Liberty...And Justice for All (24 page)

He took his gun and shoved it roughly against my temple.

“Ow,” I said.

“Oh, you’re gonna be saying much more than
ow
shortly,” Robert told me, all signs of good-breeding completely dissipated.

“No she’s not,” Catherine hissed at him. “Let her go, or you won’t even be able to say ow, you fuckwad.”

At this, Robert just shook his head. “This is what I’m talking about,” he said, in a complaining tone. “You people are
trash
. You cannot be associated with my family. An ex-stripper and a chain-smoking slut. I cannot wait to be rid of you people.”

“You could have just RSVP’d
no
,” I said. He jammed the gun against my temple hard and I heard Catherine breathe in sharply.

“Enough. You let her go, right now, and I might let you leave here in one piece.”

“I’m not afraid of white trash,” Robert said, and at that, Catherine just rolled her eyes and dove at him.

He screamed in surprise and fell back. I took the opportunity to collapse on top of them both in my five-hundred pound dress. Catherine kicked, scratched and punched Robert, and somehow under the piles of me, came away as the victor with the gun.

Robert shoved me off and tried to crawl towards the door but Catherine very unceremoniously and immediately shot him in the leg. As he screamed, she hoisted me up and together, we stood over Robert. She used her spike heel to pin his hand to the floor. Catherine kept her gun trained on his angry, whitened face.

“You fucking shot me,” he spat at Catherine.

“Only once,” she said, and took the safety off the gun. There was an audible
click
and he looked up at her, wildly. “I’m happy to do it again.”

“N-n-no,” Robert stammered.

“Why did you do this?” I asked him, wildly. “Why did you steal the necklace? Why did you come here and drag me away like this? What the fuck were you going to do with me?”

He was breathing hard beneath us. “I’m not sure about that last part,” Robert said. “I was just so angry that you thought it was Jacoby, it was like my brain caught on fire. I was enraged.”

“Why were you angry I thought it was him? It means you would have gotten away with it,” I said, exasperated.

“All anybody in this family cares about is Jacoby,” Robert said. “He’s always the big deal. I’m tired of him getting all the attention.”

“You sound like a big baby,” Catherine said. She sounded bored.

“Okay…” I said, trying to find enough patience to keep questioning him. “You still haven’t answered me. Why did you steal the necklace?”

Robert’s eyes looked far away for a moment as he considered it. “When I found out about you, I was appalled,” he said. “Our father was horrible to my mother, like I told you. Really horrible—I swear that’s why she died so young. It was like he used her up.

“I never forgave him for what he did to her. He cheated on her with your mother. When she found out, that was the end of their marriage. And then when I found out about you recently, when Billy Brown and Alexandra told me about you—that your mother was a junkie and that you were a stripper—it was like something in me just snapped. I couldn’t believe that my mother had been ruined over people like you.”

“That’s not very nice,” Catherine said, and ground her heel into his palm some more.

“What my father did to our family wasn’t very nice,” Robert snapped. “I didn’t want you to have that necklace, Liberty. And I wanted you to know what I really thought of you.”

“Even though you didn’t have the balls to tell me it was you,” I reminded him.

He sighed. “That’s right.”

Robert’s pain was palpable, and I felt sorry for what had happened to Rita, but none of this was an excuse enough to justify his theft or threatening to tear me limb from limb.

“How did you get the necklace?” I asked.

“Once I found out your address, I started driving out here on a regular basis, just watching. Warwick’s not that far from Portsmouth, and I was obsessed with the idea of getting the necklace back. Then there was a week when all the cars left and it was quiet. So I came back one of those nights and broke a window to get in.”

“What about the safe?” I asked.

“I watched a video on You Tube about how to break into a home safe in under five minutes. All you need is a hammer and a crowbar,” he said.

“Really?” Catherine asked. “I’ll have to watch that.”

I turned to her and sighed. “This dress is a bitch,” I said to her, wanting to change the subject and just about everything else. “I can barely move.”

“You didn’t rip it, did you?” She asked. “Seriously, Liberty. It looks good on you.”

“Thanks,” I said. “You look beautiful.”

“Aw, thanks,” Catherine said. “Corey said this dress is his favorite.”

“You two are such whores,” Robert spluttered below us, trying to get our attention back.

“Oh, shut up,” Catherine said, exasperated. She promptly shot him in the shoulder and he screeched wildly in pain.

I wanted to feel sorry for him but I just couldn’t. Not yet.

“Can you believe it was Robert?” I asked her, as he bled onto the floor below us and bellowed. “We were all wrong. We all thought it was Jacoby.”

“I know…he’s so dangerous and exciting…I thought I might get to hate-fuck him afterwards and everything.” Catherine sighed. “This is kind of disappointing,” she said, motioning to Robert writhing in pain beneath us.

I peered down at him. “Was this really just about you thinking you were too good for me to be part of your family?”

He looked up at me, red-faced and shaking. He’d been shot twice and Catherine still had her sizable Louboutin heel skewering his palm. “I wanted you to understand that you couldn’t just waltz into our family and destroy it. You were a mistake. I told you. You’re not a Kingston,” he said, and I was surprised that, injured and clearly in the wrong as he was, he still had rage in his voice.

“That just seems…childish,” I said. “Plus, I inherited the problem. It’s not like I asked for it.”

“It’s pretty lame,” Catherine said.

She looked back down at Robert. “Although you’re right—she’s not a Kingston. She’s a Quinn. And Quinn’s don’t take shit from anybody.” Robert snorted in either disgust or pain, I couldn’t be sure which.

“Want me to show you again?” She aimed the gun lower on his body.

“No,” Robert said. Catherine dug her heel into him more sharply. “I mean—no, thank you.”

Just then, John, Ian and Matthew came around the corner. They were followed by Therese Granger, Katrina, Alexandra and Marks, Corey and Jacoby.

“Jacoby’s clean,” I told them. “Robert is the thief.”

“Whoops,” I heard Alexandra say to Katrina.

“You got that right,” Katrina said back.

“No kidding,” Matthew said, walking around Robert. “I didn’t think you had the
cojones
, dude.”

John came up beside me. “You shouldn’t be up,” I said to him.

“It’s not like I was going to miss this,” he said. “Are you okay?”

I nodded at him and he kissed me quickly on the cheek.

Then he turned to Catherine. “Can I borrow that?” He asked, motioning to the gun.

“Sure,” she said.

He took the gun from Catherine’s hand, limped and stood over Robert. “You shot him already?” He asked.

“Twice,” said Catherine. “First because he was trying to get away. Second because he was really rude.”

“Nice,” John said. He pointed the gun at Robert.

“Dad,” Catherine said, “I just told you—I got him.”

“I know,” John said. He looked down at Robert.

“You stole from my wife,” he said. “You broke into our home. You said horrible things to her. That is not acceptable.”

Robert was very pale and very, very quiet.

“John,” I said, worried that he was going to kill him. “We took care of him. He doesn’t need to be shot again.”

I watched as my husband’s shoulders stiffened; he seemed to be battling between what he wanted to do and what I wanted him to do.

One tense moment later, his shoulders relaxed and he handed the gun back to Catherine. Apparently, I had won.

Then he leaned down and punched Robert out cold, probably ripping all of his stitches out.

“Nice,” Matthew said, leaning down and helping him up. “You still got it.”

Matthew handed John to me and my husband smiled at me sheepishly. “Babe. I couldn’t help myself,” he said.

“It’s okay,” I said, wrapping my arms around him. “He totally deserved it.”

“
I
still can’t believe
it was that Robert dude,” Matthew said, in between bicep curls. We were down at the barracks, having a morning workout while John worked with his physical therapist nearby.

“I know. I really thought it was Jacoby—he’s so arrogant. Robert was so unassuming,” I said, tying and retying my sneaker, so that I wouldn’t have to get up and actually exercise. “But I guess even the unassuming ones can have rage-spirals.”

“True,” Matthew said, putting down his enormous barbell. “Don’t you think you let him off kind of easy?”

“Nah,” I said. “Catherine shot him twice and we made him feel pretty dumb. I don’t think he’ll be trying to de-limbify me anytime soon. He’s too scared of her. Plus, John punched him out and made him give the necklace back.”

“That’s good. But you don’t, like…forgive him, do you?”

I looked up at him. “I don’t know,” I said. “I understand how upset he was about what happened to his mother. I don’t think it’s fair that he blamed me, but I think he was just misguided. And really angry. And when you’re misguided and really angry, you can do stupid things.”

Just then, Catherine stalked in in a full Spandex outfit and lifting gloves. She looked around the room spitefully. She still hadn’t warmed up to working out.

“Speaking of misguided,” Matthew said, watching her.

“Don’t be mean. She saved my life,” I said. “Plus, she’s your newest colleague.”

“Don’t remind me,” Matthew said through gritted teeth.

John and Ian had announced to everyone, after the gala, that Quinn & Son Enterprises would be staying in business. They’d also come up with a business proposal to include Catherine as one of the employees. Today was her first full day of training. We would be running, lifting weights and shooting things every day for the next three weeks. Then, when John was completely healed, we’d be going back out on assignment.

All of us.

“What’re you two losers doing?” Catherine asked, coming over and flopping down on the mat.

“Training,” Matthew grunted, his biceps enormous as he did a chin-up.

“Can you please not grunt near me?” She hissed, then turned to me. “Can I smoke in here?”

I just glared at her.

John came over then. He beamed at me and kissed me lightly on the cheek. To her credit, Catherine didn’t say a word or even flinch.

I hadn’t seen the proposal yet, but I was guessing he was paying her too much.

“How are you?” I asked, smiling at him.

He looked around from Matthew, to Catherine, to me.

“I’ve never been better, babe. I just got my approval from the physical therapist: I can get back to work.”

“You can do
everything
now?” I asked, clapping my hands together. There was only one thing I was thinking of.

“All clear,” John said, his eyes sparkling at me.

“Can you two go get a room? Barf,” Catherine said, glaring at us.

“You and Corey are just as bad,” Matthew said. “Actually, come to think of it, Ian and that Therese woman seem to be pretty hot and heavy now, too.”

“I noticed,” I said, still smiling.

“A room can be arranged,” John said to his daughter. He held out his hand to me and pulled me up.

“You know, you’re going to have to get used to seeing us together,” I told her, wrapping my arms around John. “We’re family, and you’re staying.”

John smiled at me and led me out of the gym. I could hear Catherine complaining to Matthew behind us.

“Are they
always
going to be this disgusting?” She asked him.

John tugged on my hand and pulled me to him. “I hope so,” he said.

I smiled back wrapped my arms around him. “Oh, we will,” I said. “Always.”

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A
ll I wanted was
a date for my stupid asshole brother’s wedding.

Not a girlfriend. Not a relationship. A
date
.

No strings. No ties. No games.

No sex.

So when I called Elena at the escort service, I was very clear.

“I want someone beautiful. Who can function at high-society events,” I said. “She needs to be able to use her silverware properly and to be discreet. I can’t have someone who gets drunk and falls down in public. Also, no one who looks cheap. I don’t want a lot of makeup and big, fake boobs.”

“I don’t have any cheap-looking girls, Mr. Preston,” Elena said. “Unless the client is into that. Then I have plenty.” She laughed.

I waited for her to finish. “I need her to be available for two weeks. I have cocktail parties, lunches, brunches, the rehearsal dinner, then the wedding. And then for some ungodly reason, my brother wants us all to go on his honeymoon to the Caribbean with him. It’s going to be the wedding from hell.”

I sighed and rubbed my temples; two weeks with my family was going to be bad enough. And now I was going to have to babysit a hooker the whole time.

But it was better than going alone. I hoped.

“She’ll need a passport. And a drug test. I don’t want any users.” I winced, remembering the last time I’d hired an escort. It had been over ten years ago, but I still clearly remembered waking up and finding her in the bathroom, shooting up in between her toes.

I went on a penicillin and no-whore diet after that.

“All my girls are drug tested,” Elena said smoothly, “and they all have passports. They have to travel frequently. It’s not a problem.” She paused for a beat. “Speaking of tests, you’re going to have to be screened for STDs. I’ll need those results emailed to me before we make the final arrangements.”

“I’m not planning on actually sleeping with her—” I said.

“Excuse me?” Elena asked.

“I don’t want to sleep with her,” I insisted. “I need her as a buffer from my family.”

“Whatever you like,” Elena said sweetly. “But she will be young and gorgeous. And completely at your disposal.”

I exhaled and stalked around my living room, my footsteps bouncing off the hardwood floors. I was dressed in a suit and ready for work. I looked out at the sun rising over Los Angeles, the light flooding my house. I didn’t want to leave here. I had everything I needed, including my favorite leather couch and an enormous flatscreen television, and nothing I didn’t, including a prostitute and my family.

I didn’t argue with the madam. Still, I had no plans to sleep with the girl I was hiring—I wanted to keep her at arm’s length, just like everyone else. I didn’t want any messy emotional entanglements. I just needed a fake relationship to keep my family at bay. No more questions about why I was alone, no more wondering or whispers. The whispers that I was gay. Or worse, that I was lonely.

The truth was that I preferred to be alone, left to my own devices. And it was nobody’s damn business.

“I’ll have my doctor send you the test results. Tomorrow. I need to get this wrapped up—I fly in on Friday, and I need her then.” All the events and the wedding were happening in Boston. Then we were all flying to Providenciales together, one big happy family.

Fuck me,
I thought. I needed a drink just running through the itinerary in my mind.

“What sort of look do you prefer?” Elena asked. “I gave you the code to look at the girls online…”

“I already did,” I said. “They all look decent. Find me one that won’t embarrass me. Find me one that’s smart. Not some hick. And no strippers. My brother can pick out a stripper from a mile away.”

“Do you have a preference for hair color?” She asked. “Build? Anything? Because you’re going to be around your family, you’ll want it to seem natural.”

I thought of my last girlfriend, Logan. She’d had stick-straight blond hair and not an ounce of fat on her toned, lithe body. And she’d been a total, complete, unending pain in my ass.

“Dark hair,” I said. “Curvy. I want someone who isn’t afraid of a steak. And who looks good in a bikini—but not
too
good, if you know what I mean. I don’t want someone who’s going to have their ass hanging out in public.
Tasteful
, Elena. I need classy.”

I rubbed my temples again. I was hiring an escort as a date to my brother’s wedding. Classy probably wasn’t a reasonable request, all things considered.

“I’ve got that,” Elena said confidently. “In fact, I think I have the perfect girl. I’ll send you over the contract. Send me that test result and your deposit.”

“How much is it, again?” I asked. The fee was astronomical, if I remembered correctly.

“The total for two weeks, including the travel, is two hundred thousand dollars.” She paused for a beat. “Half paid up front. And we’re cash-only.”

“Don’t you think your services are a bit, umm…overpriced?” I asked. “I’m not prepared to pay investment prices for a rented date.”

“You’re paying for a luxury product,” Elena said, not missing a beat. She’d heard this a thousand times from rich men who doubled as cheap bastards.

“The cost breakdown, per hour, is five hundred and ninety-five dollars. You pay your lawyer more than that, I’m sure. And he doesn’t always bend over when you tell him to.”

If I’d been capable of it, I’d be mildly chastened by that. I let her continue.

“That being said,” Elena continued, “the price I’m charging you is our standard rate. I’m not gouging you just because you’re a gazillionaire. But
do
feel free to tip generously at the end of your arrangement.”

I snorted.

“Your escort is going to be the most beautiful woman you’ve ever met. She’s going to fulfill your every fantasy—which in your case, is being the perfect date for your brother’s wedding. If you had any other fantasies”—she paused for effect—“she could fulfill those, too.” She laughed again. “But of course, you’re not interested in that.”

“Ha ha,” I said. “For that price, I might just
have
to fuck her.”
Six ways from Sunday.
I made myself stop from forming a mental picture.

“Of course,” she said. “And once you get a taste, you’ll really understand why you’re getting your money’s worth. By the way—all of our escorts are on birth control. We test them regularly to make sure they’re in compliance. So condoms are optional. Her test results are part of the contract. We guarantee healthy, clean girls. So if you’re clean, too, you can both relax and just enjoy each other.”

She paused and I squirmed, my cock stiffening at her words. It had been a long time.

Down boy,
I thought.

“We’ll see you soon, Mr. Preston. I’m looking forward to working with you.”

We hung up and I shook my head, laughing to myself a little. Two hundred thousand dollars. But the promise in her words would make any man’s dick hard. That was the point. That was why Elena’s escort service was the most successful, the most exclusive one on the East Coast. She was good at sales.

And based on the pictures she’d sent me, her employees
were
pretty hot.

I willed the stirring of my erection to go away. I was using Elena’s service because I was in a bind, not because I couldn’t get laid. I needed the perfect woman to bring to my brother’s perfect wedding.

So that everybody would leave me the fuck alone.

H
ere’s
the link to the rest of the story:
Escorting the Billionaire
.