Liam's Witness Protection (Man on a Mission 4)

She stayed like that for a minute, then opened her eyes and stared at him. Dazed. Confused. “Why did you do that?” she asked in a breathless whisper. “Why did you kiss me that way?”

“Because you smiled at me like a woman who wanted to be kissed.” He drew a deep breath. “Tell me you wanted me to kiss you, Cate. If it’s the truth, please tell me.”

“Yes,” she said, her face and her voice betraying just how much the truth surprised her. “Yes. I wanted you to kiss me.”

Chapter 12

They were almost completely drenched by the time they made their way back to the cabin, but the late summer sun was so warm—even that far up on the mountain—they were still comfortable.

Cate wanted to let Liam shower and change first, but he refused. “I’m okay. You go ahead,” he said, pushing her gently in the direction of the bathroom, “and I’ll make some lunch for us.”

She grabbed clean, dry clothes from her suitcase and hurried into the bathroom, wanting to be quick so Liam wouldn’t have to stand around in damp clothes too long. She stripped out of her sodden clothing, then stepped under the warm spray. Only then did she realize she’d been colder than she thought, and the warm shower was welcome. She combed out her damp hair afterward and pinned it back, then stared at herself in the mirror for a minute—at a stranger. This woman was young and almost giddy—with a smile she didn’t recognize. A smile that reflected the torch inside her.

Liam had done this to her. Liam had turned her into a stranger to herself. A woman who smiled easily and laughed at the absurdities of life. A woman who could have fun doing simple things. A woman she wanted to be...for him.

Then her smile faded. She wanted to be that woman for Liam...but she couldn’t be. Because her past would never let her be that woman. Never.

* * *

Liam woke when Cate cried out in her sleep. And he knew the nightmare had come again. This time, though, when he turned on the light, called her name and touched her arm to wake her, she didn’t fight him off. But her whole body was trembling uncontrollably, just as it had last night.

And just as he’d done last night, Liam picked her up and carried her to the rocking chair. Cradling her in his arms and rocking until she stopped shaking. He stared sightlessly at the shadowed recesses of the room, his eyes burning with the tears he was crying inside for what she’d suffered...and was still suffering. When she finally lay quiescent against him, he found the strength to overcome his mindless anger at the man who’d instilled this fear in her and said as gently as he could, “Tell me, Cate.”

Her little whimper of pain was a dagger in his heart. “I...can’t,” she breathed in a broken, nearly soundless whisper.

“Yes, you can,” he reassured her. “You can tell me anything. Don’t you know that by now?” His voice dropped a notch. “Tell me. Whatever it is, it’s holding you prisoner now just as much as he held you prisoner then. Tell me and you can let it go. Tell me and the power those memories have over you will fade.” He brushed his lips against her forehead in a nonsexual kiss. “Tell me, Cate.”

It all came spilling out. Halting, choked sentences. Heartbreaking whispers. She clutched his T-shirt with one desperate hand as words of agony beyond anything he could have imagined poured out of her. And through it all he kept the rocking chair moving. Moving. Letting the repetitive motion soothe and comfort her the way it would a child.

Forever later she came to the end of her story, but still they rocked. His arms were tight bands around her, as if he could shelter her that way from every terrible moment she’d endured. But he knew it was far and away too late for that. All he could do was hold her now. Shelter her now.

Her breath fluttered in her throat in the silence that followed her confession. Liam wanted to say something—anything—to break that weighty silence, but no words came to him at first. Then he realized what he needed to say. What she needed to hear. “The past is the past, Cate. Let it go. Just let it go.” Her grasp on his T-shirt tightened, and she murmured something he couldn’t hear. “What did you say?”

“I’m trying,” she breathed, loud enough for him to hear this time. “I’ve been trying for seven years. But I—”

He shook his head. “No, you haven’t. You haven’t been trying to relinquish the past. You’ve been trying to outrun it, and that won’t work. The past will always catch up with you if you try to outrun it. You’ve got to just let it go.”

Her voice was very small when she said, “I don’t know how.”