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“I was working a job,” he grated.

This gave her pause. She opened her mouth, then closed it again.

“Delila was sleeping with my target. I’d accepted a contract, agreeing to bring my benefactor the bastard’s head. Delila was my one link to him. Why else do you think I’d spent so much time in a fancy-pants burlesque club.”

He could see it in the hurt darkening her eyes. She’d thought he was there for her.

She was quick to rally, flicking an inky tendril over her shoulder. “You expect me to believe your only option was to screw the information out of her?”

No, in fact. After Vivian had sunk her claws into him, he couldn’t get it up for the blonde. Instead of bedding the trollop, he’d ended up staking out her place, waiting for his target to make an appearance. All the while thinking of Vivian.

He forced a shrug. “It was just a job. You, me, the club. It didn’t mean anything.”

“All those evenings we spent together? I suppose that didn’t mean anything either?” She seemed to sober right before him, her glassy eyes hardening. “Alistair approached me once you’d left. I’ll admit my pride was injured. The mage saw an opportunity and took advantage. Wined me, dined me, showered me with gifts. He was powerful, sophisticated, and he wanted me. Desperately. The rest is history.”

She’d fallen for the mage because he was someone who could give her all the things Liam never could. Still couldn’t. He didn’t need to hear this. “I’m going to bed. You should do the same.”

“Yes, go,” she said, an imperious queen issuing orders. “Go home. Back to Howlers.”

He turned, saying in a deliberate fashion, “I’m going to bed, Viv.”

She eyed a disfigured hunk of porcelain on the mantle. “In two minutes, that clock will strike midnight. When that happens, you can consider your debt to me paid.”

Hold up. Debt paid? His stomach bottomed out. “What are you saying?”

She squared her shoulders, saying in a haughty voice, “Your services here are no longer needed. Go home, Liam.”

Fourteen

Vivian ignored her tightening throat,resurrecting that deadened part of her that had kept her sane all those years as Alistair’s captive. She schooled her face into a serene mask, looked Liam in the eyes, and became the Black Widow.

Showtime.

“What the hell, Vivian?” Liam snarled, face twisting with rage. “You call in your debt. Drag me here,” he began, his voice rising with every word, “lead me around by my dick, demand I protect you, then when things aren’t going your way, tell me to fuck off?” he shouted.

She lifted her chin, a queen appraising her subject.

Experience had taught her if she was to survive Alistair, she’d have to be ruthless. Emotionless. No vulnerabilities. Keep nothing he could use against her. These last few days had proven that much to her.

She was far from emotionless where Liam was concerned. She’d been a fool to demand two weeks of his time. To allow him into her life once more. And for what? To prove to herself that she was strong? That no one, not even Liam, had a hold on her? It was Alistair himself who had risen from the dead to teach her yet another lesson, showing her how wrong she’d been.

From the mantle, the clock chimed the hour. The first of twelve bells counted down the remaining seconds of Liam’s debt.

Liam asked, “What are you planning to do?”Clang. Eleven. “Dig a moat and raise the drawbridge? If you think that will work, you’re even more out of touch with reality than Dove.”Clang. Ten.

He threw out an arm. “This little fortress you’ve built around you?”Nine. “It’s all a bunch of smoke and mirrors. You’re not safe here.”Eight. “You don’t have to do this on your own.”Seven.

She hitched her shoulder, the casual motion forced.Six.“Why argue when I’m giving you what you wanted?”Five. “I’m allowing you to walk away as you did before. No ties, no responsibilities.”Four. “I thought you’d be happy. Eager to start your retirement.”

“Damn you.” He stormed to the door, then back, looking more like a cornered animal by the minute. “What game are you playing now?”Three. “You’ll need to explain the rules to me ’cause I’m sick and tired of trying to figure it out.”Two.

She straightened her spine. “No more games.”

One.

Tiny bells chimed a cheerful chorus.

She eyed the scorched clockface. “Midnight. You’re free.”