Taken With Trouble (CAUGHT IN CHAOS #2)

6. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Serena

The window is in fact welded shut, and I curse Liam for the hundredth time.

I’m not going to sleep. I don’t trust the man on the other side of the door. So instead, I’ll do what I’m good at: investigate. I search every one of the drawers, under the bed, ceiling vent, loose floorboards, cracks in the wall, everything.

There’s nothing. Nothing personal, nothing incriminating. Because this isn’t his actual home. He brought me to a neutral safe house.

I know for a fact he isn’t sleeping out there, either. It’s like he’s mimicking my movements. When I’m at one end of the room, he’s at the same end of the living room. I open a drawer in the dresser, and he opens a drawer in the TV stand directly on the other side of the wall. It’s infuriating.

I don’t know what game we have engaged in, but I will win.

Finally, I shut myself in the bathroom, searching through the mostly bare cabinets for items to use as a weapon should he try to drug me again. I lift the lid of the toilet. This is where I keep a 9mm at my apartment, and it looks like Liam did, too… until recently. I catch sight of a shaving razor hidden mostly behind the trash can, like Liam tossed it and missed. I pocket it, then return to the bed, staring out my welded window.

I’ve been imprisoned… by the man I’m trying to imprison .

The irony is distressing.

So is the déjà vu. Fifteen years ago, I was sitting on a bed, looking out a window at the very same tower, knowing my life would never be the same. My grandmother had sent me to boarding school, then died. I was completely alone in a city brimming with life. I have no good memories here.

But that’s not even the most frightening part of this situation.

I’m way too close to him . My ex. My heart thumps loudly in my ears with memories better left forgotten. My eyes sting, and I pinch them closed.

I pull out my badge, running my shaky fingers over the gold shield. The familiarity of the motion instantly slows my pulse, and my breathing spaces out. I slip out my photo, and on the back are the words I wrote that were said to me when I left this continent seven years ago.

Everything will be okay.

The words are so faded they are barely legible, but the memory of the friend I left behind still calms me.

Everything will be okay.

One thing is for sure: Liam has a plan. The only way I’m going to make it out on top is if I have one of my own.

I excel at plans.

I ended up drifting off for an hour or two, scrunched against the headboard, turned toward the window, running for my life in a dream I never fully understand.

The smell of sausage wafts under the door tugging me in with its heavenly aroma. When was the last time I ate?

Better yet. What day is it?

I have far too many unanswered questions .

Armed with an overwhelmingly uneasy feeling, I stomp out of the bedroom preparing for another fight, but find Liam… cooking?

I halt, fearing I just walked in on something more nefarious than a simple meal.

Surely kidnappers don’t waste valuable time playing house.

Liam looks up from the stove and grins, a dimple creasing his cheek. “Morning, beautiful,” he says, flipping a towel over his shoulder and giving the entire scene a very domestic feel. Women all over the world would kill to wake up to this sight: a handsome man, dressed in a suit, looking like he stepped off a runway and landed in the kitchen, ready to hand-feed me grapes.

The man is the definition of seduction, and I am…clearly delirious.

I blink. “Do you always feed your captives?”

“Only the pretty ones.” He winks, a lock of his hair slipping down his forehead.

I shouldn’t, but the plate of sausage and eggs is only ten steps away, captivating every sense I have. I stomp forward and snatch a sausage link, stuffing it into my mouth. I nearly groan. It’s perfectly seasoned and crispy on the edges—the way I like it.

Liam raises a single eyebrow. “Careful, it’s poisoned.”

I freeze mid-bite.

Screw it.

I’m starving. If this is how I go, I choose food.

I finish chewing and straighten my shoulders. “About that. Drug me again, and I will not hesitate to stab you with an artifact next time.”

His left eyebrow flicks up. “Testy. Allow me to repeat… I did not drug you the first time. One of the bounty hunters following me did the honors. The second time was out of necessity, so I didn’t get caught in my con.”

I’m a part of a con man’s con. I grip the edge of the counter to keep myself upright. I’m so getting fired. I’m going to be sent to a federal prison and become the target of people I helped lock away.

No.

I’m picturing the wrong person in orange .

I straighten with confidence I don’t feel. “I cannot wait to see you rot in a cement prison cell with nothing but a rat and a bedpan for your cellmates.”

His eyebrows raise a fraction of an inch. “I see you’ve devoted some time to thinking about this. Here.” He drops a pancake on a plate and motions to it with the spatula. “You’ll feel better after you eat.”

I ignore the pancake and take the whole plate of sausage and eggs instead. I don’t need empty carbs; I need protein and fats.

Liam slaps a hand to his chest. “Now that’s just cold.”

I spin around and walk toward the table before he can try to steal it back. He follows, plopping down opposite me with his tower of pancakes.

I pick up another sausage link, the grease coating my fingers, and level Liam with a glare. “So, would you care to fill me in on your plans today before or after I haul you to the embassy?”

“Perhaps we should save the talking for after you’ve consumed a thousand calories of sausage,” Liam says, spreading butter and syrup in spirals over his pancake stack like it’s a painting he’s forging.

“Perhaps you shouldn’t have kidnapped me.”

“Fair.” He cuts into his perfect stack of pancakes. They’re so fluffy, I almost regret rejecting them. Almost.

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t kill you,” I say, poking some eggs and aiming my fork at him.

“Not to be rude, but your attempts thus far have proved extremely unsuccessful. I’d wager you couldn’t kill me, period.”

He underestimates the amount of anger I carry inside me. “Don’t place too much money on it, pretty boy. At the end of whatever this is, I will win.”

His eyes glint like he appreciates the challenge. “Now, I simply must. What shall we like fools lose our money on?”

“I’m not giving you a cent.”

He nods. “Exchange rates. Agreed. I say we barter with much more lucrative substances: secrets.”

The eggs lodge in my throat, and I grab a glass of water from the table and take a drink. I wonder if this glass is heavy enough to knock him out .

“I don’t have secrets.”

“We both know that’s not true. Your secret, or your heart, ‘tis all I require.” His voice drops an octave, sending tingles skittering over my skin and converging into an anxious knot in my stomach. He won’t receive either. My fingers clench around my fork, but he places his hand over mine, drawing my gaze to his face. “If you can get me to the right authorities without killing me, I’ll offer you a secret of my own. You must be curious.”

“I’m not.” I snatch my hand away. “I don’t want anything from you.”

He shoots me a smolder I’m sure has na?ve women fawning all over him. “That’s what you say now.”

We eat in competitive silence, staring into each other’s eyes like if we stare hard enough, we can scorch the other person’s darkened soul.

He finishes his stack of pancakes without even looking at his plate, then stands, breaking eye contact first. Sucker. He scoops up my plate and takes it to the sink.

“You should change before we go out,” Liam says, as he washes the dishes. It’s unnerving watching a con man clean my plate. Allowing him to take care of me in any way feels wrong. Dirty.

“Change? Into what?” I would love to change, but since I didn’t have any warning about this trip abroad, I have nothing to change into.

He turns off the sink and goes to a closet by the door, pulling out a royal purple garment bag with a fancy gold logo I don’t recognize. “I had something sent up for you.”

“No, thank you.”

“You’re really going to meet the Winthrops in that?” His eyes scour my body and his lips purse in disapproval at my wrinkled pantsuit. “They’ll throw you out and only invite me in. On second thought, go ahead. I’m ready for a vacation.”

“To prison.” I snatch the bag out of his hand.

I’m halfway to the bedroom when I stop and turn. I’m not letting him out of my sight today. Last night, I was overwhelmed, a small part of me hoping that maybe this was all a bad dream, but today I’m thinking clearly. If keeping him in my sight at all times is what I have to do, I’ll do it. After we meet with the Winthrops, I’ll find a way to contact Caleb. He’ll have a team at the airport by dinner. Maybe S-A-C Ford will be there to see me dragging Liam’s sorry butt into custody, and he’ll fall in love with me on the spot.

It will all be worth it when he takes me in his arms an—

“Are you all right, there?” Liam’s annoying voice breaks through my fantasies. “You look like you have some massive gas.”

I blink, coming back to my senses and swinging the garment bag at his face. “Just dreaming about how I’m going to lock you up.”

He frowns. “In that case, stop dreaming about me. That was terrifying.” He stalks into the kitchen.

“Turn,” I say.

“Excuse me?”

“Turn around. I’m not letting you out of my sight, and you’re not watching me get dressed.”

“Someone’s taking their job seriously,” he says, but for once, obeys and turns the other way. “Go ahead.” He waves me on. “You can watch me change next.”

My back stiffens. I thought he was ready to go. Who wears a full suit to make breakfast? Oh right. Liam does. I wouldn’t be surprised if he sleeps in a three-piece tux.

“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it,” I mutter.

I use the door of the coat closet to hang up the bag, then hide half my body behind it. I unzip the bag and run my fingers over the silky-smooth navy-blue blazer and matching pants. I slip off my pants first, changing quickly. The bottoms fit like a glove. Tight in all the right places… wait.

“How are these pants my exact size?”

Liam scratches the back of his neck. “Do you really want me to answer that?”

He checked me out while I was in a coffin. I’ve never felt so violated. “I’m going to feed you to a pack of rabid wolves.”

“Oh, that’s a fun threat, but I think we can do better. Keep them coming, love. ”

I pull off my shirt, glaring at Liam’s back to ensure he’s following orders. I button the silk shirt and pull on the blazer.

This is the most expensive outfit I’ve ever worn; I can tell by the near buttery texture of the fabric. It isn’t government-issued apparel. I feel like I’m betraying my country, but this is… this is heaven.

“Finished?”

I tuck my shirt in, then step out from behind my mini barrier, grabbing the shoes, which are also… an annoyingly perfect fit. “Yes.”

Liam turns around, his eyes taking a meticulously long, lingering journey down my body, seeming to scorch me as he does. “Gorgeous.”

Something about that word causes the slightest flutter in my chest. It’s nothing. Absolutely nothing. It’s just been a long time since I’ve been complimented by a man. Unfamiliar territory.

“It’s even better on you than it was on the corpse,” Liam says.

The flutter turns to lead. “ What ?”

His eyes dance. “I’m kidding. I had it specially made for you. Though, if I’d known you were going to wear that hideous sports bra underneath, I would have ordered you a better one.”

“Excuse me! My bra is just fine. It’s practical and supportive and—” I blink. “ You watched me change ?” There’s a book on the side table closest to me, and I pick it up and chuck it at him.

“Not Winston Churchill’s Bible.” He dives to catch it.

I can’t believe he looked. Or maybe I can believe it, but he was turned away… A cold chill sweeps up my spine. “You saw me in the reflection of the microwave.” I throw a punch, but he dodges it.

“You told me to turn, and I did. You should have been more specific about where you wanted my eyes to be.”

“I’ll show you where your eyes should be.” I lunge at him again, but he dodges quickly, putting the couch between us.

“It was only a small glimpse, I promise. Then I closed my eyes like a proper gentleman. ”

“A gentleman?” My voice is nearing hysterical. “You are the furthest thing from a gentleman.”

I take off after him, and he sprints around the couch. “As sexy as I find this little game of cat and mouse, we are going to be late. We can wrestle later. Deal?”

Oh, I will. Not wrestle… but punch him in his perfectly cut jawline.

I quickly retrieve the bag from the bedroom containing the jewelry box. “Let’s go.”

“Wait, I need to change,” Liam says.

If only he could. “Then I guess you shouldn’t have wasted time watching me.”

“Okay, okay. Wait.” He grabs a bag from a hidden compartment under the couch, and I make a mental note to check there later to see what else he is hiding from me… if I ever step foot in this awful place again.

I stomp past him to the door, but he snatches my wrist, pulling me back. My opposite fist comes up as a natural reaction to counter his attack, but he catches it in his palm. “Easy there, killer.”

He drops my wrist, and his hand slides to my waist, while his other hand slips over my hip and down my leg.

Shock is the only reason it takes me a moment to shove him away. Not because I want to be near him or be touched by him. “Are you frisking me?”

“Do you need to be frisked?” He wiggles his eyebrows. “I’ll let you frisk me next.”

He’s got to be kidding.

“I see you found my razor.” He nods to my chest where I stuffed the razor in my bra.

Does he have laser vision or something?

“Don’t worry, I’ll let you keep it.” His hands slide up my side, his thumb drifting over my hip, my ribs. I try not to shudder. “Was that not a fun search?” he whispers, then leans in until his lips graze my ear. “I do believe we will have fun together, Agent Cruz. Would you like to search me now? ”

Against my better judgment, I do. And I do it thoroughly. Not a weapon to be found at his waist, along his toned back, or between his abs. Only when his pecs jump beneath my touch do I realize: he did this on purpose.

I shove his chest. “You’re a pig.”

He laughs and grabs another bag from a spot above the door. “I’ve been called worse.”