Текст книги "Vice"

Автор книги: Rosanna Leo

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She must have paled because Rod touched her arm. “Hey, you okay? Do you want me to stay with you?”

She forced down the lump in her throat. “No, thanks. But could you take over the group for a bit?”

He looked at her and her visitor. “Okay. But if you need me, just knock.” He disappeared into the meeting room and shut the door behind him.

Louis Callender extended his arms and smiled. “My Katie. It’s been a long time.”

She avoided her father’s touch and stepped back, not wanting to be anywhere close to him. “What do you want, Dad?”

The corners of his mouth fell down and he let his arms drop. Anyone who didn’t know him well would think he was devastated by her cold demeanor. She didn’t care. Her father was many things, first and foremost a consummate actor. He had to be in order to swindle everyone he knew. “Why do you assume I want something, Katie-bug?”

“Don’t call me that,” she snapped, fighting her swelling anger. “And I know you want something because it’s the only time you ever show your face. How did you find me anyway?”

He looked around the New Horizons hallway with a hint of contempt, as if he were standing in the middle of his own intervention. “You’re always here. Does it actually do you any good?”

“More than you ever did.”

He ran a hand through his still-thick, auburn hair. She had to hand it to her dad. He certainly looked the part of a con man. Despite his age, he appeared ten years younger. He’d been blessed with terrific genes. The crinkly eyes and handsome face no doubt served him well when he looked for wealthy girlfriends to finance his habits. “I can’t believe my only daughter would talk to me like that. Didn’t I raise you better?”

“You didn’t raise me at all. Now what do you want?”

He stared at her for a long time, assessing her mood, planning his attack like a military tactician. “It hurts me that we can’t get along, sweetheart.”

“It’s hard to get along with someone who only shows up every couple of years begging for handouts.”

“Katie…”

“Are you here to seek help for your addiction?”

“Don’t talk to me like I’m some sort of crack head. I don’t need help.” He paced the hall for a couple of tense moments. “Look, I made some mistakes. I borrowed some money from some very bad people recently.”

“And this affects me how?”

“They want their money, sweetheart. These are men who won’t take no for an answer. I just need a small loan.” Tears filled his eyes. God, he could summon them so easily. “I’m scared, Katie. I need your help.”

“I can’t believe this.” She put a hand over her dry mouth. “Actually, I do believe this.”

“You don’t wanna see anything bad happen to your old man, do you? I just need five grand, Katie-bug. That’s all. And then I promise you, I’ll start attending those meetings. I’ll get help. You have my word.”

“Five grand? What about the money I’ve been depositing into your account? You gamble it all away, without so much as a thank you, and now you want five thousand more? What makes you think I even have that much?” She realized her voice was rising with each word, and tried to lower it.

“You have that cushy singing job. I know Calvert pays you well.”

“I don’t have that job anymore, and you don’t know a thing about me.”

He took a step toward her, his tone now menacing and desperate. “I’m just asking for a loan. Raise the money. Ask your friends. Maybe they can help you. I’ll take anything. These guys…that whole busted kneecap thing isn’t just a cliché to them, you understand? Think you can get off your frickin high horse long enough to help me?” He raised a hand as if to strike her.

A lightning-hot wound lanced through her already scarred heart. Without a word she knocked on the door to the meeting room. Rod was there in an instant.

“I’m done out here.” Her friend put an arm around her shoulder and led her back inside.

Her father called out as the door was shut. “They’ll hurt me, Katie! It’ll be on your head!”

Kate let Rod handle the rest of the meeting while she sat by the refreshments table and held the same cup of coffee for an hour.

As she listened to the droning sounds of the meeting around her, she feared she was finally plummeting toward rock bottom.

And it scared the crap out of her.

Chapter Five

Rod took her back to her apartment that evening. She normally would have taken the bus, but tonight she didn’t want to set out on her own. She didn’t put it past her dad to try again.

Rod stopped in front of her white stucco building on West Flamingo. “You sure you don’t want to talk about your visitor? You keep telling us we shouldn’t keep things bottled inside.”

She looked around. There was no one in sight. “No, I’m okay. Thanks. You go. I know your shift at the hospital already started.” With a hug, she got out of the car and waved as he drove off.

Her unit was a cozy walk-up on the second floor and she couldn’t wait to get inside and have a long bath. When she reached her landing, she looked around, feeling a prickle of unease. She looked around but the street was quiet. In her cul-de-sac, one could almost forget the Vegas Strip was a short drive away. She fumbled for her keys, only to drop them. Cursing, she bent over to retrieve them, thinking that this was usually the point in a movie where the serial killer leaped out.

She stuck her key in the lock and breathed a sigh of relief, glad not to have had another confrontation with her father.

Once inside, she flicked on the living room light, illuminating the coral painted walls. Home.

Now she could lose her shit big time.

“No,” she told herself. “Hold it together. You’re better than this.”

She dropped her purse and picked up the TV remote, hoping she’d find a trashy program featuring characters more messed up than she was. After a few minutes of scrolling through the guide, she turned it off, disappointed. She put down the remote, remembered her father’s words, and tried not to cry.

Just as her hands began to shake, there was a loud knock on her door. She jumped, steadied herself and shuffled to the door. Pulling aside the little flap from the peephole, she looked outside.

Liam Doyle stood at her door.

“What the…?”

Her hands shook even harder now. She fumbled with the lock as if she’d forgotten how it worked before she managed to open it.

The pair stared at each other, neither one speaking. No sign of designer suits today. Instead, he wore faded jeans that hugged his lower half, a black T-shirt that emphasized his cut frame and scuffed cowboy boots.

She’d considered him devastating in a custom-made suit, but this outfit made him look like a bad boy gone country. She struggled to find her voice. “What are you doing here?”

“Well, hello to you, too, sugar. Can I come in?”

“Okay.” She stepped aside to let him in, noting how he seemed to fill the doorway as he passed. Still clinging to the door, she stared at his figure, entranced. He looked like another man altogether today, but still dead sexy. She blinked and tried to clear her head. “How did you find me?”

“Your number is listed, you know.”

She shut the door and leaned on it, hands behind her back so he wouldn’t see her tremble. “Why are you here, Liam?”

“I get questions instead of a ‘Hello, how are you?’”

“Hello, how are you? Why the fuck are you here?”

He stood very still, and his gaze rested on her strand of pearls. He moved his hand as if to reach out for her, but let it fall to his side. “I haven’t seen you at Vice. I was…concerned.”

“I thought you would be relieved.”

“Yeah, I know, but for some strange reason I was worried instead. So, um, why did you stop coming?”

“Does it matter?”

“Indulge my curiosity.”

Those three words, echoing in her brain, made her throat thicken. Indulge my curiosity. Somehow, the way he’d said the words, they’d sounded dirty. Surely her frazzled mind made her imagine the heat in his eyes.

She blinked and the heat disappeared like vapor. “I’m sure you have more important things to be curious about.”

He cracked a smile, the first since he’d shown up. “You know, I gotta tell you, Kate. You’re a shitty hostess.”

She couldn’t help but grin in return. “I’m sorry. I’m not really prepared. You see, I gave the butler the night off and I forgot to defrost the canapés.”

“You really do think I’m an evil, rich dickhead, don’t you? That I don’t have a soul?”

“Not evil. I think I glimpsed your soul when you talked about Michelle. The rich dickhead part is still true, though.”

“Is that why you didn’t come back? Because you felt sorry for me?

Kate said nothing.

“I don’t want your pity, Kate.”

“What do you want?”

The moments the words left her mouth, she regretted it. It was getting hard to rein in a desire that she didn’t even understand. Yes, she felt concern for him, but right now, all she knew was a near-feral need. His looks and deep voice and even his arrogance turned her crank in such a way she knew from now on she’d compare every other man to him.

Still, he drove her nuts.

Liam seemed to have trouble finding his words. “I’m still trying to understand what I want. You’re not making it easy for me.”

Okay, so clearly she drove him around the bend a bit too. “What does that mean?”

He drew closer until their feet just about touched. He reached for her hand and she almost leaned into him. Almost, but not quite.

“Goddamn, you ask a lot of questions,” he said. “It means I don’t know what to make of you.”

Liam’s gaze dropped and traveled a hot path from her head to her toes, and her body responded to the visual caress. Already her nipples pebbled under her light shirt. To her horror, she realized she was practically leaning in for a kiss. The thought of him claiming her mouth had her weak in the knees.

Just when she suspected he wanted the same thing, he took a step back, but did not release her hand. “Look, sometimes my job requires me to act like an asshole, but I shouldn’t have been one to you when you were being honest with me. I’m sorry.”

Kate had no explanation for the barrage of sensations Liam caused all over her. His sensual voice made her ears perk up. His touch made her skin feel luxurious, like a warm, soapy bath. He might be less put together tonight, but was still just as much a feast for her eyes. She wanted to run her fingers over his washboard abs and fondle each plane and hollow. His stubble seemed a little thicker, almost a beard, as if he hadn’t trimmed it in a couple of days, and served to make him look more like a rugged lumberjack rather than a captain of Vegas industry.

His masculine beauty affected her the way a newly-discovered Van Gogh might affect an art collector.

She removed her hand from his and ran a shaky hand over her face, trying to rein herself in. “You don’t owe me an apology. I butted in where I wasn’t wanted. And I’m the last person who should be giving anyone advice.” Oddly comforted in his presence, she let her shoulders droop and sighed.

Liam put a finger under her chin. “Hey, what’s wrong? Tell me.”

“You really don’t want to know.”

“If I didn’t, I wouldn’t ask. I’m a rich dickhead, remember?” He grinned and slowly removed his hand from her face.

“Okay. Fine.” She paused to collect her thoughts. “I’m even worse. I’m a fraud. I lecture others about hitting rock bottom, and the truth is I’ve never done it myself.” She looked up, expecting to see him judge her, but saw only a new heat in his blue eyes. “My dad’s an addict, and I’ve been enabling him for years. I can’t seem to stop. I’m scared to let him go cold turkey. I’m scared to stop giving him money. I’m scared. I’m just scared.”

Liam gazed at her for a time, then moved his hand back to her face, sliding his fingers over her cheek. She fought the urge to close her eyes and luxuriate in his touch. After what felt like forever, he smiled and spoke.

“Just because you’ve had trouble following your own advice doesn’t mean it’s not good advice. I was thinking about what you said, that I need to hit rock bottom. I figured I’d give it a shot tonight. Care to join me?”

Her heart leaped, and she nodded.

Liam spied the amused look on Kate’s face as they approached his truck. He opened the door to his old F150 for her. “What?”

“Nothing. I thought you were lying about the pick-up truck.”

“Would I lie about this beauty?” He patted the rusty exterior. “It might look like crap but it’s still a smooth ride. Another plus is the paparazzi expect me to drive a fancy car. When I’m in this thing, they don’t even see me.” She slid into the passenger seat and he leaned on the door. “What do you drive?”

“I don’t have my license.”

“How old are you?” he teased.

“Thirty.”

“Just a few years younger than me. You’re getting pretty ripe, woman. Time to get that learner’s permit.”

She grinned but her cheeks reddened. “I don’t drive because I have epilepsy.”

“Oh.” His face burned up as well. “Damn. I didn’t mean to…”

“Don’t worry about it.” She slapped her thigh in anticipation. “C’mon. Get in the car. Let’s go.”

He wondered about her condition. Were her seizures bad? How long had she suffered from them? Did she take medication? A million questions ran through his head, none of which were his business.

“Hey,” she said when he didn’t move. “Rock bottom’s not going to hit itself.”

“Right.” He shut the door and got in on the other side. As he started the engine, he noticed the way her denim-clad thighs looked next to his. Soft and round, tapering to an elegant knee. It was so tempting to reach over and run his fingers up her thigh. The thought gave him an immediate hard on, one he tried to disguise with an arm casually draped across his lap. Shit, he hadn’t come all this way to ogle Kate Callender’s legs or any other part of her for that matter. He’d come to get shit-faced with someone who understood his shame.

He peeled out of her neighborhood and headed for the Las Vegas Freeway, turning away from the Strip on W. Sahara Avenue. He wanted no flashing lights tonight, no reminders of who he was or where his obligations were. He wanted to be in a place that reminded him of his roots.

Once they were well on their way, Kate turned to him. “Where are we going?”

“A place I know called Franky’s.”

“Franky’s? Wait, I know that bar. It’s a total dive.”

Liam feigned horror. “Which makes it the best bar in town, even if it wasn’t run by my friend. Anyway, if it’s such a dive, how do you know it?”

“Like any professional singer, I’ve done my share of waitressing. One of my friends waitressed at Franky’s. I popped in once or twice.”

“I still can’t believe you’re a singer. So, do you wear a metal breastplate and horns on your head?”

She giggled. “No, I don’t sing opera. I sing torch songs. Piano-bar stuff.”

“Is that so?” Well, well. He still needed a crooner for Decadence. Maybe he could get her to sing for him. Too bad Franky didn’t offer karaoke so he could see what kind of skills she had. He’d never really been of the belief that the universe provided, but something had provided Kate.

“Any chance I’ve heard you somewhere?” he asked.

“Maybe. My one and only claim to fame is being the voice of Calvert’s Used Automobiles.”

“No shit? Those ads are so bad they’re good. You have a sexy singing voice, Kate.”

The roses on her cheeks made her few freckles pop. “Well, thanks, but you might not be hearing much of it in the future. I quit.”

“How come?”

“Let’s just say Mr. Calvert has busy hands and leave it at that.”

He turned, keeping his hands on the wheel, his eyes wide as he was hit with a strange combination of shock and anger. “Are you serious?”

“Yup. I’m officially out of a job.” She then threw him a smile. “Where do you think I got all this free time to bug you?”

“Ah, hell. Did you at least kick the bastard in the nuts?

“Actually, yeah.”

“Good. If you hadn’t, I would have offered up the services of some guys I know who’d be happy to do it for you.” No lie about it. Suddenly, he felt a strong desire to pummel that lemon-peddling shit Calvert.

She cocked an eyebrow. “No need for violence on my account. And anyway, I’m pretty capable in the nut-kicking department.”

“Well, tonight’s on me. I hope you can hold your liquor.”

“Do you always solve your problems with alcohol? You know that won’t work, right?”

“I know, but I’d like to forget one or two things for a while.”

“And how are we getting home afterward, Mr. Forgetful?”

Their banter made him smile. “Well, if we’re really successful at forgetting, I’ll call my driver. Franky won’t mind stowing my truck in his garage overnight. God knows no one will steal it. Don’t worry, I won’t abandon you.”

He could tell from her pensive expression she recalled their last conversation, all of it. “I could always take a bus,” she said. “I have before.”

“Not on my watch.” The idea of Kate waiting at a Vegas bus stop late at night was about the least appealing vision he could conjure up. It gave him a weird, nauseating stab in the gut, like it would end up as an episode of CSI someday.

It was time he admitted to himself that this woman fascinated him in a way he didn’t quite understand. From the moment she’d first set foot on the pavement near Vice, he hadn’t been able to wrestle her out of his head. Part of the reason he’d shown up at her door was the hope that spending an evening with Kate would allow him to see the real her. And that in getting to know her, he’d find something he disliked, and give himself a reason to stay away.

It wasn’t working. He did like her. A lot.

He wished he didn’t. He didn’t have time in his life for romance, or whatever foul desire plagued him. Romance, right. His inflated cock was all about romance right now. No doubt his cock wanted to order her some flowers and recite her some poetry, too.

No, he just wanted to sleep with her, and the slight hitch in her breath when she looked at him told him she wanted the same thing.

He stifled a laugh. As if she’d have him. He was pretty sure she still thought he had horns hidden under his hair somewhere.

They pulled in at Franky’s and parked near the back, right next to Franky’s Harley. While Kate gathered up her purse, he got out and opened her door for her. She put a foot on the ground and grasped his outstretched hand, eyes shimmering with a hint of disbelief. “No one opens doors for women anymore, do they?”

“I just did.”

“Noted.” She slid out of the car, her face still pink. “Crowd looks a little rough tonight. You sure about this?”

A couple of familiar bikers stood outside the front door, taking drags on their cigarettes. “I happen to like things a little rough.” He smiled and put a hand on the small of her back as he led her toward the entrance. She continued to tense as they reached the door, so he put her out of her misery. He called to the bikers. “Beck. Nolan. How’s it going?”

Nolan, a leather-clad bear of a man, smiled from behind his full beard . “Doyle, man. How’s the new place?”

“Awesome. You gonna ditch Franky one of these nights and come see it?”

The two of them laughed, as if leaving Franky’s was a physical impossibility. “Only if you promise to save me one of those pretty pink cocktails with the umbrellas,” Nolan crowed.

“People pay fifteen bucks for those pretty pink cocktails. Gotta give the customers what they want.” He turned to Kate. “Kate, these are my buddies Nolan and Beck.”

Kate didn’t seem to know how to react. “Um, nice to meet you?”

Beck, a handsome shit-disturber, reached for her hand and kissed it, lingering a little too long for Liam’s liking. “Honey, the pleasure’s all mine.” He grinned like he wanted to eat her up. “Doyle, where have you been hiding this sweet thing?”

Her giggle came out like a snort. “He hasn’t hidden me anywhere, but he probably wishes he could. I’ve been causing him trouble.” She turned at smiled at him, more comfortable with the situation now. “Isn’t that right, Liam?”

“Honey, whatever trouble you’re selling, I’m buying,” said Beck.

“Dream on,” Liam responded, getting a little annoyed by the man’s transparent interest. “You don’t have enough money for this kind of trouble.”

Liam marched her into the bar before Beck could make another play. He should have guessed that guy would try it on with her. He did with every other woman. Well, Kate deserved better than to be pawed over by a guy who needed a secretary to keep his girlfriends organized and away from each other.

He looked to her as he led her to the bar, curious about her reaction to Beck. She seemed to be hiding a grin. “Your friends are nice.”

“Oh, yeah. Real nice.” He rolled his eyes. “They even sing in the church choir. Come on. What’s your poison, gorgeous?”

“Gorgeous?” She laughed.

“You could try to look flattered.”

Still grinning, she scratched her head, a schoolgirl unsure of how to take a compliment. “Right. Beer’s fine.”

“A girl after my own heart.” He looked for Franky, but his buddy was probably stuck in the back room. In his absence, he ordered two Stellas from the bartender in charge, then led her to a quiet booth in back. She slid into one side of the booth.

He thought about sitting opposite her. He really did. But there was something about the way the bar lights hit the auburn strands in her hair that made him want to sit next to her. So he did, much to her surprise.

“What?” He tried to act as if it was no big deal. “The music’s loud. We won’t hear each other talk.”

She seemed to accept his excuse and smiled.

Liam realized seeing her smile felt good. Better than he’d expected. It made him strangely protective as well, especially when he remembered her epilepsy. “Are you okay with the flashing lights in here, you know, with your condition?”

“Yeah. Strobe lights don’t bother me. I take medication. Drinking alcohol is more of a trigger but I just won’t get carried away.” She took a ladylike sip and looked around the bar, her head bobbing to the music in the background. The usual band was in the house, knocking off an acoustic cover of “Welcome to the Jungle.”

They didn’t talk for a couple of minutes, but Liam caught her staring at him once or twice. Hell, she caught him doing the same thing. They both blushed like kids each time it happened.

He couldn’t remember the last time a woman had made him blush. Had he ever?

They laughed it off, and he asked her about her singing career. Pretty soon, they were talking comfortably, and somehow ended up on the topic of dating experiences gone wrong. He had to admit it pleased him to hear she was single. Before long, they were clinking bottles like old friends and teasing each other with good-natured pokes and jostles.

An hour later, she changed the subject. “So, aren’t we supposed to be hitting rock bottom? I don’t think it’s meant to be this much fun.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, dropping back to reality. “I guess I’m avoiding it.”

“So what does that mean to you? What’s your rock bottom? Calling off your lawyer?”

Shit. He wasn’t sure he was ready for that yet. All of a sudden, he didn’t want to focus on his own issues. “We’ll get to that. Tell me about your father first.”

Her smile ran from her face. “Do I have to?”

Liam looked her straight in the eye. “Rock bottom, remember? I’ll share mine if you share yours, group leader.” She still seemed hesitant so he prompted her. “Your dad gambles?”

She let out a long sigh. “Yeah. The only times I’ve seen him the past few years were when he showed up to ask for money.”

“So he’s not in your life at all?”

“I don’t think he ever was, not even when I lived under his roof. He’s obsessed. If he were here, he’d bet on which of us would finish our beers first. He’s sick and has no desire to get better.”

“You told me your friend’s husband gambles too.”

“That’s how Lisa and I met, at New Horizons. She was one of my first attendees. Donny is almost as bad as my dad. Neither of them will have a happy ending.”

“Thus, your protest.” He took a swig of beer, careful not to turn this into a blame game.

“Look,” she said, puffing out her cheeks. “I’m sorry I hassled you at your grand opening, but you have to understand where I’m coming from. A compulsive gambler is like a drug addict. They can’t stop. They don’t know how. So it’s up to those of us left behind to try to make sense of it all.

“My dad doesn’t want to change. He doesn’t think there’s anything wrong with him. He thinks the rest of the world is askew. I can’t change him, or the past, but maybe I can affect some small change in the world where he lives.” She stared at him, her brow furrowed with worry. “You seem like a decent person, Liam, but I won’t sit here and lie to you. I won’t pretend I like your line of work, because I don’t. I can’t. I’ve been hurt by it too many times.”

And here he wondered if she might sleep with him? He probably had a better chance with Beck outside. “And yet you give your dad more money so he never hits rock bottom?”

Her lip trembled in a way that made him want to put his arm around her. And, though he hated to admit it, it also made his pants feel tight. “I know, and that’s why I’m a fraud,” she said. “I shouldn’t be leading those meetings. My friends would be so disappointed if they knew the truth.”

He put down his beer and reached for her hand, wanting to make her feel better. Damn, her skin was soft. Surely it was no different than another woman’s, but for some reason it felt like velvet in his hands. “Last I checked, you weren’t nominated for a sainthood, so don’t worry if the halo doesn’t fit. Maybe you should stop worrying about helping your friends, and concentrate on helping yourself.”

“I don’t know how.”

“Yes, you do, Kate. You’ve always known. Stop giving your father money. He has to hit his lowest point before he can get better.”

“The problem is, I’m afraid his rock bottom will only come with him at a cemetery. He should have hit his lowest point years ago.”

He brushed a hand against her cheek. “Why do you say that?”

She looked at him, her eyes now brimming with tears. “My mother died because of him. If he didn’t hit rock bottom over that, he won’t change just because I cut him off.”

He caught one of her tears as it trailed her cheek. “How did she die?”

“She killed herself.”

Fuck. Maybe the beer had rendered him overly sympathetic, but out of nowhere waves of sorrow began to wash over Liam, making him feel as if he were drowning in a vast ocean. “Oh, Jesus, Kate. I’m so sorry.” He gathered her into his arms and held her. She didn’t fight back and laid her head against his chest. It felt right there. He ran a hand over her soft hair, gathering her ponytail into his hand and fingering the silky mane.

“It happened ten years ago, but it feels like last week. She’d put up with my dad’s gambling since I was a kid, had begged him to stop until she was hoarse. When I was at college, he lost everything, cleared out my mom’s accounts, threw it all away. She’d begged so many bank managers for leniency, had borrowed so much money from family members and friends. The shame was just too much. She took a bunch of painkillers one night, and left a note saying she wanted it all to go away.”

Kate’s shoulders trembled in his arms. “And you know what he said to me when he found out? He said, ‘Katie-bug, I can’t believe she’d do such a thing after all the good years I gave her.’”

Liam said nothing. What could you say to that?

“I still feel sick when I think about it. Right after he said it, I must have spent the next hour crouched over the toilet. I puked my guts up every night for a week afterward. And my dad just kept on betting. He didn’t even come to the funeral. It made my skin crawl, to see him so diseased.”

“I don’t blame you.”

“I just couldn’t look him in the face anymore. My mom supported him their whole married life. She dug him out of every hole. And when he’d finally broken her, he still didn’t snap out of it. I don’t want my friend Lisa to end up the same way.”

“I’m sure she won’t. She has you.”

“My mom had me, too.” She let out a bitter laugh and swallowed back a huge gulp of beer. “What good am I? Lisa says she admires me, but she has no idea I still enable my dad.”

He grasped her by the shoulders. “Then justify Lisa’s faith in you. Right here. Right now.”

She blinked away a few more tears. She reached inside her handbag and produced a bank card and a small pair of craft scissors. “This card is how I leave him money. Will you cut up the card for me?”

“No. But I’ll hold it while you cut it up.”

She gazed at him, unsure. Liam offered her an encouraging grin and held the card out for her.

“Go on, Kate.”

With a nod, she positioned the scissors and cut straight through the plastic. Half of the card dropped on the table with an anticlimactic tap. Liam picked it up and she did it again to both halves.

She looked up at him as she put the scissors back in her bag, pale, but clearly relieved. Like the weight of the world, or at least a good sized chunk of it, had been taken of her shoulders.

“I’m proud of you.”

“I’ve been carrying those damn scissors around for months, trying to get up the courage.” She let out a quiet but shaky laugh. “I don’t think I could have done it without your help.”

His chest swelled with pride at that. He couldn’t have felt better if he’d discovered fire. “This calls for another beer.”

She smiled. “I’d like that. But you’d better make mine a cranberry juice. I’ve had enough excitement for one evening.”

As he motioned for the waitress, his gaze still locked on Kate, he was determined to give her a lot more excitement. Just not the card-cutting kind.

Kate stood in the ladies’ bathroom at Franky’s while Liam took care of their order. As much as possible, she cleaned up her mascara smudges with a wet tissue. She still had the chopped-up bits of bank card in her jeans pocket. Before she lost her nerve, she walked into one of the stalls, dug them out and dropped the plastic chunks into the toilet, flushing for good measure.

No way she could fish them out in a moment of weakness now.

Only she didn’t feel weak anymore. She felt like freaking Wonder Woman. Liam Doyle had helped her surmount her greatest fear. That had to go in the dictionary under the definition of ironic. In cutting up her card, her plastic crutch, she felt as if her last connection to her dad had been severed, and the ever-present ball of tension in her shoulders seemed to have rolled away.