Part 32 (2/2)

Liam, she thought. The first tear escaped, and she tried not to let him see. Oh, Liam. If only I could tell you the truth. If only you'd believe it.

But for now, for this time out of time, maybe some part of him did.

Chapter Twenty-One.

Not heaven itself upon the past has power; But what has been, has been, and I have had my hour.

a”John Dryden SHE SLEPT.

Liam watched her from beside the bed, holding his s.h.i.+rt in his fists. He'd thought she'd never sleep; she'd kept herself awake with a strange fierce adamancy, as if she couldn't trust him the minute her back was turned.

As if she could keep him here forever.

He wanted to caress her, to love her again. Her dark lashes were thick against her cheek, her hair tangled on her forehead, her lithe body sweetly curled on the bed in unconscious invitation. And she would have welcomed him.

But there was Perry to deal with. Nothing Mac could say, nothing she could do would divert him from his course.

Not even her devastating questions, the way she'd probed and pushed until he was revealing things about himself he had never understood. Flaws even he had not recognized. Revelations she'd presented to him with pity in her eyes, having led him to bare his heart until he had nothing left of his manhood.

She had that powera”to make him forget his strength and pride, to suck at his soul with a witch's talent for overcoming his resistance.

He had been more exposed than any mere nakedness displayed. She knew the full measure of his weakness. And still she'd pulled him down into her arms and he'd let himself be drawn into oblivion, unable to fight for what self-respect remained to him.

She had taken it all. She had made him need, when he'd never needed before. She'd given her comfort with such selfless n.o.bility, generous in her victory.

Victory.

He reached down, his hand inches above her hair. No. He'd not be weak again. Mac was like a force of nature, a quiet storm he couldn't predict or control. But he didn't need her. She could give him nothing he couldn't live without. There were other willing women in the world, women who wouldn't steal his very soul.

Liam walked away from the bed, tugging on his s.h.i.+rt. d.a.m.n her. She'd said she needed him, but that was another of Heaven's little jests. Mac didn't need anyone, let alone Liam O'Shea.

But even she had her secrets.

Liam abandoned his b.u.t.tons and went to the dresser against the wall. He examined the larger drawers one by one and found her pack pushed well into the back of the lowest.

Silently he pulled the pack from its hiding place and opened the toothed fasteninga”the zipper, as Mac had called ita”and searched among the exotic contents for the one thing he needed to find.

The flat package of paper and cardboard was still there. He unwrapped it with unsteady fingers and found the photograph. Exactly as he'd last seen it in the jungle, dog-eared and creased and faded.

He stared at the photograph until it became a blur of gray shapes. He trusted Bauer's honesty implicitly. Bauer had seen this photograph, untouched and pristine in its frame, in Perry's rooms only days ago.

Liam took great care in rewrapping the photograph. He replaced the pack in the drawer and slid it closed.

Still Mac slept. He finished with his s.h.i.+rt and put on his coat, watching her. He wanted to remember the way she was now, when there weren't any words between them.

Once he'd dealt with Perry he might or might not survive the consequences. It didn't matter. He couldn't make Caroline safe by marrying her, but he could be certain she didn't fall into the hands of a murderer and slave dealer.

And Mac he didn't have to worry about. Not brave, stubborn, crazy Mac.

His hand was on the doork.n.o.b when the first knock struck wood. He opened the door before the next could fall.

A nervous young man stood at the door, his gaze flicking from Liam past his shoulder into the room. Liam recognized him as one of Bauer's a.s.sistants, the boys he hired to run messages and do minor work for his detective business.

”Mr. O'Shea?” the boy said. ”Mr. Bauer said I might find you herea””

Liam wasn't surprised. There was very little Bauer didn't know or couldn't guessa”about his clients as well as those he investigated. ”He has a message for me?” Liam asked grimly.

”Yes.” The boy screwed up his face in concentration.

”He said that Mei Ling has been kidnapped by the tongs. Chen's already gone to rescue her. Mr. Bauer said to tell you it's probably a trap, and to warn youa””

But Liam was already moving. He cast a glance at Maca”who hadn't been awakened by the racket, thank G.o.da”and picked up his hat. ”I have something for you to deliver. Do you know the law offices of Gregg and Hern down Market Street?”

”Yes sir, buta””

Liam pulled two envelopes from his pocket and pressed them into the boy's hand. ”See that one of these gets to Mr. Hern, and the other to Bauer. Tell Bauer my final instructions are there, in case I'm not able to give them myself. My lawyers will see he's paid well for carrying them out.”

”But Mr. Bauer saida””

”You've done your job, boy. Now do mine.” He gave the messenger a generous tip to mollify him. ”If Bauer wants to know where I am, tell him I've gone to Chinatown. Go.”

The boy knew better than to argue again. The moment he was out of sight Liam turned for a last look at Mac.

She'd never seemed more beautiful to him.

But his weakness was past. Perry had set a trap for him, and he was going to walk right into it.

He closed the door with no sound at all.

Mac's bare feet hit the floor with a thump.

Five a.m., the electric clock on the mantel said. Five A.M., before dawn, and Liam was on his way to get himself killed.

He'd thought she was asleep, and that was the only good thing to be said about the situation. At least she knew where he was going. And she knew she was going to follow.

The air was cool on her skin as she stripped off her chemise. The cloth still smelled of Liam. She held it to her nose, memorizing his scent. The time out of time they'd shared was over, and no matter what happened today or in the days to come Mac knew they'd never get it back.

Her jeans and T-s.h.i.+rt, patches, holes, and all, were still packed away in the bottom of the wardrobe. They weren't going to last much longer, but she wasn't about to wear skirts into the fight that was sure to come. The b.u.t.ter-soft denim felt like heaven against her skina”familiar, safe, hers as nothing in this world could ever be. She put them on as she would put on armor, filling the pockets with all the courage she could find.

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