Chapter 5 - The Physical Therapy of Fire
The pain was unimaginable.
Sweat poured off Liam’s body in sheets, soaking his grey t-shirt, pooling along the dark hair on his chest, as he dragged his shattered right leg across the wooden exercise beam we had rigged up in the center of the bedroom.
"Again," I commanded, standing right in front of him, my hands supporting his waist, my body acting as his brace.
"I can't... clear the beam... Clara," he gasped through gritted teeth, his neck muscles bulging with agony as the metal rods in his femur pulled against the healing bone tissue.
"Yes, you can!" I yelled, looking right into his eyes, inches from his face. "You ruled half this city, Liam! You built an empire! Are you going to let a piece of stainless steel beat you? Lift the leg!"
He let out a guttural, primal roar of rage and effort.
With a violent surge of willpower, Liam lifted his right knee three inches, clearing the wooden beam, and slammed his foot down onto the hardwood floor.
He wobbled violently, his balance tipping forward.
"I've got you!" I cried out, wrapping both arms around his broad chest, absorbing his massive weight against my body.
We crashed down together onto the soft leather gym mat I had pulled onto the floor.
I landed on my back, and Liam landed directly on top of me, his heavy chest pressing against mine, his face buried in the crook of my neck, his heavy, hot gasps brushing against my collarbone.
Neither of us moved for three long seconds.
The room was silent except for the sound of our ragged breathing. The scent of his sweat, mixed with the faint scent of my lavender lotion, filled the air between us.
Slowly, Liam raised his head. His face was hovering two inches above mine. His pale blue eyes were dark, dilated, burning with a raw, primal desire that sent a surge of electricity straight to my core.
"You're insane, Clara Bennett," he whispered rasply, his lips so close to mine I could feel their heat.
"I'm effective," I breathed back, my hands resting on his broad, muscular shoulders, feeling the intense heat radiating from his body. "You just walked three feet without crutches."
Liam looked down at my lips, his gaze lingering there with a desperate, agonizing longing. For a fraction of a second, I thought he was going to lean down and kiss me—and God help me, I wanted him to. I wanted to feel the rough, unyielding press of his mouth against mine, to surrender to the terrifying fire that had been building between us since the moment I walked into his dark room.
Before either of us could cross that line, a sharp, buzzing vibration echoed from my scrub pocket.
My personal phone—the one Leo had confiscated, but which I had secretly repossessed from the study desk earlier that morning—was vibrating.
I slid out from under Liam, sitting up quickly, my heart hammering against my ribs. I pulled the phone out and checked the caller ID.
County General ICU.
My blood ran cold. "Dr. Vance?" I answered, my voice trembling.
"Clara," Dr. Vance’s voice came through the speaker, frantic, surrounded by the loud, shrill blare of cardiac alarms in the background. "It's Tommy. The T-cell infusion triggered a severe cytokine release storm. His blood pressure is crashing. We need to perform an emergency plasma exchange right now!"
"Is he... is he conscious?" I choked out, tears instantly blinding my eyes.
"He's asking for you, Clara," Dr. Vance said, his voice breaking. "If we can't stabilize his pressure in the next two hours... you need to get down here."
The phone slipped from my fingers, clattering onto the leather mat.
I buried my face in my hands, a jagged, desperate sob tearing from my throat. Everything I had done—the danger, the violence, the terrifying secret world of Liam Mercer—was supposed to save my baby brother. And now, he was dying sixty miles away while I was trapped inside an armed fortress.
A pair of strong, warm arms wrapped around my shoulders from behind.
Liam pulled me back against his chest, holding me tight, burying his face in my hair as my body shook with uncontrollable sobs.
"Listen to me, Clara," Liam whispered into my ear, his voice hard as tempered steel, packed with an absolute, terrifying authority. "Tommy is not going to die today. I promise you on my life."
He reached over, picked up his secure satellite phone from the floor, and dialed a three-digit speed code.
"Leo," Liam commanded into the receiver, his tone leaving zero room for argument. "Prep the armored Suburban. Call Dr. Harrison at Northwestern Private Hospital. Tell him I am transferring my brother, Tommy Bennett, to his ICU via helicopter in twenty minutes. Clear the roof helipad at County General immediately."
I turned my head, staring at Liam through my tears. "Liam... that private air transport costs fifty thousand dollars..."
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Liam looked down at me, his blue eyes softening into something infinitely tender as he reached out and gently wiped a tear from my cheek with his thumb.
"I told you, Clara," he whispered softly. "You're family now. And nobody touches my family."
