But instead of opening the book, she pushed the rocking chair with one foot and stared into the empty fireplace, remembering. Remembering how it felt to lie in the shelter of Liam’s arms in this very chair. Remembering how she’d confessed nearly everything to him, and he hadn’t judged her. Hadn’t condemned her.
Could she tell him the rest? Could she risk it? Could she build a relationship with him if she didn’t? And even if she could, he’d know the truth soon enough, and he’d never forgive her for deceiving him.
She rocked slowly until the light left, her thoughts in turmoil. She rocked until shadows crept around the rocking chair, the book still unopened in her lap.
The back door opened and Liam came inside. “You missed the sunset,” he told her quietly as he flicked on the overhead light, dispelling the shadows. “Why didn’t you come outside?”
“I needed to think.” About what, she wasn’t ready to tell him. “I needed to be alone.”
He nodded as a reflective expression settled over his face. “I’m that way sometimes, too,” he told her. “But I missed you.” He wasn’t saying it in a critical way, Cate knew. Just a statement of fact. He would have liked to share the sunset with her because he enjoyed her company. That was all. Even if no words were exchanged between them, her presence mattered to him.
He went to his duffel bag and pulled something out of it, then sat down at the kitchen table. She watched silently as he pulled his gun from its holster and placed it on the table in front of him. He removed the clip and the bullet in the chamber, then began taking the gun apart. Curious, she left the rocking chair and came to sit across from him.
He glanced up once, then turned his concentration back to what he was doing. He didn’t wait for her to ask, volunteering, “Just some regular maintenance on my SIG SAUER. Nothing to worry about.”
She propped one elbow on the table and leaned her cheek against her hand as she watched him take a small cloth and carefully wipe each part of his gun. Fascinated by his methodical movements. Then, apropos of nothing, and without looking at her, he said, “I wanted to ask you about what you said yesterday.”
She wrinkled her brow in a question, but she knew he couldn’t see it, so she asked, “When yesterday?”
“Right before Callahan showed up. When you called yourself a coward because you hadn’t killed Vishenko when you had the chance.”
She’d forgotten about that...but Liam hadn’t. And she could tell it was still bothering him. She hadn’t intended to tell him, but it was too late—she couldn’t unsay those words.
Liam put down the piece of his gun he was holding and looked at her, his deep brown eyes stern. But there was also something fierce in their depths. “You are not a coward,” he said now. “You hear me? You are not a coward.”
His unshakeable faith in her reverberated in her soul, but she honestly believed his faith was misplaced. “You don’t know,” she began, but he wouldn’t let her finish.
“I do know. You think because you couldn’t kill him in cold blood that makes you a coward? You’re so wrong, Cate. Totally wrong.”
“But I—”
“No,” he reiterated. “If you could kill him like that, it would make you the monster he is. But you’re not. You’re not a cold-blooded killer any more than I am, and you never will be. But that doesn’t mean you’re a coward. It means you have a conscience. It means you know right from wrong. And that’s a good thing, Cate. A wonderful thing.”
In the silence that followed Liam picked up the piece of his gun he’d put down and continued wiping it. Then he took the little bottle he’d pulled from the case in his duffel bag, applied a minute drop of oil from it and rubbed the oil into the metal.
“How many men have you killed?” Cate asked abruptly, surprising herself as much as him.
His hands stilled for a moment, then continued. “Three,” he said finally, not looking up from his task. “Three men who deserved to die.” He drew a deep breath and let it out long and slow, then said, “But it wasn’t something I planned. Just something I had to do.”
“Because you were the only one who could do it.”
His gaze met hers, his eyes very dark. Very grave. “Yeah. Something like that.”
“That’s what Alec said about Angelina. He said she killed a man who was trying to kill him. That she didn’t want to do it, but she had to...because she was the only one who could save him.”
“Alec told me about that.”
“I figured he had.” She thought for a moment. “How do you know, Liam? How do you know when you have to kill someone because it’s necessary...and you’re the only one who can do it?”