Liberty At Last (The Liberty Series)

by James, Leigh

  “Do you remember the night we were here last? And I ran away from you?” I asked Matthew quietly. I started laughing hysterically, silently. His put-out expression only made me laugh harder. I leaned over and clutched my stomach, remembering the surprised expression on his face when I’d wriggled away from him to try to get to John.

  “Ha ha,” he whispered, watching me with a worried expression on his face. “John, I think she’s about to pop.”

  John looked at me too, and I looked up at him and tried to stop the giggles. “Nah, she’ll be alright,” he said. “Calm down, babe,” he said. “We’re almost there.” He looked down at his phone then. “Kevin followed them…to here,” John said, looking up at Matthew.

  “You ready?” John asked, and Matthew answered by way of a jaw clench.

  I finally stopped laughing, then.

  “Babe?” John asked.

  I nodded at him. I was as ready as I’d ever be. We all took our guns out; I noticed, as per usual when I held my gun, that my hands were sweating. I double-checked to make sure the safety was on.

  John and Matthew both looked down at their phones again — they must’ve buzzed. “Shit,” they said in unison. I looked over Matthew’s shoulder and read a text from Jake: “D coming in armed”

  “Shit,” I said.

  John opened the door a crack. Jake was still out in the crowd. John texted him quickly, waiting for a response. Cruz was locked in his office with two of the other guys standing guard.

  We waited, holding our breath, trying to listen past the thumping music.

  But we didn’t need to strain our ears for long. We heard Darius before we saw him — we heard firing. Lots and lots of firing.

  Lots and lots of screaming.

  John didn’t look back as he sprang out of the closet towards the noise, Matthew following closely behind. I knew my orders: stay crouched down behind the bar and make sure no one got in or out of the back door to the alley. The most important part of my orders, John had stressed, was TO STAY DOWN.

  The music went off. I hoped the DJ had run away. I heard more shots, and more people screaming — they sounded like they were screams from fear, thank god, not pain — and I found Chelsea the bartender sitting calmly on the floor behind the bar. She was drinking a martini. “I was just about to serve this,” she said, and shrugged. Maybe she wasn’t so calm. Maybe she was in shock. “You want some?” I smiled and shook my head at her, no. My body was shaking so hard I would have spilled it everywhere.

  “Are the lights back here?” I whispered. She nodded up to the wall, next to the long mirror. I crawled over, reached up and flicked several switches, illuminating the room with the lights they used when the club was closed and it was being cleaned. I squinted at the brightness as my eyes adjusted to it; all of this took seconds, but it felt like forever. A few more people screamed and against John’s orders I peered up over the bar, searching for him.

  Darius was standing with a large rifle pointed at Alex. Most of the patrons were on the floor, some were scuttling towards the exit…I saw Jake on the ground, no gun in sight…and I couldn’t see Matthew. Or John. Anywhere. I also couldn’t tell if any of the girls were out there…maybe they’d all made it out back.

  I could only hope.

  “Bring him out here,” Darius was yelling at Alex, who was just looking at him, terrified. “BRING HIM OUT HERE!” He fired a shot at Alex and I watched him scream and sway back; red blood bloomed on the shoulder of his white shirt. He turned, staggering, and swayed drunkenly out of the room, presumably back towards the office to get Cruz.

  “Now, who’ve we got here?” Darius asked, kicking the people on the floor, making them turn over so he could see them, shoving his gun in their faces. “You’ll do,” he said, pulling a woman up off the floor. She didn’t struggle. I recognized her immediately: Amber, one of the sometimes girls. The one with the dead eyes, dyed-red hair and a smattering of pockmarks, who always looked pissed to be anywhere. I guess she’d had the misfortune of being called in tonight. I wondered what she was thinking while Darius held onto her roughly, and shoved his gun into her ribcage. I was glad I couldn’t see the look in her eyes from here. Poor girl.

  Suddenly, Matthew sprang out from behind the stage in one flash of motion and tackled Darius. All I felt in that moment was guilt: pure, unadulterated guilt. If I hadn’t asked them to ask questions first and shoot later, Matthew would have already gotten off an easy shot. Instead, he’d tackled Darius and was in terrible danger. I heard another shot, and I could barely make out Darius sitting on top of Matthew, the two of them struggling violently.

  “NO!” I heard myself scream, and then I saw John come out of the back with Cruz, and he didn’t hesitate, he didn’t flinch, he just brought his gun up and shot Darius in the head. Darius slumped over instantly, dead.

  A few seconds later, I saw Matthew sit up and pull Amber away with him. She was alive.

  I sat down — actually I fell down, my legs were shaking so hard — on the floor next to Chelsea. I took the martini out of her hand and took a big gulp. John came running back then. “You’re okay?” he asked. I nodded silently up at him. He crouched down so we were at eye level. Chelsea was watching us with some interest, but I was numb and past caring.

  “I’m sorry,” John said. “He had Matthew —”

  I held up my hand to cut him off. “I know. I’m the one who’s sorry. I’m so glad you came out here when you did. Is Matthew okay?”

  John nodded. “But Darius —”

  “John, you shot him in the face. Of course he’s dead.”

  “I know that’s not what you wanted. I’m sorry,” he said, looking miserable.

  “Don’t be,” I said, throwing my arms around him. “You saved Matthew. And probably Amber, and Cruz, and who knows who else.” He held me for a while, and Chelsea got up and scooted.

  “Help yourself to the liquor,” she said as she left.

  “John, I’m the one who should be sorry. I’m the asshole,” I said, clutching him to me. “I was the one with the silly idea about a sit-down with that monster. If anything had happened to Matthew, it would have been my fault. I should have listened to you guys.”

  Matthew came up then, and I ran to him and hugged him. “Whoa,” he said, surprised. “I thought you were mad at me.”

  “I’m just glad you’re okay,” I said, tears spilling over. “I’ll never be mad at you again. I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

  “You don’t need to be. I’m just glad it’s over. That guy was more trouble than he was worth.”

  John rubbed my back gently. “We can talk about all of this more, later,” he said, kissing the top of my head. “We’re going to clean up and deal with the police and EMS. I’m going to have Corey drive you back to the hotel. You need to rest for a while.”

  I went through the crowd in search of Corey; people were back up on their feet, looking shaken but relieved. The police had come in and people were giving statements. Darius’s body had been covered, and Alex was on a stretcher. I went over to him quickly. “Are you okay?” I asked, grabbing his hand. He nodded at me, but he looked pale. “I’m sorry this happened to you,” I said.

  “S’okay,” he said, quietly. “But do you think you could put in a good word with Cruz for me? Like, for a raise?” He smiled at me, slick, oily and fake-tanned as ever, and I had to smile back.

  “Sure,” I said. “Take care of yourself. Be nice to the girls.”

  “Always,” he said, and he had the energy to wag his eyebrows at me. I guessed Alex was going to be all right.

  Amber was sitting nearby, a blanket wrapped around her. “You okay?” I asked.

  “I’d like to get the fuck out of here, actually,” she said, cutting her eyes towards a nearby officer.

  “Are you hurt?”

  She shook her head. “Then come with me,” I said. “We’ll take you.” She shrugged off the blanket and followed me to where Corey was waiting by the door. I realized I was all o
ut of steam; assured that no one else had been hurt, I decided I would come back and check in with the rest of the girls tomorrow.

  “Can we drive her?” I asked.

  “Is she approved?” Corey asked.

  “I approve her,” I said, and he nodded.

  Amber let out a low whistle when we got into the Range Rover. “This is gonna be out of place in my neighborhood,” she said. She told me her address.

  “My apartment’s right near there,” I said.

  “Yeah, but you don’t live there anymore,” she said. “Must be nice.”

  “It is nice,” I said, watching as she smoothed her obscenely red hair. “I’m lucky,” I said, kindly.

  Luck didn’t have anything to do with it, babe, John’s voice said in my head. It was fate that brought us together.

  “You’re lucky that you’re prettier than me,” Amber said, when she got out at her crappy apartment building. “That never hurts.”

  Sleeping in the enormous bed in our hotel room would have been fabulous, except for the nightmares. Dreams of spiders on their hind legs, Darius straddling Matthew, guns, blood, and screams kept waking me up. My own mind was a prison, not letting me rest. Finally I gave up. More exhausted that ever, I ordered a bottle of white wine from room service and drew myself a hot bath.

  I really hope this day ends soon, I thought a little later, as I looked at the Buddhas near the bath and drank my wine. John had been gone for hours — if I was tired, he and the other guys must be beyond exhausted. I didn’t know what was involved in “cleaning up” and dealing with the police after an incident like this. Thinking about it made me worried. Would John be charged with something? Once they looked at his record, wouldn’t the police be suspicious of him?

  A little while later I was back in bed, almost asleep, when he came in. “Hey babe,” he said, kissing me softly and heading towards the bathroom. I heard him turn on the shower and sigh. I stayed awake until he crawled into bed with me. “Everything okay?” I asked, groggily.

  “It’s fine. It’s all going to be fine from now on,” John said, grabbing my hand. Finally next to each other and safe, we both fell asleep.

  “What,” I said, a few minutes later. Someone was talking loudly, angrily, trying to wake me up. “Stop it,” I said. What the hell?

  I opened one eye and I saw John standing up, pacing the room, barking into his cell phone. It was still dark out. “Well, that’s unacceptable, Ethan,” he said, running one hand through his thick hair so it stood up wildly. “You need to get a handle on it. Now. Find out what’s going on and get back to me.” He put the phone down and pinched the bridge of his nose, never a good sign.

  “What is it?” I asked.

  “It’s Catherine,” he said, looking out the window. “Ethan says she was beaten. I guess they had a doctor come there but she had to go to a lab to have some tests done.”

  “Beaten?” I said, gaping at him. “Who did it? How did they get to her?”

  “Ethan thinks Angel did it. He has a source, and that’s what the source told him. Her face is bruised and cut up. He’s going to track the doctor down now to confirm.”

  We looked at each other, horrified. “She never hinted at anything like that about him,” I said, thinking back. “She always said that he saved her. I didn’t see any marks on her the whole time I was down there. She never spoke like she was afraid of him,” I said. “It seemed more like she worshipped him. But maybe he’s upset, because she was up here, and saw her family…” I let my thought trail off.

  “You sounded mad on the phone. Why are you upset with Ethan?” I asked.

  “Because he’s just telling me. And it happened yesterday.” He paced back and forth for a while. Catherine was hardly my favorite person, but she deserved better than this. She’d been through too much already.

  “I’m going down there,” John said, grabbing his bag. He started stuffing his clothes into it, then stopped, getting back on his phone to make travel arrangements. Then he stopped flicking through his phone and just sat down on the bed, looking angry and tense and utterly hollowed. “I can’t let her be hurt anymore,” he said. His voice sounded dead and flat, like he’d gone past his breaking point.

  “Of course not. But I’m coming with you,” I said, getting up and grabbing some clothes to throw on. “And some of the guys. You may need us.”

  He shook his head. “No, Liberty.”

  I put my hand up to cut him off. “There is no way I’m letting you face this alone. I promise, I won’t make you do anything stupid, like try to negotiate with a black-hearted criminal,” I said. John just sat, staring out the window, like he was in shock. I picked up his phone and called Matthew.

  “Whatthefuckdoyouwant,” Matthew groggily answered, after one ring.

  “Matthew, it’s me,” I said. “Catherine’s in trouble. We need to go down there. I need your help.”

  Two hours and nothing but crap airport food later, we were on a plane to Mexico. John, me, Matthew, Corey and Jake.

  “The A-Team,” Jake had said, jovially, as we’d hopped into the car too early in the morning.

  “Shut it, Jake,” Matthew said. John let Corey drive, and just stared out the window the whole way.

  He held my hand in the airport, ate a bagel and drank coffee, but he was silent. Deadly silent. I started to worry that his anger had reached a new level — that he was so enraged, he was past speech.

  Two continents, three countries, one dead body, one beaten girl. This was a long fucking weekend.

  We had to fly to Mexico City first, then Matamoros’s airport. I held John’s hand the entire way, making him turn towards me and insisting that he sleep. His face, so beautiful and dear to me, looked more lined than ever. If Catherine had been through too much, so had he. It was time for him to have some peace.

  We had a quick layover in Mexico City. John had a taco with a lot of hot sauce that seemed to revive him, a little. He checked his messages as we waited for the next flight.

  “Was everything taken care of back in Vegas?” I asked Matthew, as John concentrated on his phone.

  “Yeah,” Matthew said. “The police were interested in all of us, but we’re all clean. There were over fifty witnesses who gave statements saying that Darius came in armed, shot that manager dude, and was about to shoot a dancer. John might have to go back at some point before they close the investigation, but that’ll be in the end of it.”

  “Does that happen to you a lot?” I asked. “Being called in for questioning?”

  “Nah,” Matthew said. “If we have to kill somebody, we usually try to do it privately, or out of the country. It’s just cleaner that way.” He laughed when he saw the horrified expression on my face. “Still not used to it, huh?” he asked. “You should be, by now. You’ve seen plenty.”

  I nodded at him, mutely. Then I watched in horror as John put his phone down and pinched the bridge of his nose again. “What,” I said, racing to slide into the seat next to him.

  “Ian flew to Matamoros,” John said, keeping his eyes scrunched shut.

  “When?” I asked.

  “He spoke to Ethan right after I did. He flew down right away, arriving earlier this morning.”

  I just looked at him, mutely, feeling my heart thudding in my chest. “And?” I finally asked, desperately.

  “And Ethan confirmed that he landed. Ian called him from the cab he took. And then Ian never made it to their meeting point. Ethan hasn’t seen him,” John said, finally opening his eyes. They were past pain. They were past desperation.

  They looked ready to kill.

  Matamoros was much nicer when you weren’t being held captive there. It was sunny and hot, and some parts were dusty and desolate looking. But the people in the markets smiled and called to us, thinking we were tourists. Of course, we were anything but.

  I felt weirdly exposed walking through the downtown market. I was petrified that someone would recognize me from the summer, when I’d wandered the same street
s looking for Los Morales. No one looked at me twice — or if they did, they hid it. I had a feeling the people who lived here had gotten pretty good at hiding things.

  John hadn’t given Ethan our travel information, fearing that somehow Ethan’s phone had been hacked. So we’d taken a cab from the airport to downtown, and we were headed to the one big chain hotel in town. We checked in and went to our room. John had us all together. He hadn’t said as much, but you could tell that he was tense, worried about everything.

  “This is no Byzantine,” Corey said, trying to bounce on the sparse mattress. John shot him a look and he shut up immediately.

  “Matthew,” John said. “I need you to call Sofia. Tell her we need weapons. I’ll pay her whatever she wants.”

  “Okay,” Matthew said, getting out his phone. “Don’t you want me to call Ethan first?” John just shook his head, no. “John,” Matthew said. “Ethan hasn’t done anything.”

  “No, he hasn’t, has he?” John asked, looking out the window.

  I heard Matthew sigh and then he called Sofia. There was talk about guns, talk about a drop off, and some other stuff, but I tuned it out and curled up on the one chair the room offered. I looked at John and his face was pale, resigned. Ian was here somewhere, I thought, and Catherine was here, hurt.

  We couldn’t be having that. We couldn’t be having any of that.

  I wondered where Ian was and if he was safe. He was so brave, so loyal — but he was also delicate. He had to be in his late 70’s, if not older. To say that I was worried about him was an egregious understatement. I thought of what Catherine did to me…but she wouldn’t do that to her own grandfather, would she? Especially not after Angel had hurt her?

  “We’re meeting Sofia in an hour,” Matthew said, putting his phone down. He looked at John.

  “Good,” John said. “After that, we’re going back in.”

  We bought a beat-up truck from a guy in the marketplace. “Efectivo, efectivo,” John assured him. John handed him a large wad of cash, but the guy kept looking around, worried.