And that’s a friendship I could never possibly replace.
Chapter Nine
Liya
A familiar patch of blond hair bobs through the crowd toward us. Mr. Austin strolls calmly forward with tight features, but his eyes glisten with emotions. I know what he’s feeling. It’s probably similar to what I experienced yesterday in the foyer. Triumphant relief and fear lace my gut.
It makes me nauseous. But I hold it back.
Willow trembles while extending her arms. “Dad!”
“Bug!”
They crash together. Willow hugs her father like she hasn’t seen him in years. Mr. Austin’s face grows redder by the second as he swallows repeatedly. He’s tall and stiff, but he’s clearly fighting a litany of reactions. One of them is probably screaming.
That must be why his face looks like a strawberry.
Life resumes around us, as if I’m not returning Willow to her father after she spent the night in the hands of a sick and twisted mob boss. The crowd swarms around us like minnows—some move toward the stairs while others clog the platforms. A whistling screech erupts as the train comes to a steady halt.
It’s hotter than hell down here. And this beanie is not making it easier to deal with the heat.
Mr. Austin drifts back from his daughter and holds her face. He wipes her tears. He stares into her eyes like he’s shocked to see her—but relieved as well. His gaze is tender and warm.
But the affection dies when he turns to me.
He tightens his lips together, nods, and wraps an arm around Willow. I don’t miss the way he tugs her away from me. He nods. “Liya.”
“My word is my bond,” I tell him. “I told you I would return her, and I did.”
Some of the irritation fades. He glances at Willow, sighs, and then turns back to me. “So you did.”
“If you happen to run into any trouble, any at all,” I tell them. “Let me know. I don’t care how innocent it might seem. Just tell me.”
Mr. Austin begins to speak, but Willow cuts him off. “We appreciate it, Liya. Thank you so much.”
She wraps me in a loving hug. The way she sighs into me tells me everything I need to know.
Shestilltrusts me.
I burrow my face into her shoulder as gently as I can. “I mean it. If you think someone is following you, give me a call.”
“You’ll be the first to know.”
“This isn’t over. Not by a long shot,” I whisper. “Just be careful about where you go and what you do.”
She nods. “I think after we leave, I’m taking a long, hot bath and locking myself in my dad’s house for a week.”
“That’s probably for the best.”
She releases me and steps back. “Ifyouneed anything—” Her gaze flickers to her father and then back to me. She smiles. “Call.”
Mr. Austin looks perturbed by the offer. The muscles of his face pull taut while he observes me. But when he looks at Willow, he hardly holds a trace of anger.
And I don’t blame him. If my daughter had been taken and nearly sold to a disgusting pervert on the black market, I’d be pissed off too.
My hand sweeps over my stomach.I hope we never have to deal with that.
I drop my hand to my pocket, trying not to look or act pregnant. Don’t draw attention. That’s the deal.