Concerto (North Security 2)

“I could protect you.”

My throat feels tight. “So you didn’t know my father? Not really?”

“I knew of him. That was enough for me. The rest doesn’t matter.”

“Of course it matters,” I say, frustrated that he can still pretend this isn’t everything. “It’s the whole reason you took me in. The reason you turned your life upside down.”

“You’re safe now, child.”

The word child makes me rankle with the desire to refute him. But he’s sitting on the edge of my twin-size bed, wearing a tux while I’m in jammies. I can’t refute anything. He bends to kiss my forehead, and I push him away with a glare. I don’t want a chaste kiss on my forehead. I won’t accept it.

He frowns. “What exactly did Josh say to you tonight?”

“He said you believe you can’t love anyone. Is that true?”

“I suppose it is,” Liam says, sounding unnaturally calm about it. As if it doesn’t bother him to miss out on such a thing. “I care for you, though. Is that what you’re worried about?”

I sit up in bed. “Tell me something. If you weren’t friends with my father, how did you even know that his daughter was orphaned? Was there some kind of mass e-mail to people in the intelligence sector? A post in a secret Facebook group? Lost little girl needs a strong and seriously grumpy man to become her guardian.”

I’m panting by the time I’m done talking. It’s not only myself that I’m fighting for right now—it’s him. It’s us. And I’m willing to tear down every construct of our guardian-ward relationship to do it.

Unfortunately he doesn’t seem to understand the severity of the situation. His lip twitches as if he’s holding back a laugh. “Seriously grumpy man?”

“You’re like a bear who’s been woken up from hibernation.”

“Maybe,” he allows. “But I have a reason to be concerned about you.”

“That’s why you freaked out about us going to the club?”

“Well, that and the fact that you’re not eighteen yet. Where did you get fake IDs?”

“Look… I have to tell you something about the club.” Nighttime is made for confidences, and I have the irrepressible urge to confide in him. Maybe it will become my downfall, trusting Liam. I have to try. “That man—”

“Criminal,” Liam corrects gently.

“It wasn’t random that I met him there. I went there to find him, so that I could—”

“I know exactly why you went there.”

My mouth snaps shut. “Excuse me?”

“You obviously were looking to lose your virginity.”

Shock steals my breath, so I can only stare

at him in bewildered horror. After a moment I’m suffused with outrage. “And what makes you so sure about that?”

“I understand,” he says, with what appears to be sympathy. “You’re clearly experiencing a spike in hormones. Maybe even still suffering from some late stage puberty.”

I stare at him in undiluted horror. I’m over here thinking about love and sex, about protecting my friend, about a new beginning. And he thinks I’m having hormones.

“Samantha,” he says gently.

“No, you’re probably right. Hormones. Puberty.”

“It’s nothing to be embarrassed about.”

I’m embarrassed and horrified and most of all, so sad I could cry. Tears prick my eyes. Anger rushes through my veins in a heavy beat. Maybe I actually am experiencing hormones, but that doesn’t mean what I feel for him isn’t real. “Good night.”