Taken With Trouble (CAUGHT IN CHAOS #2)

14. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

Serena

I’m in big trouble. And more than just the obvious. Liam’s stupid plan accomplished far more than he even realizes. I was attacked in a freaking bathroom before I could tell Caleb anything of value. I’ll have to pray he can connect the dots quickly, then find me and get me out of here.

I knew Liam had a plan earlier tonight. Which was why I devised my own after I was attacked in the bathroom. I’d let the man ‘kidnap’ me, drag me free from the restaurant, where I’d then gain the upper hand and disappear with his vehicle. Without Liam. It was stupidly simple. And somehow Liam still ruined it.

Because I can’t be here anymore. It’s not safe. I heard the man on the phone as he dragged me from the restaurant. “I got her.” That man wasn’t there for Liam. I can’t stick around and wait for him to find me again.

I splash some water on my face at the bathroom sink, once, then twice. I open the cupboard to find a clean face towel, but… What’s that?

Sleeping pills. I bite my bottom lip as I roll the pill bottle in my hands. When one door closes, another truly does open .

I dump three onto the counter and crush them with a ceramic figurine on the vanity. I brush the powder onto a piece of toilet paper and fold it up tight, then tuck it into my waistband.

I yawn loudly as I walk down the hall to the kitchen.

“Do you have tea?” I ask Liam, barely glancing in his direction. He’s sitting at the computer typing furiously, but he stops when I enter.

“You want tea?” His voice is almost accusatory.

“I like to drink it every night before bed. Helps me relax.” Never in my life have I done something so ridiculous as to drink tea before bed. The only relaxation technique I perform is to dismantle and reassemble my gun ten times in a row with my eyes closed. It works wonders.

Liam raises a brow as he wanders into the kitchen. “Really? And which flavor is your favorite?”

“Ros—Lavender.” That’s a tea, right?

“I have lavender. It’s not my favorite, though.” He pulls out a kettle, filling it with water. “I’ll make us some.”

“It’s okay, it looked like you were busy.” I step up next to him and try to take the kettle.

“I insist.” He uses his other hand to pry mine off. “Nothing like tea to help you sleep.”

My neck burns. He can’t know? Surely he can’t. Yet somehow the man knows everything, and it’s infuriating.

I take two deliberate steps away from him. “If you insist.”

Five minutes later, he places a cup in front of me at the counter then turns to get his own.

“Is it poisoned?” I ask, dropping the powder into mine while his back is turned. I stuff the toilet paper in my pants then give the tea a quick stir.

“Try it and find out.” He turns with a flourish, raising his cup to his lips.

“So…” I run my finger along the rim of the teacup. “You won’t mind trading?”

His eyes flash with something. Excitement? “Not at all.” He lowers his cup and slides it across the counter as I do the same. We eye each other as we lift the porcelain cups. Neither one of us wants to be the first to crack. But his brows are raised and waiting to call my bluff. I have to sell it.

I take a little sip and try not to gag on the horrid plant juice, which is harder to do when his eyes trace every little movement I make. It’s eerie. I pull the cup away from my lips, licking the nonexistent excess. His gaze snaps back to mine.

“Is that all you’re going to drink?”

“Why? Does the poison only work if I consume the whole cup?”

He simply raises the cup to his lips… and chugs. I take it as a challenge and drain the rest of the tea in one long, scalding, disgusting gulp.

“Sweet dreams.” He smiles.

“Goodnight.” I grin right back, then stand and head down the hall to his room.

But he follows me.

“What are you doing?” I whirl on him.

“Let’s call this what it is.” He steps forward until his solid chest brushes mine. “Neither of us trusts each other, so we are both going to sleep right here in this king-sized bed.”

I can’t think straight with him this close. The warmth of his body is distracting and not entirely unenjoyable. But wrong. Completely wrong.

“Fine.” I agree, if only to get him away from me. I shove him back then spin on my heel and walk into the room. I’m exhausted, and my body hurts from jumping out of a car and being knocked out a ridiculous amount of times in the last forty-eight hours. The bed looks like heaven. Too bad I won’t be enjoying it.

I yank the atrocious throw pillows off the neatly made bed, then line them down the middle.

“What are you doing?” he asks, humor evident in his voice.

“Creating a wall.”

“Worried you’ll put the moves on me in your sleep?”

I scoff. “It’s clearly the opposite.”

He slips into my periphery, pulling a lock of hair out of my face. “Oh Cruz, not even a wall the size of China would keep you safe from me. ”

A shiver runs through my body, slamming to a halt in my midsection with something akin to desire. But that can’t be right. I do not desire Liam in that way. He’s good with words and manipulation.

I flick him away, lifting the covers. “You get the other side.”

“Only one problem.” He grabs my hand, stopping me. “ This is my side.” My back is against his chest, his warm breath brushing my cheek. It takes everything in me not to cave or cower.

I clear my throat. “I always sleep closest to the door.”

“Me too.” He runs his fingers up my arm. “Seems we’re at an impasse. Shall we kiss for it?”

I spin around, landing my elbow in his stomach. He only laughs as I unwillingly take the other side of the bed. I refuse to look at him as I lie on my side, turned away from him.

“Sleeping with your shoes on?” he muses. “How relaxing.”

I hear the unmistakable sound of a zipper, and I whirl on him. “What are you doing?”

He’s still fully dressed in his shirt and slacks, but he laughs, holding a little pouch. “Taking my anxiety medicine.”

My confusion must be tattooed across my face.

“What? You think thieves can’t suffer from anxiety? It’s reserved solely for the good ones?”

I’m not sure what to say to that. I’m also… uh oh. Does he regularly mix sleeping pills with anxiety meds, or did I just kill him? I’ve been trying to do that since I got here, but I didn’t actually mean to kill him. I bite down hard on my lip. Is it getting hotter in here? He wouldn’t have sleeping pills in his house if the two were a dangerous combination, right?

I take a breath, calming my racing heart. “It’s just, it’s… you’re so confident and carefree.”

His brows fly up. “Was that a compliment?”

“No.”

He gives me a sad smile. “Well, I’m not. Not all the time, anyway. ”

I don’t want to know. I won’t ask. It doesn’t make him less of a criminal, but maybe it makes him more… human? Why didn’t he ever tell me? Though, why would he? I’m just an FBI agent, trying to bring him to justice. Hardly the person one trusts with such vulnerabilities.

“How long—” I clamp my lips shut. “Nope, sorry. Never mind. Don’t answer that.”

But he does. “Always.” He scrubs a hand over his five o’clock shadow. “I was never enough for my parents. It messed with me, I guess. When I was fifteen, my dearest friend disappeared, and I feared it was my fault.” He pauses, and my heart stutters. I study the shelf on the opposite wall. The eagle statue and the painting of the waterfall. Anywhere and everywhere to avoid his eyes. “It got worse after that. Then there was Scarlett.”

Right. Scarlett. His girlfriend. The woman he loved. I drop my head to my pillow and drag in a breath of air.

“Well…” I clear my throat. “I’m, uh, glad you have help.”

He kicks off his shoes and lies on the bed, rolling onto his side toward me. “Are you?”

I swallow. “Of course.”

“Because you’ve grown fond of me?” I can’t see his face because of the pillow wall, but I can feel his smirk, his confidence like he can see my destiny, and it involves me and him.

“No.”

He yawns. “One of these days, maybe I’ll believe you.”

He claps his hands and the lights go off. It should be more relaxing, but it’s not. It’s too dark, and much too quiet. There are no sounds, no light. Only a tension in the air and the sound of his breathing. I swear I can hear his heartbeat, too. No wait, that’s mine.

Why is it racing?

I tuck my gun under my pillow and adjust my body.

I need to stick with my plan. As soon as he falls asleep, I’m out of here. I close my eyes while I wait for him to drift off.

And wait .

And…

My eyelids practically groan as I force them open. A heavy weight is on my chest, and I can’t remember where I am. I blink repeatedly, trying to focus on something. Anything. Is that a clock on the wall?

No, it can’t be. It says it’s one…

In the afternoon.

What on earth? There are no windows in this forsaken cave, so I can’t confirm, but everything feels… wrong.

The weight on my chest moves, and I scream.

Liam’s face pops up from where it was apparently next to mine. “What’s wrong?” His voice is groggy, and his hair is mussed from sleep, visible only by the tiny sliver of light coming from the alarm clock.

“ You. ” I shove him off, only realizing when my hand connects with his skin that he’s shirtless and very warm. He went to bed fully clothed. “It’s one in the afternoon.”

He frowns, looking at the time. “How did that happen?”

I know exactly how it happened. “You drugged me!”

“You drugged me back!”

I fall against the pillow. “I hate you.”

“I’m not too fond of you right now either,” he grunts. He claps his hands, and the lights blaze, burning my irises. “Did you undress me, too?” he asks, patting his chest.

“No.” There’s one remaining throw pillow between us, which is extremely concerning, and I chuck it at him.

“I can’t believe you,” he mutters.

“What? Did I mess up your grand plans of running off?”

“Did I ruin yours? ”

I stare him down. We’re at a stalemate.

“Where’s your partner and the FBI team beating down the door?” he asks, his blue eyes unnaturally cold this morning. Er, this afternoon.

I swallow. “It’s possible Agent Harris didn’t hear everything when I was attacked in the bathroom.”

Liam has the decency to look at least a little reprimanded and breaks eye contact first. “Come on, we’ve got a lot of ground to cover before the gala. And I missed my window to sneak into the mausoleum.” He curses again before striding into the walk-in closet, still shirtless. “We’ve got tickets to the Moore Estate at four.”

I skip over the last thing he said. “I don’t remember the mausoleum being on the agenda.”

“That’s because it was on mine, not yours.” He pulls a suit bag out from a row of at least fifteen other suit bags in his closet because the man doesn’t believe in leisure wear.

He reaches for his waistband, and I hastily retreat to the bathroom.

I need a new plan since he blew up the last two. Maybe I can double-cross him at the gala.

Caleb’s going to figure it out. I’m sure. He’ll realize I’m with Liam and that we are planning to meet with the Winthrops, who will also be at the gala and help me get out of here.

I groan internally. Caleb isn’t a mind reader or future teller. There’s no evidence lying around for him to find. He’ll have to pull at loose strings to find me.

Maybe he doesn’t care to find me.

My heart stops at that thought. We are just partners and only have been for a couple of months. I should have called Ford. But it’s too little too late.

I’ll have to trust that Caleb can find me. And when he does, I’ll be ready to turn Liam in and finally be free.

But will I ever really be?

I scrub my hands under burning water, forcing myself to breathe. I have to get out of this country before everything blows up in my face. Which means I need to know everything Liam has planned and use it to plan my own escape. But I’m beginning to worry that the only way out of this is with Liam.

I step out of the bathroom and see Liam stewing at his computer. His irritation only makes me more annoyed. He brought this on himself. But I bite back the cutting remarks waiting on my tongue.

“Okay, look,” I say. “I think we can be more effective if we stop working against each other. So, tell me the plan. All of it. No secrets.”

He leans back in his chair, lips pursed. “Tempting. You almost sound nice.” He shakes his head. “I don’t trust nice you.”

“You need me to get to the Winthrops without being captured by hitmen.”

“That’s debatable.” His lips curve. “Apparently, I brought one home with me. Good thing she sucks at her job.”

I clench my fists. “You dragged me into this, now I’m here. Let’s do it right.” I’m one second from stomping my foot like a child. Why must he be so miserable?

“Alright, since you’re in the spirit of teamwork…?” He pauses, looking up for confirmation.

“I am,” I say through clenched teeth.

“You’ll do as I say?”

I bite my bottom lip so hard I draw blood. “Yes.”

He stands, stepping into my space. His hair is mussed from sleep, which is kind of adora—

No. No thoughts like that.

“And what if danger should find us on this journey,” Liam says, his voice dropping low and suggestive, “and the only way to remain safe is to make out behind a statue?”

“If—” I choke on the word, darting a glance at his lips trying but failing to find them off-putting. Instead, blood floods my cheeks and I look away. “For the sake of context, if that is the absolute last-case scenario, and all necessary criteria has been met… then I suppose it would be appropriate for the sake of safety. But mouths must remain closed at all times. ”

His blue eyes light so brilliantly, one could be intoxicated just by the sight. “Agent Cruz, I do believe we are getting somewhere. Now one last question. How do you feel about dresses?”

“I will maim you.”

“Looking forward to it. But right now we’re late for your appointment.”