by James, Leigh
“People aren’t that different,” she said, shaking her head. “I shouldn’t have put my cigarettes out on you, but I’d never kill you in cold blood.”
I nodded at her. “Good to know,” I said. Inexplicably, we both laughed.
“We have to get him out of here,” I said. “Can you help?”
She limped over to us and helped me pick up Ian, grimacing as she did so. Up close, her bruised and swollen face looked ghastly, ghoulish. “Angel is waiting for me to come find him,” Catherine said. We looked at each other, again. An understanding passed between us.
Maybe we weren’t so different, after all.
We carried Ian down the hall and placed him against the wall at the bottom of the stairwell.
“Where is Angel waiting for you?” I asked.
“Upstairs in his office,” she said.
“Everybody upstairs is dead,” I said.
“I doubt it,” she said. “I don’t have very good luck.”
She started limping up the stairs and I followed, leaving Ian at the bottom, worrying that I was making a horrible mistake. But I didn’t hear John, and I didn’t know how much time we had left. We made it to the top of the stairs and stepped into the bright sunlight of the kitchen.
And into the range of a large pistol, held by Angel Morales.
He pointed it at Catherine’s face and briefly turned his cloudy eyes my way, to where I stood behind her. “Put down your weapon,” he said, in perfect English. I followed his orders and slid my gun across the floor to him, my heart wailing as I watched it skid away from me.
Catherine and Angel looked at each other and I watched as Angel pointed his gun at her.
“Angel,” she started, her hands on her hips, sounding like she was trying to reason with him.
“Just stop,” he said. “Me traicionaste. You’ve betrayed me.”
“Yes, I did,” Catherine said, calmly, like she was talking to a small child. I’d never heard her use this tone before — it was kind and patient. “I didn’t realize it until now, but I still want my family. And you’re not my only family, Angel. I miss my mother,” she said, and although I couldn’t see her face, it sounded like she was crying again. “You aren’t the only one I care about anymore. If you could accept this, you’d know that I still love you, too.”
“I don’t believe that,” Angel said. “If you loved me, you wouldn’t be doing this to me. Sneaking around, using your phone behind my back. You know I can’t have that in my house. I told you what I needed from you and you swore you’d give it to me. Now you’ve broken that promise. And you know what happens to the people who break their promises to me.” His cloudy eyes looked almost tender for a moment, and it looked like he actually loved her. But there was something more important to Angel than love, I guess, because I only saw a flash of regret as he pulled the safety off his gun.
I held my breath and then watched as Catherine briefly patted her fingertips against her lower back. She’d had her hands on her hips the whole time and she was moving her fingers, trying to motion to me —
— to bring my attention to the handgun that was sticking out of the back of her pants. I grabbed it and before he could shoot his wife, I shot Angel Morales. I shot him dead.
John splashed in the turquoise water and called to me.
“In a little bit,” I yawned, turning over on my chair. He gave up and came up the beach, sinking into the chair next to me, immediately tapping on his phone for dinner reservations and checking his email.
“Don’t you ever relax?” I asked. My voice came out funny. My face was squished against the teak lounge chair and its pillows; I sounded all squeaky and wrong. Relaxing didn’t really suit me, either. We’d been in Turks and Caicos for four days and we were already both feeling antsy.
“I think you know the answer to that,” John said. He closed his eyes and pretended to soak up the sun. “Okay, I admit, I’m bored,” he said. “Can’t we do something exciting?” he asked.
“Like what?” I asked. We’d already had drinks at the swim-up bar, I’d learned to scuba dive, and we’d had sex probably over a hundred times. What else could he think of? Besides shooting people or fighting?
“Why don’t we get married while we’re down here?” he asked.
I sat up and clapped my hands together. “Let’s do it!” I said. “Ian’s better. Let’s fly him down and make it official,” I said.
“Matthew can come, and Mer,” John said. “Jake, Corey, Sean, Ethan, Michael…and Sasha, and Alexandra…and Catherine. If you’re okay with it,” he added.
I nodded at him. “You think she’ll be okay?” I asked.
“You never know,” he said, shrugging.
The number of people he had to call at least gave him something to do, so he wandered down the sand and did that. While he was occupied, I thought about the fact that I’d killed Angel Morales, and all that had happened since.
We’d left Mexico without shooting too many more people, and we’d managed to get Ian into a hospital down there for immediate attention, and then flown to a hospital in Texas. He had a concussion and some other trauma, but he was eventually okay.
When he regained consciousness, Ian had been thrilled to hear that Angel wasn’t an in-law anymore.
Catherine had come with us, at least to California. Then she’d gone home to Eva, getting medical attention and also the time she needed with her mom. She was quiet during the trip. She didn’t mention Angel, or anything else that had happened.
But she said she’d call us, and she had…twice. All she’d talked about was the highlights she’d gotten in her hair, and the fact that she and Eva were doing Pilates on a regular basis, but still. She’d spoken to John directly. And she hadn’t called either one of us a fuckwad in months.
As for me, I felt all the guilt appropriate for the situation. Which wasn’t much. If I had to do it over again…
If you had to do it over again, you wouldn’t have done it, my inner voice said. You would’ve gotten one of the guys to do it. So you wouldn’t have to think about Angel’s face at night, before you fell asleep.
But still. He’d hurt the people I loved. And maybe he was more evil than the rest of us. Maybe he made the world worse while he was here. I’d never know.
Despite what my inner voice had said, I knew I’d do it again. To protect the people I love.
Just then John came back up the beach, running on the sand. I marveled at his chiseled, tanned body in his low-slung swim trunks. But I got nervous when he came into focus and I could see the look on his face. He looked concerned. And excited.
“What,” I said, not bothering to make it a question. I needed to know.
“The house in Rhode Island’s been robbed,” he said, breathing hard.
“What?” I asked. “When? Is Ian okay?”
“Yes,” he said, leaning over to catch his breath. “Whoever did it knew what they were doing. They just came in and broke into the safe.” We looked at each other for a beat.
“And stole my father’s necklace?” I asked.
“And stole your father’s necklace,” he said.
“Well,” I said, crossing my legs and applying more sunscreen, “why don’t we have everyone down here and get married?” I asked. “It would be awesome.”
“Totally,” John agreed.
“And then we can go home and catch the person who did it!” I squealed, clapping my hands together.
“We can ask questions first…” John offered, sliding onto my lounge chair and kissing me deeply. I could smell the ocean on his taut, suntanned skin.
“We’ll always ask questions first,” I said.
“Always,” he said, and beamed down at me.
“Always,” I said. I couldn’t agree more.
I could not write without the love and enduring support of my husband and my three beautiful, patient, kind children. I am thankful for you every day, even when you are subjecting me to (endless) hours of playoff football and bugging
me for snacks.
Thanks to my amazing beta readers, Beth Bawell, Sue Broadley, Jane Lyttle, Amily Moore, Wendy Myler and Amy Warren. You have been consistently supportive, insightful, funny and kind. You are brilliant and wonderful. You are my special little snowflakes. A special shout-out to Amy, who gave me the idea for Catherine’s note. Every time I read it, I think of you and smile.
Thank you to Leigh Berry, who designed the beautiful covers for the Liberty books. Leigh, you are an incredible artist. Thank you for making my books look amazing.
Thanks to all the fans, friends, and family who’ve been so supportive of Liberty. It’s been intimidating, but also so much fun, sharing my story with you. You’ve all been so kind and supportive. I have to also (always) thank my mom and dad, who support me and root for me no matter how smutty my books have been…I love you guys. You are special people. Thanks in particular to my mom, who is always ready with a pep talk, and who always told me to never give up.
Table of Contents
Table of contents
Preface
Book One: Captured
Chapter One: The Crying Game
Chapter Two: Wide Awake
Chapter Three: Just Give Me A Reason
Chapter Four: Fight For Now
Chapter Five: Leave Out All The Rest
Chapter Six: Lying In Bed
Chapter Seven: What Goes Around
Chapter Eight: Reasons To Be Missed
Chapter Nine: The One I Love
Book Two: Liberated
Chapter One: Secrets…
Chapter Two: …And Lies
Chapter Three: The Dress
Chapter Four: Reckoning
Chapter Five: The Date(s)
Chapter Six: Bombs Away
Chapter Seven: A Thousand Miles
Chapter Eight: The Shadow Of Your Heart
Chapter Nine: Breakthrough
Book Three: Unleashed
Chapter One: Wakeup Call
Chapter Two: Road To Nowhere
Chapter Three: Now You’re One Of Us
Chapter Four: A Sort Of Homecoming
Chapter Five: Back To The Start
Chapter Six: Hope Is A Four-Letter Word
Chapter Seven: What’s Left Of Me
Epilogue
Acknowlegdements