Liberty At Last (The Liberty Series) (46 page)

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 out 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.