Liberty...And Justice for All

C
opyright
© 2015 by Leigh James

All rights reserved. v.7.18.2015

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

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and D. Waganer

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T
here were
a lot of things in life I’d never expected. Marrying the love of my life, becoming a stepmother to the woman who’d held me captive and tortured me, discovering, at twenty-one, that I had four new siblings—these were all unexpected developments.

Then there was the fact that I was being held prisoner in the walk-in closet of my own home, my captor’s hands squarely around my face and neck. I hadn’t really expected that either.

“Asshole,” I said, spitting into the hand across my mouth. My captor just held me tighter. I was angry, but there was a deep, frozen river of fear beneath that anger.

My captor was scarier than I’d given them credit for.

John was on the level of the house below me, immobile in his bed. Even if I got the opportunity to scream, he might not hear me.

It was entirely possible that no one would hear me.

I screamed anyway. All that came out was a garbled muffle, my own hot breath and spit smearing against my face. All it earned me was a sharp knee in the back.

How far are they going to take this?
I wondered. I couldn’t believe they were fighting this hard.

It was
my
necklace, damn it.

And this was
my
house.

I seriously hoped that I wasn’t going to die in my walk-in closet. It was too undignified, and I already knew a lot about being undignified. In my travels thus far, I’d sort of cornered the market on it. I looked up at my captor and raised my eyebrows, as if to say,
really
?

All I got in response was a filthy look, my captor’s eyes glittering maniacally.

That was it. I decided to take matters into my own hands—er, mouth. I bit the bottom of the hand that was holding me. I bit it hard. Unfortunately, it was not hard enough to get my captor to scream or throw me to the side so that I could escape.

It was only enough to enrage them. My captor punched me in the face, and then my whole world went black.

The only thought I had time for was:
John, John…I’m so sorry.

Again.

“
T
hat’s
what you’re wearing?” Catherine asked me, scowling at my white tank top and white flowing skirt.

I looked down at my outfit. It was white and it was pretty.

It was white and it was pretty…and it was for my wedding.

“Yeah,” I said, trying to keep my tone mild. “It’s white. It’s island-y. It’s pretty—I thought your father would love it.” I felt my face start to turn red. Her father, and the fact that I was marrying him, was still a sore subject between me and Catherine.

Which had something to do with the fact that she was about my age, plus a year or two. And that her father was about my age, plus twenty years or so.

“John
obviously
doesn’t have great taste,” she said, snorting.

My face fell and she shot me a quick look. “You still look pretty, though,” she said. “It helps that you’re basically a child bride. Kind of hard to look ugly when you still have a firm bod like that.” She turned on her heel and went off to smoke another cigarette.

I watched her hobble off across the sand in her high-heels and sighed. The wedding might be even tougher for her than I’d thought. Not only was John marrying me, and not only was I younger than her, but her husband hadn’t died too long ago.

And I’d sort of killed him.

“Thanks,” I mumbled, watching her retreating form. I looked at myself in the mirror.

Deep breaths,
I thought.
After today, when you’re officially her stepmother, maybe you can ground her ass.

That brought a smile back to my face. I put on some more lip gloss and got ready to go marry the man I loved.

M
y sister Sasha
was standing up for me. She arranged my curls before we went out, tears in her eyes.

“My baby sister,” she said, sniffling. “You look so beautiful.”

My eyes filled with tears and I tried to choke them back. “Don’t you get me started,” I said, swatting her. I wasn’t sure my waterproof mascara could withstand both the humidity and a full-blown crying jag.

“Sorry,” she said.

She laughed at herself and I hugged her. There was a time, not that long ago, when I had no idea where she was and if I’d ever see her again.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” I said.

“Me, too.” She hugged me back hard and sniffled some more. “I love you, Liberty.”

“I love you, too.”

Ian was going to walk me down the aisle, a sandy swath of beach which had candles in glass boxes lining the way. They twinkled in the twilight; the sky near the horizon had turned a soft, hazy pink.

Sasha went first, clutching her flowers in one hand and wiping her face with a Kleenex with the other.

Ian squeezed my hand before we started. “This is one of the happiest days of my life, Liberty. And that’s saying something,” he said. “I’m so proud of my son, for choosing such a wonderful person to spend his life with. And I’m so happy that I get you as a daughter. You make everything better. Especially John,” he said, a bit conspiratorially. “He’s not such a pain in the ass anymore.”

I giggled and clutched his hand. “Do you think Catherine’s ever going to be okay with this?” I asked.

“Only time will tell, my dear. Only time will tell.”

I nodded, but I didn’t hold out too much hope.

I started to feel nervous and dizzy as we walked. There was a small crowd on the beach: Sasha’s boyfriend Rodney; my half-sister Alexandra and her husband Marks, and Matthew with his wife Meredith, holding their newborn baby. Corey, Sean, Ethan, Jacob and Michael, and the rest of the guys with their dates. Catherine, in her spiked heels and tight dress. The Justice of the peace, dressed casually in linen shorts, waiting to begin.

Sasha had taken her place and although she was still crying, she was smiling at me.

And then there was John.
John.
Everything stopped for me when I saw him. He was wearing a beautiful steel-gray suit—he’d insisted on wearing it in spite of the heat, to give the occasion respect. He had a white button-down shirt on underneath it, open at the neck. I saw his gorgeous, tousled hair glinting in what remained of the sunlight. And then there were his eyes, with the crinkles around the sides, and his smile so big, it lit up his entire, tanned face.

His gorgeous face.

Ian brought me to his son and then took his place next to him; John had asked him to be his best man.

Finally John grabbed my hands and when he touched me, all my nervousness melted away. He was the one. And he was here with me now, and I knew that it was forever.

I fought the urge to pinch myself.

I looked into his blue eyes and he looked calm, complete, like this was the happy ending he’d been waiting for after his long journey.

I knew exactly how that felt.

The JP walked us through our vows; I repeated them all, holding back my tears until I said “I do.” And then I full-on cried, no longer caring about my mascara. Tears of happiness streamed down my face as I clutched John’s hands.

“I do,” John said when it was his turn, his eyes shining with joy.

“I now pronounce you husband and wife,” the JP said.

We just grinned at each other for a minute. Then John took my face in his hands and, after wiping the tears away, he kissed me gently. I leaned into him, feeling his warmth, his goodness. When our kiss ended I wrapped my arms around his neck and pressed the side of my face against his.

“I love you,” I whispered.

“I love you, too, babe.” He pulled back and put his lips against my ear. “Always.”

T
he rest
of the evening passed in a happy blur. There was hugging, and cocktails, and more hugging and more cocktails. We were served an amazing dinner out on the beach, under the stars.

Everyone feasted, laughing and talking and telling stories. I was happily surprised that no one brought up how John and I had first met. I was a stripper at The Treasure Chest in Las Vegas, and he came to my club on assignment.

I didn’t know it at the time, but
I
was the assignment.

I was thrilled no one brought up stripping. The evening was perfect; even Catherine became more civil with each glass of vodka she consumed. From my experience, that would only last until her tipping point, when things would turn and get exponentially uglier.

I planned to be in bed with my hot husband long before that happened.

I got to hold Matthew’s new baby, meet Alexandra’s husband, Marks, and finally talk to Rodney. To my relief, he was very friendly and kind. He gave me a big hug.

“Congratulations,” he said, smiling at me. “I know how happy Sasha is for you.” He chatted with me easily after that, telling me about his job and his brothers and sisters.

I pulled Sasha aside afterwards. “That Rodney of yours is very nice,” I said. “I approve.”

“He
is
nice,” Sasha said, turning to him and waving. “I think I’m going to keep him.”

She turned back to me. “And you know that I approve of John, too. It took me a little while, but I know how much he loves you. I’ve never seen you like this.”

“Like what?” I asked.

“Happy. And finally getting the love and attention you deserve.” She squeezed me to her once more, and I took the opportunity to silently count my blessings, which prominently featured being reunited with my sister.

I found John and eventually we pulled away from the others. We kept touching each other and holding hands, our new bond like a shiny object we wanted to examine over and over. We watched the party from a distance.

“What sort of name is Marks?” I asked him. Marks was Alexandra’s husband and he was the one unpleasant surprise of the night. He was moody, distant, and very tan.

“A pretentious one,” John said. “I’m not sure what his problem is, but she’s way too good for him. Although he doesn’t appear to think so.” We watched as Alexandra leaned into her husband and he yawned in her face.

“Huh,” I said. “I’m thinking she could do better.”

“Did you tell her about the necklace?” John asked.

I sighed and shook my head. “Not yet. I didn’t want to spoil her weekend.”

Alexandra had delivered the enormous emerald and diamond necklace to me when we first met. My late father, Eric Kingston, had bequeathed it to me. The necklace was stolen from our home while we were here, a few days before the wedding. It was worth over a million dollars. I had no idea who could have taken it, because no one was supposed to know about it. The only person who knew was Alexandra, who wouldn’t hurt a fly.

My father, who I’d never known, had left me the necklace and a check for nine hundred thousand dollars as an inheritance. I’d also recently learned that I had four half-siblings, including Alexandra, on my father’s side.

After recently traveling to three countries, engaging in shootouts, smashing massive spiders in the jungle, killing Angel Morales and getting married to the man of my dreams, I hadn’t really processed any of this information. But the necklace had been stolen, and I intended to find out who’d done it.

After I’d enjoyed being married for more than five minutes.

Marks was looking at Alexandra, clearly annoyed, as she swayed a little on her feet. “Looks like she’s had too many mojitos,” I said.

John touched my chin and smiled at me. “Liberty—we’re on an island. It’s a wedding. There’s no such thing as too many mojitos.” He looked back over to where Marks was scowling at his wife. “He needs to relax.”

I knew the tone of his voice all too well. “Please don’t fight him,” I said. I looked at him with pleading eyes. “It’s our
wedding
.”

“It’s not a party until there’s a fight,” John said and shrugged.

We watched Marks watching my half-sister, a look of disapproval on his face.

“I don’t like him. But I won’t hit him, or have one of the guys hit him, because you said not to. And because it’s your special day,” John said, indulgently.

“Our.” I leaned up and kissed him on the lips lightly. “Our special day.”

“Yes. Yes it is.” He drew me into his arms and gave me a long, deep kiss that made me tingle all over and ache with need for him.

“And I think it’s time our day got a little more special.” He swept me up in his arms and went over to the party.

“I’m taking my wife to bed,” he called to everyone. They cheered back loudly in response. John gave them a lopsided, triumphant grin. “Enjoy the open bar but don’t stay up too late. We have to get back to work soon.” Matthew and the rest of the guys cheered at that.

John carried me all the way into our suite and over the threshold, kicking the door closed behind him. He brought me right into our bedroom and placed me gently on the bed.

I looked up at him, nervous and excited, my heart racing.

“Was today perfect for you?” He asked.

“It was perfect,” I said. “Because you’re perfect.”

“I can’t believe we’re finally married,” he said, stroking my hair. “This is what I’ve wanted since the day I met you.”

“Me too,” I said, beaming at him. “But there’s something else I want. Pretty badly.” I ran my hands down his back.

He looked down at me hungrily, his eyes hooded. He leaned over and kissed me, our tongues electric as they touched, exploring each other. I hastily took off his jacket and unbuttoned his shirt, running my hands over his chiseled, tanned chest.

He took off my shirt and then eased me out of my skirt. Even though my clothes hadn’t been that ornate, my undergarments were: I’d chosen delicate white lace underwear and a matching sheer bra, knowing he would love it. John sucked in a deep breath when he saw me. He ran his hands down my body reverently; my back arched as I shivered under his touch.

He expertly undid my bra and I slid out of my panties, eager to be naked against him.

“I love you,” he said, and kissed me. He continued to run his hands over me, stroking my breasts with his thumb until my nipples were hard and aching beneath him. I tugged on the waistband of his pants and he obeyed me, taking everything off quickly. Feeling him pressed up against me made me ache, deep inside.

There was only one thing that could satisfy that ache.

“I love you, too,” I said, somewhat desperately. I needed him. I kissed him hard, crushing him to me, and ran my hands over his body.

He pulled back and smiled at me, a smirk under the surface, because he knew exactly what I wanted.
Him.
Now.
Then he leaned down and kissed me again, slowly, and then pulled back.

It was my turn to suck in a deep breath. He wasn’t playing fair.

“John,” I said, rubbing my breasts against his naked, rock-hard chest. “Please.”

He moaned, unable to resist, and I could feel him stirring against me. I reached down and took him in my hands, feeling the wetness at his tip. He moaned again and let me stroke him, getting harder and harder, responding immediately to my practiced touch.

He got so hard so fast that I knew he was ready for me, that he needed me. I took advantage of that by moving back on the bed. I spread my legs a little and offered myself to him. I was shaking, I wanted him so badly.

“Oh my God, you’re beautiful,” he said, positioning himself above me. He ran his hands down my body and I shivered beneath him. He leaned down and took my nipple in his mouth, sucking on it, while he kneaded my other breast. I writhed beneath him as a mixture of chills and heat shot through me. I moved so that I could feel his tip against me. I rubbed against him so he could feel my wetness and I watched as he almost let himself get lost in the motion.

But he was still in control, damn him.

“Now that you’re my wife, it’s time for me to show you all the ways that you are mine,” he said. He grabbed my hands and pinned them above my head.

I wrapped my legs around him, trying to pull him into me. “Show me now,” I said, almost begging.

He kissed me, hard, and let his tip enter me.

“Oh my God, please,” I whimpered. I was so close to having him all the way inside me that it was torture.

He pulled back out.

“Keep your hands up there,” he said, releasing me. I obeyed but continued to writhe as he leaned over my body. He kissed my lips, my neck, my breasts, and worked his way down my quivering body until he got between my legs.