Liberty At Last (The Liberty Series) (14 page)

And I want you,
I thought, looking at him.
And you are anything but normal and boring
.

“It made me start thinking about you, and us,” I said. The sheet was pulled up to those infuriating, mesmerizing divots near his hips. I tried to look away but I couldn’t, so I gave in and let my fingers trace their outline. “I wanted to try to find Catherine…because I thought it would help you,” I said. “I thought it would ease your pain. And I was hoping that if you had some kind of closure, that you’d stop doing what you do.”

“Huh?” John said, looking over at me. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” I said, taking a deep breath and squaring my shoulders, “that if you found Catherine, and made peace with her, you might stop capturing bad guys for a living. And beating them. And shooting people and getting shot at. Stop living dangerously, every day of your life.”

“Why would finding Catherine have anything to do with that?” John asked. He looked perplexed. “I don’t follow.”

“Ummm…” I had to remember that I was dealing with a guy, here. Adriana, one of the girls I worked with at the Treasure Chest, had told me once: “Men are like dogs. They need food, drink, exercise. You need to pet them every day. They get excited when they see you.” She’d looked down disapprovingly at the book I was reading, something by James Joyce that I’d only understood about a quarter of.

“No big ideas,” she’d said, shaking her head firmly.

I had to make this simple, because John probably wasn’t used to psychoanalyzing himself. He probably didn’t look for a motive behind every choice he made. Not like I did.

“I thought that if you weren’t upset about her anymore, you wouldn’t want to kill every bad guy you could get your hands on,” I said, lamely. “I was hoping that it might help you not look for revenge all the time.”

He sat there, looking surprised. “…You think I do what I do...for revenge?” he asked.

Uh oh.
I nodded at him mutely.

“For what they did to her?”

I nodded again.

“Huh,” John said, draining the rest of the wine from my glass.

“Huh?” I asked.

“Just huh. For now. I’ll have to think about that some more. Now, let’s get dressed and go see your sister. Then it’ll be your turn.”

“What do you mean?” I asked, following him off the bed.

“We’ll review
your
psychological profile after this,” he said.

“Huh,” I said.

“You look nice,” John said, eyeing me appraisingly as we got into the elevator.

“Thanks,” I said. “A stranger bought this for me.”

“I gave them pretty specific instructions,” John said and laughed.

I looked at myself in the reflection on the inside of the door. A short black skirt made of a thick, hammered satin, with a little ruffle around the hem; a low-cut off-white silk tank top and black gladiator heels. A beautiful lacy bra and matching underwear. I’d lost so much weight that I wasn’t filling out the top like I used to, but at least my hair was clean. I made sure to keep my arms turned in, so he didn’t see the marks.

“Was it the concierge?” I asked. I was baffled that someone in a hotel would go shopping for you.

“Someone who works for them,” he said. “She sent me pictures while she was at the department store, and I approved.”

“I’m so glad,” I said, and took a small curtsy.

John moved over and putting his arm protectively around my waist. Thank goodness we were alone, so we could touch each other freely. “You look beautiful, but you need to eat. You’re too skinny. It’s making me upset.”

“Well, that mac and cheese was pretty good,” I said, even though I’d only managed to have a couple of bites before he’d hustled me out of our room. “And I’ve heard that Southern food has a lot of bacon in it —”

“It’s in almost everything,” John said.

“Then we should just stay here for a couple of days, and I’ll be back to my normal weight in no time.” At least he wasn’t going to make me go running anytime soon. That was a bonus.

“We’re heading back later tomorrow,” he said. “Eva’s coming up.”

“Ah yes, Eva,” I said, jolted suddenly back to reality.
Sasha first, Eva second.
“So we’re just staying tonight? And my sister’s going back tomorrow?”

“Unless you want her to come with us,” he said.

I just looked at him, taken aback. I wasn’t ready to think that far ahead. “One step at a time, John, one step at a time.”

“I know what you mean,” he said, and I knew he was thinking of Catherine.

“What
is
the plan?” I asked. I had to prepare myself for my sister and her questions, of which there probably would be many. “I mean, we’re heading back east tomorrow…then Eva…then what?”

“We’ll have to get Catherine settled,” he said. “She’ll have to stay at a hospital or some kind of facility. She might have to be committed involuntarily, but I hope it doesn’t come to that. I have a friend, a psychiatrist, in Boston. He can help us. And hopefully, she’ll get better,” he said. “I don’t know — she needs to be assessed. I need to hear a clinical opinion.” He was quiet for a second, drumming his fingers against my hip. “And there’s some other stuff going on.”

He didn’t say anything further and I waited for a beat. “Like what?” I asked. He cleared his throat, looking straight ahead. “Umm…waiting for an answer, over here,” I said.

“There are some business issues I have to deal with,” he said, keeping his hand firmly around my waist. “And I want you to wait for me at home while I take care of them.”

My stomach dropped, for a number of reasons — not the least of which was that he referred to “home” like it was
our
home. It made me woozy.
Ridiculously happy woozy.
“What sort of issues?” I asked, trying to stay on point.

“Our old friend we sent to Brazil,” John said, shrugging as if he was trying to play it off.

“Darius?” I asked, my heart pounding. “What’s happening?”

“We’re getting some mixed signals. I need to take care of it before it becomes an issue,” he said.

“Do you have to go down there?” I asked, petrified at the thought of him being in yet another dangerous place, far away from me.

“I might,” he said. I could tell he was trying to keep his tone light. “It’s a fluid situation right now. We’ll have to see what happens.”

“John,” I said. “Please, don’t do this. I’m back. I’m safe — stay with me and be safe, for once. You have plenty of money. You don’t need to do this anymore.”

“Liberty. You know it’s not about the money,” he said, turning to look at me, “and despite what you said earlier, it’s not about revenge. It’s about doing what’s right.”

“Can’t we be done with doing what’s right?” I asked. “Haven’t we been in enough danger since we met? Can’t we just be normal? And safe?”

“Of course,” John said, pulling me closer. “I want to be normal and safe. That’s what I want, too.” He nuzzled my neck. He was
so
trying to get what he wanted.

“So?” I asked, running my hand down his chest and then slowly over the front of his pants. He stirred against me.
Two can play this game,
I thought
.

“So,” John said, pushing his crotch against my hand and kissing my neck, “if you want this to be my last assignment, it will be.”

Now I felt slutty, woozy and thrilled all at the same time.
Liberty, there was a “but” in there — I heard it even if your lust-addled brain didn’t,
my inner voice said.

“I can’t leave Darius out there unattended,” he said, breaking the spell. I pulled away from him, from his rising hard-on. “I can’t do that to Cruz. And I can’t do that to the general public.”

I sighed. Now the “but” was clear — he would quit the business,
but
he was going to finish what he started with Darius first.
Did he understand how much I hated guns? And violence, and all the fear that went with it? Had I not made that clear enough?

The pleasant wooziness and heat between my legs completely evaporated. “One last assignment?” I asked, my heart sinking.

“That’s all I’m asking,” he said.

“It doesn’t seem like I have much of a choice, here,” I said.

“You always have a choice,” he said, leaning over me. “And you should always make the right one.” I sighed again, heavily, resigned. I knew full well that he meant I should choose what
he
wanted, because he believed to his core that he was right.

I separated myself from him and adjusted my clothes. I wan’t going to make it easy and give him an answer right now — that is, if he was even waiting for an answer from me. It sounded as if he had his mind made up. The elevator doors opened and I caught one last look at my reflection and the beautiful clothes. I suddenly remembered what I’d promised Catherine.

“Did you have your personal shopper pick up anything for Catherine?” I asked, feeling guilty. “She doesn’t really like what Matthew got for her to wear…I promised I’d buy her something else.”

“We’ll get something tomorrow,” John said. “Let her sleep on it. Or in it. I know she hates that shirt, but I think it’s good for her.”

I laughed, picturing her looking positively pissed in the shirt with the hot-pink smiley face. My laughter came to a sudden halt, however, as we crossed the beautiful, opulent lobby. I was going to see my sister.
Sasha.
My stomach twisted into a knot. My palms started to sweat and I pulled my hand away from John, embarrassed.

“It’s okay, babe,” he said into my ear. “It’s gonna be okay. We’ll talk about that other stuff later. Tonight, we’re gonna go have some delicious food — it’s supposed to be the best skillet-fried chicken ever. It’s a family style restaurant and Sean’s meeting us there, so we’ll have a buffer — or I will, anyway. So you and your sister can talk.”

John nodded to the valet as he hailed a cab for us. “Thank you for doing this,” I said. “I’m mad at you about Darius, and some other stuff, but thank you for caring enough about me to call Sasha.”

“You’re welcome,” John said, “and it’s my pleasure. This is for me, too — I’m excited to meet her. I feel like it’s going to give me another piece of you.” He ran his hand gently, carefully up my arm. “What’s she like?”

“She’s really smart. She always did better than me in school. And we don’t really look that much alike,” I said, “except she’s blonde, too. Neither of us look like our mother.”

Sasha was complicated. She was very temperamental, but also practical. Maybe she was practical first and secondarily temperamental about all the things she couldn’t control. Which, in our house, had been pretty much everything. My mother made her crazy. When we all lived together, she pretty much yelled at my mom and punched things, like the nearest wall, every day. But if things were going right — which they rarely were in our house — she could be a doll.

“She was angry a lot of the time,” I said, remembering. “She and my mom did
not
do well together.”

“You got along better with your mom?” he asked.

I nodded. “I guess I was more forgiving…I always thought of her as sick. I felt sorry for her. Sasha just thought she was a total fuck-up.” I didn’t like to remember my mother that way. I tried to relax, to block everything out, as I snuggled against him. Too soon, we pulled up outside a pretty red brick building with a line out the door. I sat up and scanned the crowd. John got out and opened my door. I was briefly distracted by the sight of him in his jeans and an untucked blue button-down shirt. Another part of my body snarled hungrily. I instinctively stuck my chest out and smiled up at him.

“Before I forget to tell you, you look hot,” I said, flushing.

“Dinner’s gonna be great, but I can’t wait to get back to the hotel,” he said, lowly, leaning down and helping me out of the car. “I keep catching glimpses of that bra.” Heat spread through my belly, and I forgot about everyone — Sasha, Darius, Catherine — but him for a moment. He pulled me up and into an embrace, crushing his lips to mine. I clung to him, not caring who saw us. He put his tongue in my mouth and I couldn’t help responding — I groaned and put my hands around his back, pressing myself against every inch of him. He was my anchor, my center. I was going to hold onto him forever.