Liberty At Last (The Liberty Series) (44 page)

She was right. Of course she was right — that’s why she made more money than anybody else.

John looked over at me from the driver’s seat. He’d rented a sleek black Range Rover for our visit here; I hadn’t really noticed the buttery upholstery when we’d left the gilded confines of the
Byzantine.
Here, in the parking lot that my
Fiesta
had spent so much time in, it seemed exorbitant.

“You okay?” John asked.

I nodded. “I am,” I said. “I was just thinking that I never would have been able to afford this car, or even be able to rent this car, when I worked here.” I laughed. “I would have been afraid to
breathe
near this car. But when I’m with you, I just take it for granted.”

“Remember when I was just saying that we didn’t make the world?” John asked, stroking my face. “We can talk about this all more, later. There’s so much we can do to help other people. There’s so much we can do
together
.”

“Please don’t be better than you already are,” I said. “You already make the rest of us look bad. And I’m sorry to even be talking about this stuff — it’s just that being back here makes me realize how different my life is now. I had
nothing
, John,” I said, looking up at him. “And I’m not talking about the money to rent a luxury SUV.”

“The way I see it, you had
everything
,” John said and smiled. “You just didn’t know it. I’m the one who had nothing. It’s worse, you know, when you have every material possession known to mankind and you still have nothing.”

“You think it’s worse?” I asked, crinkling my nose at him in disbelief.

“Nah,” he said. “It’s way better than being poor. It just sounds better if you don’t actually say that.”

“Right,” I said, mesmerized by the opening and closing Treasure Chest on the sign. I wondered who was working tonight — Adriana, the Queen? Keisha, the Goddess? Or would I see my old friends Tracy and Nina, vying to grind it out to fund their personal lifestyle choices?

Matthew rapped on the window, breaking my reverie. He didn’t speak, but he motioned towards the back of the building, and John nodded.

“Ready?” John asked, turning back to me.

“Is he here?” I asked. “Darius?”

“No, not yet,” John said. “But Cruz is on his way. I have Kevin and Corey over at Cruz’s house. One will stay, one will follow him here. So Liberty,” he said, cupping my face in his hands, “this could turn into a shootout. I shouldn’t say could — I can tell you absolutely that it will. I don’t think Darius cares if he leaves here alive, as long as he’s killed Cruz. And he’ll kill as many other people as he has to. He probably
wants
to kill me, and you, and all of us.”

“Great,” I said sarcastically, looking at him. “What about all the people in there tonight?” I asked, motioning towards the club.

“I would have closed it already, but I need to lure him out. Darius wants a shot at Cruz,” he said. “He’s willing to die, I think, but not until he gets one. He won’t just walk into a setup.” I continued to look at him. I’d known this was coming, but I would have preferred to have a shootout in the forest of Brazil, much as I’d despised it. At least no one I knew was there.

“Liberty, there’s seven of us. Plus Cruz, who’s always armed these days. Darius probably has no one with him, because this is personal, and Darius doesn’t have enough of a following. No one else is crazy enough to die for bad blood between brothers. I’m not even worried about it,” John said. “I know that probably sounds crazy to you, and I understand. But I’ve done this a hundred times. Worst case scenario is that he’s planted a bomb somewhere, or plans to throw one, but the guys are checking that right now. We’ll have the premises secured after that.” He said this easily, calmly, as if he was discussing the font on a report he was working on.

“Darius is small potatoes, babe. Crazy, dangerous small potatoes, but still…anything this personal is scary, I will admit. Darius will do anything to kill Cruz now. He feels like Cruz ruined his life, his name. If it were just money, he might back down. But it’s beyond that.”

“Is this a pep-talk?” I asked. “Because it isn’t making me feel any better.” I didn’t say anything for a beat. “And calling Darius ‘small potatoes’ — really?” I asked. “You said the same thing about Ray, and that made sense to me. But Darius has gotten away from you, twice,” I said, and watched as he winced a little, because he didn’t like to be wrong. But I had to remind Mr. Casual Badass that Darius had been a tricky foe along the way. He hadn’t broken when he’d been held prisoner, even though he’d been beaten and shot; he’d lied to John about his intentions when John let him go; he’d eluded John’s men when he went back to Brazil and tricked us again by leading us out into the forest while he hopped on a plane back here.

“So you think Darius is going to just pop in, try to shoot Cruz, and let you get him now?” I asked. “Sounds too easy to me. And nothing with him has been easy.”

“It’ll be easier than you think,” John said. He started packing his gear up and I dutifully followed suit, even though the knot was back in my stomach, heavier than ever.

“When was the last time they talked?” I asked, wondering about Darius and Cruz.

“I don’t know,” John said. “I think it may have been over a year ago. When Cruz left the business, they had a huge falling out. Then I think the only communication they’ve had are threats. Cruz hired us after that. As far as I know, they’ve cut off all communication.”

I’d still never met Cruz, but if he was
anything
like his brother, he had to be at least a little scary. And stubborn. “Is there any way we can try to get them to talk? Before we all just start killing each other, I mean?” I asked.
It was a simplistic question, but really, I was dealing with all men here.
I’d noticed that men — particularly these men, and the ones we were here for, who all had big muscles and big guns — had a tendency to skip the talking part. They liked to just get to the action part. So they could use their big muscles and their big guns.

I thought about Ray. When we were getting ready to catch him, I’d wanted nothing more than to hurt him, the way he’d hurt me. I had an idea in my head that it would cure me. That hurting him would make my hurt go away. Once we got him and I talked to him, I hated him as much as I ever did. But hearing what he had to say made me realize that hurting him was never going to help me. There are some wrongs you can’t undo. But as my mother used to say, when Sasha and I were little and fighting — back when she was intermittently sober enough to still talk straight:
two wrongs don’t make a right.

I didn’t think that logic would get us anywhere with Darius, or with Cruz, for that matter. But couldn’t we try to get them to talk? Before they ended each other?

“You want them to
talk
?” John asked, not looking at me as he strapped one of his guns on. I could hear it in his voice. He thought I was nuts. “Even after they’ve tried to kill each other multiple times? You think that talking might help?”

“Yes,” I said. I figured it couldn’t hurt to try. I could at least buy some time before the shooting started. Maybe I could come up with a Plan B before that, so I could put off the bloodshed for a while longer.

“Liberty, I am in charge here, and I don’t think trying to get Cruz and Darius to have a sit-down is either reasonable or a very good idea. We need to just end this,” he said. “They hate each other. They want to kill each other, and it’s been this way for a long time. I don’t think any purpose is going to be served by them having tea,” he said, scoffing.

“I just thought we could try,” I said, my voice sounding full of tears. “Once you’re dead, you’re dead — you don’t get a chance to talk after that. What’s wrong with at least making an effort?” I sounded like a whiny child to my own ears, but I couldn’t bear the idea of just shooting Darius at first sight. He couldn’t be all bad.

“You know I won’t say no to you,” John said, looking at me unhappily.

“I know,” I said, and smiled at him sweetly, hating myself for how manipulative I was being.
Means to an end
, I told myself.
Less violence is good less violence,
I thought,
or something like that.

“This isn’t going to go over well with Cruz,” he said.

“So don’t tell him,” I said, and shrugged. “Just don’t let him shoot Darius and don’t let Darius shoot him. Stick them both in a room —
supervised
, of course — and make them talk.”

“You really think that’s going to accomplish something?” John asked. He’d gone from looking unhappy to looking resigned.

“I consider it part of our due diligence,” I said. “I’m part of the team, right? So my vote should count for something.” I wouldn’t normally be so manipulative, but people were about to get shot at.
John
was about to get shot at. I’d play any card I had.

“Of course your vote counts,” John said. “But I can’t promise anyone’s going to be happy about it.”

Matthew had done a complete perimeter scan. Jake had checked the interior for any sort of devices. The club was clean, so far. John was getting texts from Corey. Cruz was on his way and Kevin was watching the house. Everything was quiet. Too quiet. Calm before the storm quiet. Even though it was at least 65 degrees, I was shivering. It was the adrenaline coursing through my body.

We were out back, near the dumpsters, just as John had promised. Jake was inside now, acting as a bouncer, watching for Darius or anything else unusual. “Cruz’ll be here in a few minutes,” John said, walking back. “I’m going into the club. Out back in the changing room, where I can’t be seen. Liberty, you’re with me.”

“Of course,” I said, following him into the staff entrance. It was so weird to be back, to go through the familiar door. But I didn’t have to go out and dance tonight, and that was a relief. Except for the fact that there was probably going to be some shooting.
Not as much relief when I put it that way.

“They’re probably going to be surprised to see you,” John said. “Try to keep it on an even keel. They don’t know why we’re here. They just know we’re extra security.”

“Okay,” I said, as we went down the hallway towards the locker room. Alex’s office was first; John knocked on the open door and Alex looked up from his computer.

He looked the same: spray-on tan, overly whitened teeth, jeans that were preternaturally distressed. “Hey,” he said, recognizing John immediately. “
Hey
,” he said, and stood up when he saw me. “Liberty? You’re back! Does this mean you’re
back
?”

John stepped slightly in front of me. Alex was tall, but John was taller, bigger. I could feel hostility rolling off him in waves.

“She’s not ever coming back. Not like that,” he said, and Alex, used to dealing with violent, drunken patrons and lord knew what else, composed his expression immediately.

“Of course not,” he said, peering at me over John’s shoulder. “Civilian life looks like it’s treating you good, though,” he said, his eyes shifting to John briefly. “It’s nice to see you. The girls will be happy you’re checking in. We were all wondering what happened to you.”

“It’ll be good to see them,” I said, leaning up on my toes so I could see his face. John didn’t move and inch, he just clenched his fist; maybe the whole stripping thing bothered him more than he’d let on, or maybe Alex just seemed so sleazy to him that he didn’t want him near me. In any event, I was happy that we were going to see the girls. John seemed like he wanted to punch Alex, just for the hell of it, or just because Alex had seen me naked and was now attempting to talk to me. I knew a hostile John when I saw him.

“Let’s go,” I said, grabbing his hand.

“We’re going to use the locker room for interior security,” John said to Alex, jerking his thumb in that direction down the hall. “Cruz will be here in a minute. Tell him we’re in there, please.”

Alex nodded, his gaze flicking to me one last time. “Sure,” he said. “If I don’t see you, take care, Liberty,” he said. “You’re one of our success stories. Something to tell the other girls about.”

I heard John sigh as I pulled him down the hall; I knew that look on his face. “He’s harmless,” I said. “He never touched me. Forget about it.”

“I don’t want a man like that looking at you, or talking about you,” he said. The hand I wasn’t holding was still clenched into a fist.

“We’re done with him,” I said. “We’re walking away from him and his bad jeans, forever.” He sighed again and I stopped, putting my hands on my hips. “You need to stop wanting to punch and shoot so many people,” I said. “It’s macho, and that’s hot and all, but it’s exhausting. You need an outlet.”

He pulled me up against him, and I could feel all six feet and two inches of his tall, muscled body pressing against mine. “You’re my outlet,” John said. “I’m going to be needing that hot body of yours every day, several times a day, for the rest of my life. Maybe
then
I’ll calm down a little.”

“Deal,” I squeaked. I felt a piercing need between my legs, wanting him again, but I had to get a grip. “
Later
,” I said, grabbing his hand again. “I promise.” I pulled away from him; we had other business we had to take care of first.