Love Rents A Room
Chapter 136: Seeking Help

Chapter 136: Seeking Help

Jeffrey wasn’t even sure if the man he met during his nomadic days would pick up.

A year ago, he had nothing—not a single dollar to his name. He had been drifting, lost in the outskirts of a national reserve, sleeping rough, relying on the kindness of strangers. A group of hikers had taken pity on him, sharing their food and offering him shelter in their tent.

Back then, that had been his life.

It felt like a distant memory now. These past few weeks, staying with Joanne, he had known comfort again. A home. Her warmth.

His chest tightened.

Joanne.

The thought of her lying in the OR, cut open, fighting for her life, made his stomach twist.

Before he could dwell on it, the doors to the operating room swung open. The doctor stepped out.

Jeffrey dropped everything and rushed to him.

"The surgery was a success," the doctor said. "Her condition is stable, but she’s still under anesthesia. Once she’s transferred from the CCU to the ICU, you can visit her."

The weight crushing his chest lifted, just a little. His knees nearly buckled in relief. She made it through.

His mind, finally clearing from panic, went into motion. He called everyone who had reached out—Liam, Patrick... even Jonathan. Well, Jonathan just got a text.

Liam picked up first.

"I’m hunting down Tom Sullivan," Liam said. His voice was sharp, brimming with fury.

Jeffrey’s jaw clenched. Tom.

So, it was him.

The bastard had attacked Joanne, thinking his connection to the congressman would shield him.

Jeffrey exhaled sharply, pushing the rage down. His grandfather’s warning surfaced in his mind—how his ex, Heather, was tied to that same congressman.

Was it connected? He couldn’t be sure. He wouldn’t jump to conclusions. Not yet.

One thing was certain—he needed leverage.

Without hesitating, Jeffrey scrolled through his contacts until he landed on a name.

Noel Bilham.

A Pulitzer Prize-winning journalist, Noel had made a name for himself uncovering the darkest truths—coups, corruption, political unrest. He didn’t just report stories; he tore them open.

Jeffrey had met him by chance.

It was just after he had hit rock bottom. He had been nothing but a broke drifter, and Noel—fresh off exposing another scandal—had been hiking to clear his head. He had lent Jeffrey his tent, fed him, talked to him like a father would.

"Find what clicks," Noel had told him. "And when you do, don’t hesitate. Go after it with all your heart."

Jeffrey had never forgotten those words.

Now, he needed Noel again.

The dial tone rang, stretching on. Jeffrey doubted Noel even remembered him. Would he answer?

Just as the call was about to drop, there was a click.

"Noel?"

A warm chuckle greeted him. "Jeffrey! How are you doing, son?" The voice was the same—steady, fatherly.

Jeffrey let out a small breath. "I’m doing fine. What about you? Still wandering? Found your next calling?"

Noel laughed. "Oh, you know me—I go where the stories take me. Right now, I’m hiking the Grand Canyon. Surprised I even got a signal." A pause. Then, softer—almost wistful, "Ah, Jeffrey, you should see what I’m seeing now. The world is breathtaking... Humans are terrible, but nature—nature is perfect."

Jeffrey chuckled. That was Noel.

"I’ve got a calling for you," he said, voice lowering. "Want to listen?"

The wind howled through the phone, filling the silence. Then...

"...Throw me the bait, Jeffrey." Noel’s tone shifted—sharper now, serious.

Jeffrey exhaled. "Congressman Campbell."

A beat of silence.

Then Noel sighed. "I don’t dig into our politicians, son. That swamp runs deep. You’d be amazed how far they’ll go to keep their secrets buried."

Jeffrey frowned. He had hoped...

"What’s this about?" Noel asked.

A deep breath.

"I found a girl, Noel."

Silence. The wind had settled.

"I want to build a life with her," Jeffrey admitted. His throat felt tight. "And I need to protect her."

A soft chuckle. "That’s beautiful, Jeffrey. That’s the beauty of life."

Something in Jeffrey’s chest ached.

"Don’t let her go," Noel said firmly.

"I won’t."

There was warmth in Noel’s voice, but Jeffrey could hear the refusal underneath. He wasn’t going to take the bait. He had to find another way. Either way, he was glad he talked to Noel.

"What’s her name?" Noel asked.

"She’s from Rockchapel. Owns a farm... a logistics company..."

A beat.

Then he inhaled sharply.

"Shamrock Logistics?" Noel asked.

Jeffrey stilled.

"How do you know that?"

Noel exhaled heavily. "It’s... complicated." Another pause. Then he took in a deep breath as if he had made a decision. "I’ll be there in three days. Give me everything you’ve got."

Jeffrey sat up straight. "Wait, what? What do you—"

"I said, I’ll be there in three days." Noel’s voice was strained, as if the signal was slipping. "I’ll—"

Static.

"Noel?" Jeffrey shouted.

"You’re breaking up," Noel’s voice crackled. "I’ll see you soon."

The line went dead.

Jeffrey stared at his phone, brows furrowed.

What the hell was that about?

But one thing was clear—Noel had changed his mind.

And that meant something big was coming.

-----

Liam sat at the edge of the bed, his strong hands gently massaging Fiona’s legs. She hadn’t complained about any discomfort, but he did it anyway. She’d been through enough today.

The doctors had warned them—no stress. Not for her. Not with her history.

But how could she not be stressed? With everything happening around them, it was impossible to shield her completely. All he could do was this. Keep her comfortable, keep her safe, while the world spun out of control outside.

Fiona sighed, half-asleep, her voice husky with drowsiness. "They still haven’t found Tom?"

Liam’s hands paused for a brief second before he resumed kneading slow, soothing circles into her calves.

"No," he murmured.

Fiona hummed sleepily, enjoying the warmth of his touch. She was exhausted, but she fought against sleep, her concern overriding her fatigue.

"Shouldn’t we get some clothes for Joanne?" she mumbled. "Is she awake yet?"

Liam smiled softly and lay down beside her, slipping his fingers into her hair. He twirled a few strands between his fingers before leaning in to blow lightly against her cheek.

"Sleep," he whispered.

She scrunched her nose but smiled, eyes fluttering shut.

His phone buzzed again and again, the screen flashing insistently in the dim light.

Something had happened.

But Liam stayed still, his hand resting gently on Fiona’s back, rubbing slow, rhythmic circles until her breathing deepened. Only when he was sure she was asleep did he move.

Sliding out of bed, he stepped into the hallway and checked his phone.

His screen was flooded with messages.

One after another.

All saying the same thing.

Tom Sullivan had surrendered.

Liam’s grip on the phone tightened.

That bastard.

Tom had walked into the local police station and turned himself in.

Not out of guilt.

Not out of remorse.

But to protect himself.

Now that he was in police custody, no one could get to him. No one could make him pay for what he’d done to Joanne.

Liam clenched his jaw, his knuckles whitening around his phone.

Tom knew. He knew the whole town would come for him. He knew the moment he set foot outside, he wouldn’t last the night. So, he had played it smart. Like the coward he was.

Liam exhaled sharply, trying to rein in the fire burning inside him.

But his pulse roared with one thought.

This isn’t over.