Here is the answer to all my problems. Get rid of Liam. Frame a transient who’ll have the street smarts to flee. Who had the street smarts not to give me her surname or her city of origin or any identifying information. Hell, I doubt her first name is even Daisy.
She will be fine. The same cannot be said for me.
I need to do this.
And I cannot.
That is the ugly and humiliating truth of it. I do not have the strength—or the stomach—to save myself. Not to frame Daisy, and not to kill Liam. I said I wasn’t a cast-iron sociopath, but I so badly need to be. And I cannot.
With his arms still around me, Liam starts backing into Daisy’s bedroom.
I dig in my heels. “Slow your roll there, Romeo. I’m in the midst of getting myself some very cheap labor, and I’m not having you scare the poor girl off.”
He sighs dramatically. Then he glances over. “After she does the work?”
I pat his arm. “Yes, after she does the work.”
“And what about getting you out of here while she does it?” he says, sobering. “My condo is big enough for two.”
I try not to tense as I kiss his cheek. “We’ll talk,” I say, and I lead him to my room.