Liam didn’t waste a second. His hand shot out, firm but careful, guiding me toward a secluded alcove at the back of the boutique where the heavy velvet dressing room curtains muffled the upbeat jazz from the speakers.
Before he spoke, his eyes darted toward the plate-glass window at the front of the shop. Outside, the black sedan sat idling at the curb. Gregory was a silhouette behind the wheel, motionless and watchful.
"Is he still there?" Liam hissed, his voice tight.
"Gregory? Yes," I said, my voice trembling. "Liam, what is this? I’m supposed to be looking at dresses."
He turned back to me, his face a mask of desperate frustration. "Forget the dresses, Sarah. What happened to you? Where have you really been?"
"I told you. I was at a health spa. I was recovering—"
"Bullsh*t," he c
