with it? What if I can only go so far, without remembering...”

“Because I love you. That’s how I know.” His voice was husky with repressed desire. “I want to be inside you, Cate. I want to feel you tight around me, and I want to be so deep it’s as if we’re one—as if we’ve never been apart. I want to breathe in unison with you, sharing those little tremors of desire. Then I want to move inside you until we both can’t bear it, until the pleasure is so great we both explode.” Her shiver of awareness told him his words affected her powerfully, and he knew she
did
want him nearly as much as he wanted her.

“But I swear to you, I’ll stop the instant you say stop. Because no matter how much I want you, I want something else more. I want you to trust me in every fiber of your being. I want you to know you’re safe with me...in every way. Because I love you.”

Say it,
he begged her in his mind. S
ay the words I know you want to say. The words I need to hear.

She touched his face tentatively, then his lips. As if her fingers were able to distinguish truth from lies merely by touch. “I love you, Cate,” he whispered, brushing a kiss against her fingers. “Let me prove it to you. Trust me. Trust me this once, and I swear you’ll never regret it.”

“I do trust you.” Her voice was barely audible. “And I... I...” Her breath came in little pants, and Liam could see in her eyes she wanted to say the words...but was just as afraid to admit she loved him as she was afraid she wouldn’t be able to go through with making love with him. He suppressed his regret she couldn’t say the words he longed for, because the words weren’t as important as proving to Cate she could do this.

“Touch me,” he invited in his deepest voice. “Touch me. Take me. Whatever you want, I want. Whatever you need, that’s what I want to give you. No force between us, ever.” His voice dropped to a seductive whisper. “Touch me, Cate. You want to. So just touch me.”

She touched him. Hesitantly at first, her fingertips just barely touching the proof of his desire. When he reacted...visibly...she drew her hand back sharply.

Liam laughed softly, reassuringly. “It’s okay, sweetheart. That’s normal. You touch me and I feel it. And my body reacts, especially there. That’s the way I’m made. You’re made that way, too. When I caress you...your body reacts. When I stroke your breasts, when I suckle them, you feel it...everywhere. Don’t you.”

His last words were a statement, not a question, but she answered anyway. “Yes.” He knew by the expression on her face she was remembering last night, when he’d proved her wrong. When he’d proved she
could
feel what other women felt during lovemaking.

“And when I touch you
there
, you enjoy that, too.”

“Yes.” Just a fraction above a whisper. “I do, Liam. I didn’t think I could, but I...”

“So when
you
touch
me
there, I enjoy it. Immensely. That’s the way it’s supposed to work. We touch, we kiss, we caress. We give each other pleasure. One feeds the other, until...” Inside he was begging,
Touch me, Cate. Don’t stop touching me. Don’t be afraid.

She touched him again, and this time her fingers curled around his erection. He swelled when her fingers made contact, and he thought he’d explode just from the intimate connection he’d wanted almost since the first moment he’d seen her. What he’d waited so long to have. But he held back by sheer will, wanting her to believe in him.

He tried to speak but found his emotions in the way. He cleared his throat. “Keep going, sweetheart. You’re in control. Whatever you want to do, just do. Think about the way I touched you last night, and do the same to me now. You can do it, Cate. You can give me the same pleasure I gave you. But everything stops when you stop, I promise.”
Trust me,
his heart pleaded.

He almost arched off the bed when she stroked him, her fingers squeezing just tightly enough for pleasure, not pain. She quickly found a natural rhythm, and Liam’s whole body condensed down into a pulsing, pounding need. He tried to hold back, wanting to prolong his pleasure, and wanting, also, to let her see he could control his desire, but it got away from him. Everything got away from him and he cried out as he bucked uncontrollably and thrust himself into her hand. Again. And again.

When it was all over he opened his eyes, afraid he’d shocked Cate, but she surprised him. “I did it,” she marveled, almost as if she were talking to herself. “I did it.”

Little tremors still transmitted themselves from him to her. “Yeah,” he agreed, his voice husky with the remnants of desire. “Hell yeah.” He wasn’t sure exactly what she was referring to, but whatever it was, it was true—she’d done it.

She reached over to the nightstand and grabbed a tissue, cleaning him inexpertly but with a loving touch. “I was afraid,” she explained solemnly, but with a light in her eyes that told him she was thrilled she’d conquered her fear. “I thought I wouldn’t be able to...but you...you waited. You let me...all the way. Touch you,” she said disjointedly. “My way. I was afraid you would...but you didn’t.” She smiled a beatific smile. “I did it. And it didn’t hurt me.”

The sense of euphoria that had enveloped Liam suddenly dissipated as a devastating pain tore through his heart. Cate trusted him...but only so far. No matter what she said, she’d still been afraid he wouldn’t let her take him all the way, that at some point he’d force his way into her body the way Vishenko had done. Numerous times. Hurting her. Taking pleasure in hurting her.

Rage at Aleksandrov Vishenko slashed through him. And he knew with startling certainty that if Vishenko was there right now, he’d kill him for what he’d done to Cate. Kill him in that instant like the rabid animal he was. With no more remorse than that it was necessary to protect the innocent.

Vengeance,
he realized with a sense of shock.
That’s what Cody felt when Keira was shot. That’s what I want. Vengeance.

He reeled mentally. He didn’t want to believe it about himself...but it was the truth. He wanted vengeance. Not justice. Vengeance. Exactly what he’d condemned in his brother-in-law, that’s what he was feeling.

Then he suppressed that thought ruthlessly. Pushed it out of his mind to consider later, because he had something more important to do at this moment.

He leveraged himself easily into a sitting position, then cradled Cate’s face in his hands and kissed her gently on the lips, waiting for her eyes to meet his. “I will never hurt you, Cate,” he promised. “Never. I proved it just now, didn’t I?” When she didn’t answer, he insisted, “Didn’t I?”

She smiled again, a tremulous smile that was its own reward. “Yes,” she agreed. “You did.”

He knew it wasn’t enough. But it was a start. He’d shown her last night she was capable of sexual pleasure. Tonight he’d demonstrated a man could find pleasure with a woman without hurting her. But it was a far cry from what he ultimately wanted with Cate. For her. Hell no, not just for her, for himself, too. He wanted it all...for both of them.

He sighed mentally, but didn’t let it show on his face. Instead, he drew Cate down to the bed with him and pulled the sheet over them as he settled her in the crook of his arm. “Warm enough?” he asked.

“Mmm-hmm.” She nodded for emphasis.

“Okay if I hold you like this?” Naked, was what he meant. Needing to know if she preferred he put his T-shirt and boxers back on. Needing to know if she was even the slightest bit uncomfortable with him naked.

She snuggled her cheek against his chest, and slid her hand down until it was nestled against his bare hip. “Please.”

He smiled in the darkness.
One step at a time,
he reminded himself with a patience that didn’t come naturally to him—he had to fight for it.
One baby step at a time.

* * *

Aleksandrov Vishenko’s Learjet landed in the same private airport in Arlington, Virginia, where it had landed four days before. Again he was early, which was par for the course with Vishenko. Meticulous planning had always ensured success...even when it came to murder.

The sun was setting, and he pulled down the window shade to block the dying sun’s rays, waiting with as much patience as he could muster—hard-won patience given the past four days with no word from Nick D’Arcy—and reviewing his plan in his mind, looking for weaknesses.

Item one: pay D’Arcy the bribe and learn Caterina Mateja’s whereabouts. Item two: dispatch his chief brigadier to dispose of her. The job wouldn’t normally be handled by a man that high in the
Bratva
ranks, but Vishenko was taking no chances. Caterina
had
to die
now
, and he couldn’t take the risk she would slip through his fingers again. Item three: recover the bribe. Ten million dollars was a lot of money. He might as well get the money back if he could. Item four: kill Nick D’Arcy in a way that would not only give him the revenge he craved for what D’Arcy had put him through, but would expose the chinks in the agency’s armor. How good could they be if they couldn’t even keep the head of their agency safe?

The agency had been riding high these past few years. Unknown to the general public, but fast becoming the darling of US law enforcement. D’Arcy’s assassination would send shock waves through the entire law enforcement community, not just the agency. And Caterina’s death would have the added bonus of sending a chilling message to anyone who was considering betraying him. It wasn’t the first time he’d sent such a message—and it wouldn’t be the last.

* * *

Four days after Cate had made love to him, Liam was still reiterating in his mind what he’d told himself then—
one baby step at a time.

They’d made progress. He touched Cate constantly now. Natural touches—holding her hand as they hiked the trails around the cabin, touching her arm to draw attention to a doe and her fawn beside the river’s edge, taking the dishes from her as she washed and he dried. Kissing her on impulse—light kisses, not passionate ones, but kisses all the same. And she touched him, too. Maybe not quite as often, but just as naturally. She’d never again kissed him first, though. But she
had
responded when he’d kissed her. Shyly to start out with, but eventually the shyness had given way to something more. It was the something more that gave him hope.

They’d shared the same bed too, every night. They hadn’t made love, but Cate had slept in his arms. And at no point had she panicked. At no point had she been afraid of him. He wanted more, but he fought down his desire. Cate wasn’t ready for more—not yet. When she was, he would know.

And she looked at him with love shining from her pale blue eyes, turning them into stars. She never said the words, but he could live without them. They were just words. That didn’t mean he didn’t say the words to her—he did. Every chance he had. Knowing in some deep recess of his brain Cate desperately needed to
hear
the words she couldn’t say. Someday, when he’d convinced her she was loved—that she was
worthy
of being loved—she’d trust him enough to say the words to him. He knew it.