“I need to know,” I say, pushing him. I don’t know why; I know what happened, but for some reason I need him to say it out loud. I need him to say it to my face.
He sits up straight before letting the words out. “I killed some, but I mostly just badly injured them.”
There’s a silence between us as we both digest this information and wait for the other to reply. Thinking about him killing and hurting those people makes me…sad, not because of him killing them, but because he seems genuinely upset that he had to. I suspected he had done it after seeing the scene before my eyes, but hearing it from him is different.
Would he have told me had I not asked point blank? No, probably not.
“Are you okay?”
His head pops up, and he looks startled by the question. “Am I okay?” He scoffs. “The real question is, are you okay?”
I think about my answer before I give it. I am okay. Does that make me a bad person? I’m not sure. “I’m okay.”
“How?” he says, looking straight into my eyes, his brimming with worry. Is he worried that I’m crazy? Or is his worry more about me being okay with him being a murderer?
“I guess…it was them or me, right?” I ask the question, but it’s one I don’t expect an answer to. “If you hadn’t come, they would’ve killed me. They were planning on killing me, Liam. They said it right in front of me. So…I guess I’m selfish because I’m grateful that I’m the one who made it out alive.”
“You’re an innocent,” he replies. “You’d only need to feel guilty if you were guilty of something. You’re not selfish, Mo.” He looks like he wants to say something more but holds himself back. “Come on, we gotta get you cleaned up.”
“Ow.” I try my best to not grimace at the pain. “Ow. Ow. Liam, ow.”
“I’m sorry,” he replies, lightly dabbing the cut on my nose. It seems Mr. Wannabe-Russian-Mafia had a sizeable ring that sliced through a good portion of my nose. So, while I’m lucky he didn’t make it crooked, there is still a good chance I’ll have a scar there. “That should do it.”
He pauses, checking over every inch of my face, and my breath catches in my throat. Maybe I’m a glutton for punishment, but I wish, not for the first time, that we were just normal people, that we could act on the tension that seems to always pulse between the two of us. I pull away first, remembering how we ended up here in the first place.
I thank him and immediately move into the dining area of the hotel room. It’s really just a table and chairs, but my entire attention is on the tray of food sitting there. My stomach rumbles with anticipation as I pull off one of the silver covers to reveal a cheeseburger and fries. Yes, please.
“Hold on,” Liam says, replacing the cover. I frown immediately and prepare a valid argument as to why I want—no, deserve the cheeseburger and fries. “You need to try something lighter. If you can handle that, then you get the good stuff.” He reaches for another cover, revealing a soup that resembles chicken stock, and I sit down with a huff.
I’m sure he’s right. I haven’t eaten in far too long and my stomach would probably revolt at the intrusion of heavy food, but the fries…
“So, what’s the plan now?” I ask, gently spooning broth into my mouth. I drip a little onto the hotel robe and stare at the drop of soup on the fabric like it personally insulted me. My hand-eye coordination really needs work.
“The plan…well, I’ve got to find Anton again. It seems he has many hiding spots around the city, but he won’t be able to stay hidden. I’ll find him.”
“He wasn’t there?” I ask, remembering that I didn’t see him in the massacre, though I didn’t really get a close-up look at any of their faces.
“No.” He sighs. “He was gone before I could get there.”
“So where else can we look?” I ask, eating more broth and eagerly awaiting hearing how I will be included in his plans.
“I—” He’s cut off by the sound of knocking on the door. I wait where I am as Liam grabs his gun and checks it before walking to the door. He looks through the peephole and lets out a breath of frustration before he grasps the handle, and he must deem it safe because he opens it without bothering to raise his weapon. I stare in shock as Agent Dimples walks through the door.
“Hello, Margaret.”