“Good.” Liam threw his hands up in the universal sign of time-out, and once Eli came out of his fighting stance, Liam sized the Scot up. “Get in here, McDane.”
Aiden climbed between the ropes and drew himself up into a fighting stance, his muscles taut and ready. Ghosts danced in his eyes today, as they did sometimes when nightmares gripped his sleep. Liam shifted to more secure footing in case Aiden lost it and decided to take his head off literally.
It was a good thing Liam was prepared, because Aiden’s first haymaker rushed in so quickly that, despite dancing out of range, Liam felt the air from it along his cheek.
“Careful, mate,” Eli murmured to Liam.
Yeah. No shit. Liam moved defensively around the ring, baiting Aiden into getting his energy out, then, when an opening finally came, swept the Scot’s legs out from under him.
“Aich, fuck me,” Aiden cursed, landing hard.
Liam extended his hand and was glad to see the other man take it. It wasn’t one of his worst days, then. Good days were increasingly rare, though. It made Liam worried as hell—especially because of how helpless he felt. Aiden didn’t want to talk to him. To anyone. And the last time someone pushed too hard, he’d gathered his stuff and moved to a different continent.
Aiden wasn’t Liam’s only worry, though, and the moment his mind had a millimeter of leeway to think, Liam was back to stewing over Jaz. And Patti. He and Jaz had been back from California for three days now. Sleeping in different rooms. Going about their business with every courtesy. Hell, he even trusted Jaz with the temp security team he put on her so he could come here and work out.
Liam hated every moment of it.
As if, somewhere in the mountains, he’d imprinted on Jaz’s scent and warmth and couldn’t sleep without her small body breathing softly against his. He’d slept so poorly these past few days, he wouldn’t be surprised if he looked no better than Aiden did.
They exchanged another round of blows, then Liam rested while Aiden and Eli took a turn against each other before climbing into the ring with the Brit again. A very talkative Brit.
“So.” Eli dropped low and went for a tackle this time, the two hitting the mat together as each vied for the stronger position. “You. Jaz. One tent. You know Kyan is going to kill you if things got creative out there, right?”
Liam rolled on top of Eli and straddled him. “Nothing creative. And if it had, it wouldn’t be any of your—or Kyan’s—business.”
“What isn’t any of my business?” Kyan asked from the doorway. He was dressed in street clothes, his gym bag hanging over his shoulder—and for a cowardly moment, Liam hoped he could use the logistics to slink away from a conversation. Running. That was another thing he’d never done in his life, but talking about Jaz with Kyan was going to tax every fiber of his self-control. The thought of lying to one of his best friends made bile rise in Liam’s throat, but telling Kyan the truth would be much worse.
“Liam claims it’s none of our business how he and Jaz spent a week together in close quarters,” Eli, the asshole, called out despite his precarious position.
Liam’s heart crashed against his ribs, his body bracing for the inevitable questions. The inevitable lies he’d have to tell. He hated Eli just then. And hated him even more when Eli’s gaze caught his own and flinched suddenly, as if Eli had read the truth in Liam’s eyes.
Kyan however, just barked a laugh. “Nice try, you wanker, but there is no one I’d trust with Jaz more. Rowen wouldn’t take advantage of my sister.” He pulled his gloves from the bag. “Plus, Jaz knows Liam’s preferences, and she’d castrate him if he tried anything. Right, Rowen?”
Liam punched Eli before letting the man up.
“The sprite is too nosy for her own good, so yeah, she knows,” Liam told Kyan. He was going to say something different, but realized at the last heartbeat that he couldn’t lie to one of his best friends. Which didn’t mean he was in a confessional mood either. “She also knows her own mind these days. Sebastian getting hurt hit her hard, though.”
Kyan’s face turned serious. “I appreciate what you did, Rowen, taking her partner’s place for the challenge. It would have crushed her to forfeit. I know you two don’t see eye to eye much, and what you did—I owe you.”
At the side of the ring, Eli suddenly found the Velcro of his sparring gloves endlessly fascinating.
Liam’s jaw tightened. “Speaking of work, McDane and I have some. Can you and Mason lock up when you’re done?”
Trident Rescue and Security took up the whole fourth floor of an office building several blocks away from Liam’s residence. The main operations center, which functioned as a twenty-four-hour monitoring station, had its screens tuned to different channels—everything from major network news to the more proprietary channels they had installed. Liam nodded to the pair of techs on duty and continued with Aiden to conference room Delta.
Monitors covered a wall of this room as well, muted footage of Al-Jazeera playing opposite CNN. From habit, Liam went over to the main computer and flipped through the log for a quick top-line update. Seeing nothing of immediate interest, he locked out the screen and turned to Aiden. “So, Roman Robillard and his sidekick Devante.”
“The DA wants to charge Devante with assault,” Aiden offered.
“Assault? How about attempted fucking murder?”
“They would, but the pesky thing about evidence is getting in the way.” Aiden slid a file across the polished table. “I tracked down the drunks who went after Jaz—at least I think I did, since they dinna seem to clear on their own names, much less anyone else’s. They got fifty bucks to rough up a girl matching Jaz’s description. Were promised another fifty if they hurt her hand. But then they saw a purse and figured it had more than a fifty inside.”
Liam had expected as much, but he still didn’t like hearing it.
“Also found Roman,” Aiden continues. “But he claims he knows nothing about Devante’s antics.”
Liam snorted. “Of course not.”
“For whatever it’s worth, I think Devante got in over his head. He’s too petrified for his own future to cause any more trouble. A bit of good news there.” Aiden took out another file from a cabinet, but instead of sliding it across the table, left it beside himself and tapped the top. “Been digging into the lass like you asked. But listen, mate, this steps over the line privacywise. You sure you wanna look at the file?”
“Safety trumps privacy.”
“Aye.” Aiden still kept his finger atop the file. “But if you two don’t dislike each other quite as much as Kyan believes, you may wish to rethink your approach.”
Liam’s hand tightened on the table edge. “Don’t play matchmaker with me, McDane. I don’t do relationships. Now either give me the goddamn results, or else I’m going to see if there isn’t some penguin in Antarctica who needs a new security system.”
“All right.” Aiden slid the file over, and raised his hands in surrender. “You’re not gonna fancy what I found, though.”
Liam pulled open the file jacket and flipped past the basic biodata until his attention got snagged by the numbers on Jaz’s financials. Here, he found three separate bank accounts that the woman held—the total balances of which hovered just above zero.