Liam: Branded Brothers Page 8

  “We ask around to see if anyone knows where he lives or if they have his number,” he said with a smile. “And there’s only one place I can think of going.”

  “Green Insurance Agency?” she asked with a hopeful look.

  He shook his head and pointed to The Paradise Club. “Something tells me that the people inside that place might have a better idea of who Ronan is and where he might be.”

  “As long as I get a lap dance, I’m in,” she said. Liam raised his eyebrows and opened his mouth to reply, but Charla beat him to it. “I’m totally kidding.”

  “Well, you would have experienced something I never have,” he said as he walked past the boarded up window and grabbed the handle.

  “Are you for real?” she asked as she walked through the open door. “I find that highly unlikely.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” He laughed behind her as they walked into the pink neon glow and low music of the Paradise Club. Charla squinted, trying to make out the surroundings as her eyes adjusted to the darkness.

  “Ladies are free.” A burly bald man announced at the entrance.

  Liam handed him a ten and gave Charla a smile. “You’re a cheap date.”

  “You call this is a date?” Her eyes widened.

  “Of course not,” he replied. “Our first date will look nothing like this. I already have something in mind.”

  Charla’s heart fluttered. He was definitely making it hard to avoid that last item on her list.

  “Over here.” He guided her to the empty bar with his hand on the small of her back. They slid onto stools next to each other. She saw a cluster of heads near a bare stage and gold pole. There were more people here than she expected on a Wednesday afternoon.

  “How can I help you?” A woman popped out from behind the counter wearing a glittery gold bra and tiny black shorts. Her blonde hair was long and loose, falling over her shoulders. She leaned across the counter at the sight of Liam, pressing her breasts together.

  Clearly one of the girls.

  “A Guinness and cranberry vodka for my girlfriend,” Liam replied without missing a beat.

  The woman shot a look of disdain at Charla and then straightened up. Her voice was suddenly more casual. “You got it.”

  “Girlfriend?” Charla whispered, eyeing him.

  “Whatever gets her off my back and out of my wallet.” He winked at her before pointing to the stage. “Looks like we’re just in time for a show.”

  A blonde woman wearing nothing but a man’s collared shirt, tie, and top hat seductively walked out on the stage. She twirled a cane in her hand as she stopped near the men cheering beneath her. A loud whistle erupted as she passed it between her legs. She tipped her hat toward the men before taking it off and then tossing it at them. Then she whipped her blonde hair in a circle before moving toward the pole.

  “I’ll be sure to take notes.” Charla squinted, studying the face of the stripper on stage. There was something about her that looked vaguely familiar. Charla’s attention was pulled back to the bar when the bartender slid their drinks in front of them. She looked back at the face of the bartender and her flowing blonde hair, which reassembled the stripper on stage. Apparently, all blonde strippers looked the same.

  Liam smiled before taking a gulp of his Guinness. Then he called down to the bartender who had walked to the other side to watch her co-worker on stage. “What do you know about the tattoo parlor next door?”

  She pulled her eyes back to Liam and walked toward them. “You mean Ronan’s place?”

  “Yeah, Ronan’s place. What do you know about Ronan?” Liam asked.

  “Who’s asking?” The bartender leaned against the counter and snapped her gum. “You looking for trouble? Because if you are, you ain’t going to find anything here. I know nothin’.” She looked up toward the bouncer at the door. Charla swiveled around to see the burly man with his arms folded across his chest.

  “Not at all,” Charla jumped in. “I want to get a tattoo, but his shop is closed.”

  “You want a tattoo?” she asked, eyeing her up with her hands on her hips.

  “Yeah, a footprint near my hip. My dad just died, and I want to get something to remember him by. We were walking on the beach one day when I was little, and he pointed to the two set of footprints we had left in the sand. He told me there would always be footprints next to mine because he would always be there for me. And if I ever saw just one set of footprints, it would be the time he’d carried me.” Charla finished softly, trying to ignore the stripper on stage who was now rubbing the tie between her legs.

  “Oh, I’m so sorry. That’s so sweet.” The bartender put her hand over her heart. “Ronan’s shop is closed because he’s down at the track. He closes up early because he races every Wednesday night. Car number four.”

  “Oh,” Charla replied, leaving it open-ended in hopes the bartender would bite.

  “It’s just a mile south of here,” she offered. “But he’ll be back in the morning. He’ll be able to help you. He’s amazing. Look what we did for me. Covered up my scar.” She flipped down her bra to expose a small heart near her right nipple. “Isn’t it great?”

  “Sure is.” Liam smiled as Charla hit him in the leg.

  “Well, thanks,” Charla said. “I’ll definitely be working with him then.”

  “No problem. Just let me know if you need anything else,” she replied before she turned her attention to a man just a few feet from Charla.

  “Well, look at you,” Liam said, tilting his bottle toward her. “I should bring you along when I’m searching for my bail jumpers. You’d find them in no time. Good story by the way.”

  “Thanks.” Charla tipped back her drink and polished off the rest of it. “It’s actually a religious story about Jesus.”

  “You religious?”

  “Not really, but it helps a lot of people get through tough times in the hospital. You?”

  “Catholic.”

  “Surprised you didn’t hear that one before.” She twirled the empty glass in her hand.

  “Guess I should have paid closer attention in church.” He shrugged his shoulders.

  “Another Miller.” The man beside Charla said to the bartender.

  Charla froze, still grasping the glass. She’d recognize that voice anywhere. After all, she’d heard it every day for three years. She closed her eyes and thought of the last vision she’d seen of him. It was with the blonde. The blonde. That’s where she knew the stripper. Rex was here watching his girlfriend or whoever she was. She swiveled in her seat to see Rex sitting a few feet from her. His eyes met hers.

  “Charla?” He sputtered with a shocked look on his face.

  “Rex,” she replied, looking back at the second most hated person in her life. Both him and my mother in the same damn day. She slid her glass across the counter, but this time, she didn’t try to force a smile. She didn’t have anything to say to him. She wasn’t about to kill this asshole with kindness. She learned her lesson this morning.

  “I didn’t expect to see you here,” he said.

  “That’s what you said the last time I saw you,” she muttered, wondering what future employers would think of his stripper girlfriend. She thought about all the “late night” study sessions he complained about. They had become more frequent right before she had caught him. She guessed studying the blonde at Paradise Club must have been grueling. Charla wanted to lay into him, but he wasn’t worth the energy.

  “How are you, Charla?” Rex asked.

  “Good. Real good.” She nodded her head and clenched her fists beneath the counter. She hated that seeing Rex made her feel this way.

  “You move back to Hudson?”

  “No,” she replied shortly. “You done with medical school?”

  “Dropped out.”

  Satisfaction curled around her body. At least there wasn’t going to be a Dr. Rex anymore. She unclenched her fists. “That’s too bad.”

  “Yeah, things didn’t
exactly work out how I thought they would.” Rex’s words hung in the air as the naked blonde grinded on the stage behind him.

  “That’s too bad,” Charla said to Rex before turning to Liam. “Let’s go.”

  “That’s him? That’s your ex-fiancé?” Liam whispered.

  “Yes,” she whispered back. “Like I said, let’s go.”

  Liam threw some bills on the counter and jumped out of the stool, wrapping his arm around Charla. He lifted her gently out of the stool and turned her chin toward him. He leaned in and suddenly pressed his lips against hers in a hot, passionate kiss. He held the back of her neck and leaned her against the stool. Charla melted into his arms, feeling a surge through her body. Just as he was about to pull away, he gently squeezed her ass, making a soft moan release from her lips.

  “You’re driving me crazy, babe. Let’s get out of here,” he said loudly as he grabbed Charla’s hand. “This place is filthy.”

  “See ya, Rex,” Charla said, passing one last look at Rex and his open mouth. The bouncer stepped aside as they walked through the doors, Liam guiding Charla again, but this time with his hand much lower.

  “You okay?” Liam asked as they stepped out onto the sidewalk.

  “Your hand is still on my ass,” Charla replied. He pulled it off and shot her a crooked smile.

  “So, that was Rex, huh? The guy you were going to marry.” He looked back at the Paradise Club before turning to her, staring intently into her eyes. “The guy you were going to spend the rest of your life with.”

  “Yeah,” she replied, pointing to the building. “It kills me to think that asshole spent his late night study sessions here. What was I thinking?”

  “With a name like Sexy Rexy, I don’t know,” Liam joked. Charla hit him on the arm and his face fell more serious. He took her hand gently and squeezed it. “Not everyone is who they say they are, Charla. It’s a hard one to swallow. Believe me, it’s been eight years, and I still ask myself what happened. At the end of the day, my ex-wife isn’t who I thought she was. I had to fall out of love with the woman I thought I knew.”

  “Does it still hurt? Because I don’t want to let that man cause me any more pain than he already has. I don’t want to give him the satisfaction.”

  “It’s definitely easier now, but it still hurts some days,” he said, pulling her closer to him until their bodies were only inches apart. “But every day away from her is one step closer to the woman of my dreams, wherever she may be.”

  Charla’s heart pounded against her chest. “Well, wherever she is, I hope you find her. You deserve to find her.”

  “I know I do,” he whispered with a look intent on swallowing her lips again. She closed her eyes, wanting nothing more than to feel his lips against hers again when the rev of an engine interrupted them.

  “The track?” She opened her eyes to see a pained expression on his face.

  “The track,” he grumbled, reluctantly moving away from her. “But don’t think for a second you’re off the hook. I’m taking a rain check on that one.”

  I hope you do, Charla thought as they headed back to his Audi.

  Chapter 6

  The roar of rumbling engines and exhaust filled the summer air at Illinois International Raceway. A small crowd had begun filtering in, watching the stock cars do their practice runs. According to the sign on the way in, the races didn’t start until seven tonight. Liam parked his Audi next to a line of pick-up trucks fit for a redneck hoe-down. The one on the end was caked in mud while the one next to Liam was jacked a good two feet higher than normal. Gold rims spun slowly in the breeze like a pinwheel.

  “We’ll fit right in,” Liam said with a laugh as he killed the engine.

  “Just hope that guy doesn’t run over your car.” Charla pointed to a man in a flannel cut-off pounding a beer near the hood of his monster truck.

  “I’d have a thing or two to say about that,” he said, looking out the windshield. “You forget I’m a bounty hunter? You know that means I carry a variety of guns with me at any given time, right?”

  “Right. The Irish Gunslinger, how could I forget?” she joked.

  “That’s what you nicknamed me?” he asked, turning toward her with wide eyes.

  “Maybe.” She shrugged her shoulders as he shook his head. “What?”

  “Let’s do this,” he replied, getting out of the car before she could respond. They stepped out into the cut-down field, the leftover growth crunching beneath their feet as they walked toward the entrance. It was flagged by multi-colored pennants in the shape of an arch. A few of the pennants were missing, giving off a backyard carnival vibe. Charla half-expected to see a clown with curly red hair and a mini-pony appear. She hadn’t been at the race track for more than ten years. This time around, everything seemed different. Smaller. More run-down.

  “What’s the plan?” she shouted above the noise of the engines. They fired against each other, the drivers revving at a start line.

  “To find him, figure out if he’s my brother, and if he is, then convince him to help me find our other brother,” he replied.

  “That’s it? No plan? Is this how you catch all the bad guys? Just walk up to them and slap some cuffs on?” she asked as they walked down a small slope toward the wooden benches. “No smoke and mirrors? No cloak and dagger? Just the force of Liam Murphy.”

  “Pretty much,” he said. “I can be convincing, plus I’m not afraid to use force. I get what I want when I want it.”

  “Now I know why you asked me to come along,” she replied as he gestured her forward to a seat. She weaved through first and he followed, sitting down next to her. “You have to do a little work before you get down to business.”

  “Not always,” he replied. “I thought you could provide some moral support, but after seeing your little stint at Paradise Club, I think you’ve got a few tricks of your own up your sleeve.”

  “You bet I do.” She winked and turned back to the track, looking for car number four.

  “Charla Taylor, who are you?” he asked. She felt his gaze on her profile, but she continued to follow the cars with her eyes. “I thought you were some beautiful woman with unimaginable patience and kindness who cared for an ailing man.”

  “I am,” she answered, pulling her eyes away from the track. She studied him for a second before adding, “And so much more.”

  Liam let out a low whistle. “Well, I’m looking forward to learning more about you.”

  “I bet you are,” she said, turning back to the track and pointing. The cars were beginning to slow after a couple of practice laps. They pulled off to the side of the track, following a dirt path to a holding area. “If he’s driving car number four, he’s the black one with the skull on the hood.”

  “Good looking out,” he said, following her finger. “I think you might be more of a distraction to me than anything else.”

  Charla smiled then stood up. “Let’s go down there. I’m not going to spend my whole night waiting around to watch these guys spin around the track like goddamn hamsters in wheels.”

  “You got it, Boss,” he said as they wound down the hill and along the fence at the bottom of the track.

  They stood on the edge of the holding area as the drivers emerged from their cars. A shiny black helmet with a white skull popped out from car number four. The rest of the man climbed out and walked toward another driver. They talked for a few minutes before driver number four finally pulled off his helmet to reveal a completely shaved head. He tucked the helmet under his arm and then began walking the other way.

  “Let’s go.” Charla grabbed Liam’s hand and began following the man. They were a few feet behind him when he stopped and turned around. His eyes locked on Liam’s and then Charla’s.

  “You got a fuckin’ problem?” he asked, scrunching down his thick eyebrows.

  Charla studied the lines of his muscular jaw set in an angular face. Tattoos ran up the sides of his neck, but his face was clear of any ink. He was good
-looking, like Liam, but he had more of an edge to him. There was an unpredictability in the way he stood, like he might explode at any given moment. His eyes flashed the same deep blue color as Liam’s. There was no mistaking they could be brothers.

  “Are you Ronan Williams?” Liam asked, taking a step toward him. Liam’s voice was different. Stronger, more assured with his shoulders pressed back. It was a warning not to mess with him.

  So this is how he does it, she admired, standing back to let the men assess each other. They stood in silence for a few moments, looking each other up and down. She was sure Liam could hear her eye roll. It was a pissing match. He must be the middle one, Charla thought. Men.

  “Yeah, who the fuck is asking?” Ronan finally said, still not breaking the stare-down.

  “Liam Murphy.” He held out his hand to Ronan. He hesitated for a second before meeting Liam’s in what Charla guessed was another match to see who could squeeze the hardest. They finally dropped their hands. “We stopped by your shop, but you were closed. We were told by some of your friends that you would be here.”

  “Yeah, the shop will be open tomorrow. You can stop by then.” Ronan turned and walked away. A skull flashed on the back of his black jacket. Flames spewed out of its mouth.

  “I don’t want a tattoo,” Liam called to him. “I’m here because of the tattoo on your chest. The one you’ve had since you were a kid.”

  Ronan stopped, but didn’t turn around. Liam stood resolute, waiting for him to respond. Charla watched, not wondering if he was going to get what he wanted. Liam was going to take it.

  “I’ve got the same one,” Liam continued as he reached into his back pocket to retrieve the envelope Charla had given him. “Right on my heart. Had it since I can remember. It’s the Celtic symbol for family.”

  Ronan shifted his helmet to his other hand and then finally turned around to face them. He walked back toward Liam with a look of interest spread across his face. He unzipped his jacket and lifted his shirt to reveal a mid-section filled with tattoos, even more inked than Liam’s. There was barely a centimeter of clean skin.