Read Online Freedom's Price by Suzanne Brockmann - Free Book Online Page B

years—”
    He pushed himself to his feet. “Look, all I have to do is stay out of basements.”
    “And elevators?” she guessed.
    He shrugged, but the movement served only to emphasize the tension in his shoulders. “It’s no big deal.”
    “And how about the nightmares?” she asked quietly. She knew from the look on his face that she’d guessed correctly. He slept badly—when he slept at all. “Or maybe you just figure it’s natural to sleep only two or three out of every seven nights.”
    He turned away from her. “It’s not that bad. I sleep. Some of the time.”
    Marisala stood up too. “What if it does get that bad? What then? Will you try to ignore that too?”
    He dragged his hand through his hair. “Look, why don’t you wait until
after
you take freshman psychology before you start playing shrink?”
    Her temper flared. “I was there in San Salustiano too,” she told him tightly. “Remember? I may not have been in the prison, but I know what it’s like to be afraid of it. I spent years wondering what would happen if I were taken prisoner—whether I’d be strong enough to survive.”
    He backed down instantly. “I know. I’m sorry.”
    “Yeah, you should be. I’m only trying to be your friend. And I’m going to
keep
trying. Unless you’ve decided that you don’t want to be friends with a
child
anymore.”
    He looked at her then and smiled, but she knew it was just part of his disguise. Inside, he was not smiling. It was possible that he hadn’t really smiled in years. “Don’t get cute.”
    “That’s my problem, remember? I don’t know how to be cute. That’s one of the things you’re going to have to teach me.”
    Liam laughed, and for one heart-stopping moment, Marisala was certain he was going to pull her into his arms. But instead, he turned away. “Let’s go try to find you a
real
apartment.”
             
    Liam woke up to the jarringly festive sound of salsa music.
    He sat straight up, eyes instantly open but brain still befuddled. Where the hell was he? And what the hell was that music?
    It didn’t take more than a few bleary blinks of his eyes for him to recognize his bedroom. And as for the music…
    Marisala must’ve been in his room. She must’ve come in and changed the station on his clock radio and…
    There was a long, dark strand of hair on one of his pillows. Liam had a sudden flash of memory of Marisala in his bed, minus her clothing, her lithe body smooth as silk beneath his eager fingers, her body arching upward as his mouth claimed one perfect, pebbled nipple.
    Holy God, had she come into his room last night and climbed into his bed and?…
    No. No, it had only been in his dreams that he and Marisala had made incredible, decadently erotic love.
    He sank back against his pillows, closing his eyes, willing away the images that had made him instantly aroused. He didn’t know which was worse, dreaming about the prison, or dreaming about Marisala. Either way, he was destined to wake up gasping for air.
    On the radio, the deejay announced that it was going to be another hot one.
    The man was speaking Spanish, and Liam understood nearly every word. It was funny how quickly it came back to him. Not that he wanted it to. He’d just as soon forget it all. The war, San Salustiano, his Spanish,
every
thing.
    Even Marisala. Maybe
especially
Marisala.
    Liam reached for the clock radio and shut it off as he rolled out of bed. He showered quickly and pulled on a clean pair of shorts and a polo shirt. Today they were destined to find Marisala an apartment. They
had
to. Classes started in a matter of days.
    And it was only a matter of time before she realized that crap he’d told her about thinking of her as a child was just that—crap. Then she
would
come sneaking into his room at night, and he wouldn’t be able to resist her, and their entire friendship—as well as his friendship with her uncle—would be in jeopardy.
    The smell of fresh coffee brewing wafted