Liberty...And Justice for All (18 page)

“
D
o
you remember how to shoot one of these things?” Corey asked, setting up the machine gun and training it on the series of low buildings at the bottom of the hill.

“I remember,” I said. I looked over at Catherine, who was lying on her stomach, looking through her scope next to me, another cigarette hanging out of her mouth. “Do
you
know how to shoot a machine gun?”

“Uh, remember who my husband was?” She asked, somehow managing to take a drag of her cigarette without using her hands. She peered through the scope. “It’s like riding a bike.”

I peered through my scope at the compound; there were three armed guards outside, that I could see, and probably more on the other side. I couldn’t see John or Matthew. They were probably climbing down the side of the hill, lucky to have the cover of darkness. It was quiet. Too quiet.

“Are we going to shoot these guys now? Or wait?” I asked, looking into my scope and hoping that I would actually be able to hit something. Someone.

“We have to wait ‘till we see some sign from John,” Corey said. “Otherwise, we’d just be giving ourselves away. We need to let them get down there, first.”

We went silent after that, waiting for a sign from them. I peered through my scope, trying to see something. A pit of dread formed in my stomach.

A few more minutes of dead quiet went by. I was holding my breath, my palms sweating, my eye on the scope. I had one of the guards in my sight. My heart was thudding in my ears.

“Come on, John,” I heard Catherine say.

Then there were shots down below. I didn’t even see where they were coming from: I just started shooting at the guards.

The one I had my scope trained on fell to the ground.
I’m so sorry God forgive me forgive me
I thought, but I kept firing, and more of the guards kept falling. I stopped for a second and pulled back, breathing raggedly.

I looked over: Catherine was blasting away, not stopping, and so was Corey. And then they both stopped. I looked back through my scope and all I saw were dead bodies on the ground. It was the guards. They were all dead.

I leaned over and threw up in between me and Catherine.

“What the fuck?” She whisper-screeched at me. “Go puke somewhere else!”

“I’m sorry,” I mumbled, wiping my face on my arm.
I’m so sorry I’m so sorry I’m so sorry
I thought, but I wasn’t thinking about Catherine. I was thinking about all those dead bodies on the ground.

Catherine turned to me. “Don’t fucking lose it right now,” she said. “We shot them so they didn’t shoot Matthew and John. So they can get in, get Mia, and get out. It was them or us.” She paused for a beat. “It’s not like you actually hit anybody, anyway.” There was a note of derision in her voice.

“I killed that one,” I said, pointing blindly down the hill at the scene below. “The man with the black skull cap on. I killed him.” I felt bile in the back of my throat again.

She snorted. “I got him. So relax. No more puking. You didn’t kill anybody. Corey and I took care of all of it.”

“
I
killed him,” I said. Now on top of feeling sick and crazed with worry and guilt, I felt indignant, like I had to prove something to her.

“Whatever,” she snapped, and lit another cigarette. She scooted another foot away from me, dragging her gun and ammo. “Don’t throw up near me again—in fact, don’t breathe in my direction until you can brush your teeth. And pay attention.”

“Someone’s pretty good at this,” Corey said to Catherine, approvingly.

“I told you—it’s like riding a bike,” she said, the cigarette clamped between her teeth and winking in the darkness.

She was scaring me even more than she usually did.

But she was the least of my worries. I turned from them, watching the scene below and holding my breath. No one had come out to check on the bodies. I wondered if John and Matthew had made it inside. I scanned the area furiously through my scope but I didn’t see their bodies sprawled down there with the rest of them. Thank God.

All of a sudden, a round of gunfire erupted right in front of us, hitting the face of the hill. Dirt flew everywhere, including into my eyes.

“Fuck!” Catherine yelled.

I shook my face and wiped at my eyes. “Did anyone see where it came from?” I asked.

“The other side of the building,” Corey yelled, and then he started firing back.

I followed his lead, shooting like crazy at the far side of the building, and so did Catherine.

More gunfire hit right next to me. It was my turn to curse. “God damn it!” I yelled, but no one could hear me, because we were all firing. Shots hit over near Corey and I fired blindly, out into the darkness.

I stopped for a moment to look through the scope. I couldn’t see anyone. “Where are they?” I hissed.

“They’re on the other side of the building,” Catherine said. “I think there’s two of them. And maybe one more behind, who keeps coming over and firing from this side.”

“What do we do?” I asked.

“I’m going down there,” Corey said. He grabbed one of the artillery weapons behind us.

“No,” I said. “Don’t!”

“I have to,” he said. “They’ll never get back up here with those guys firing. Cover me.”

He said it so casually that it made me angry.

“You heard him,” Catherine snapped, looking back through her scope. “Just make sure you don’t shoot him.”

I saw one of the guards. I trained my scope on him, but right before I pulled the trigger, Catherine pulled hers and the man crumpled to the ground.

“You’re pretty good at this,” I said, reluctantly.

“I know,” she said.

Corey must have made it down because we heard shots from behind the building. I held my breath; I hoped it was Corey who had done the shooting.

More gunfire exploded next to us, on Catherine’s left. “Fuck me,” she said, and shot back. “I think one of them is coming up here. Can you see anything?” She asked.

I used my scope and looked down the side of the hill. Nothing. But then there were more shots, right in front of my gun.

“To the left,” I said. That’s where it had come from. I looked though my scope again—down the ridge, about a thousand feet from us, was a man lying against the side of the hill.

“He’s right down there,” I said.

“Cover me. And don’t fucking shoot me,” Catherine hissed, grabbing a handgun and running, half-bent over, along the side of the ridge.

“No. Don’t,” I said, but she didn’t stop.
Oh, fuck.
I made myself look through the scope at the man.

He was aiming his gun at Catherine, who was still moving across the ridge.

I shot at him. I shot at him a
lot.
With my eyes closed.

When I opened them, I peered through the scope. He was dead. I looked up on the ridge, Catherine was running back towards me, still hunched over.

“Don’t point that fucking thing at me!” She hiss-whispered to me, slapping the gun away in the other direction. “You almost killed me back there!”

“I did not!” I said. “I killed him! I saved you!”

“
I
killed him, you idiot,” she said. “You shot up the ground between us.” She sighed in disgust and threw herself back on the ground, pulling her scope to her face.

“C’mon, c’mon,” she said, the anxiety and adrenaline rolling off her in waves.

“You really remind me of your dad right now,” I said.

“Liberty, I’m armed. Feel free to shut your mouth. I told you not to breathe near me with that skank breath, anyway.”

And then we heard more shots. A lot more shots. Followed by screams.

From inside the building.

A searing cold pain, like an ice pick to the heart, shot through me.

That was John screaming.

“That was John,” I choked out.

“Shut up,” Catherine snapped, but I heard it in her voice—she knew it was him. “Stay focused. This is it.”

I pushed the bubbling hysteria aside and looked back through my scope. I heard more shooting, but I couldn’t see it. I couldn’t see Corey or the men that had been shooting at us from the other side of the building.

And then I saw someone staggering out of the building, one body thrown over his shoulder, another body clutched in his left arm as he shot wildly into the building.

Matthew. With someone on his shoulders. And John clutched in his left arm.

“I’m going down there,” I said, and stood up.

Without missing a beat, Catherine reached over and grabbed my ankles and pulled my feet out from under me. Still in my lacy garter belt and thong, I landed on my stomach with a thud, the wind completely knocked out of me.

“What the fuck,” I croaked out.

“Shut up. You’re not going anywhere,” she said. She looked back through her scope. “Move, Matthew,” she said, lowly. “Fucking move it. Bring them up.”

I winced but staggered back up to a crouch so I could look through my scope. Matthew had a lot to deal with. His massive body staggered under the weight of the bodies he was carrying but he didn’t let go. Shots came out of the building and he hurled himself to the side of the door. He let go of John and leaned him against the wall, he didn’t remove the body from his shoulders. I saw long hair—Mia. It must be Mia, and she wasn’t moving.

John’s form was limp and he slid down the wall.

I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t even think the word
no.

“He’s not dead,” Catherine snapped, reading my shocked silence. “I saw him move. Be ready—we have to get them out.”

I watched through my scope as someone stepped out from behind the building, two hands raised.

Corey.

I couldn’t see Matthew’s face but I was pretty sure he was grinning. He made some sort of hand motion to Corey. He took Mia off his shoulders and put her gently on the ground next to John.

And then, because he was a completely crazy motherfucker, he went back into the building, firing.

Corey took the opportunity to sprint past the door and grab Mia. He threw her over his shoulders and then I watched as he dragged John up, starting up the hill.

“Be ready to shoot anything that moves,” Catherine ordered, “except them.”

More shots were fired in the building, and there were more screams.

I saw Matthew run out of the building, turning to fire behind him. Two men followed him and faster than me, Catherine fired at them immediately.

Corey was struggling to get up the hill. “I’m going down there,” I said, already running down the hill. “Don’t fucking shoot me!”

There was a lot more gunfire and I didn’t know where it was coming from, them or us, and I didn’t care. I felt like I was running underwater on my way to Corey, every step slow, ridiculously slow, like a giant was holding me back. I reached them and grabbed John’s other arm, helping us all stagger up the hill in a heap. He seemed only barely awake, trying to move but with Corey and me mostly dragging him. I couldn’t see where he’d been hit; I couldn’t talk to him, all I could do was stagger up the hill and think
Please don’t die. Please don’t die. Please don’t die.

We made it to the top and Matthew scrambled up behind us. “Get the car! Get the fucking car!” he screamed, and as Corey laid John down to wait I watched as he lost consciousness and all I thought was,
Please don’t fucking die.

“
W
e need
to get them to the hospital,” Matthew said. He’d put Mia into the car first. She was passed out and slumped over. He put John’s face gently on my lap and laid him out on the rest of the seat; the four of them were scrunched next to each other across from me. I opened up John’s shirt, looking at his wounds. One bullet in the shoulder, one in the belly. There was a lot of blood.

“I’m sorry, babe,” I said. Tears streamed down my face as I stroked his hair. “Please don’t die.”

For once, Catherine didn’t say a word. Her face was a pale mask. Matthew and Corey just looked at John, their faces not giving anything away.

I didn’t know much about this sort of stuff, but I knew my tough husband had to be in pretty bad shape if he was passed out, pale and bleeding.

Please don’t die. Please don’t die. Please don’t fucking die.

“What about her?” Corey asked, nodding at Mia.

“I don’t know,” Matthew said, shaking his head grimly. “We found her like that. She’s got a pulse, but it’s weak.”

“Aren’t they going to follow us?” Catherine asked. Her knee was bobbing up and down so violently that it was making her whole body shake.

“Yes,” Matthew said, “but not into the hospital. They’ll wait and come for us someplace more private. Call Tony,” he said to Corey. “Tell him we’ve got Mia. Tell him to close the club down, get his son, and meet us. Tell him to pack a bag—a big one, ‘cause he’s not gonna be able to come back.

“I’m gonna ask Marcus to dump the guys in the trunk after he brings us to the hospital. I don’t care what happens to them,” Matthew said.

He reached over and grabbed John’s hand. “Stay with me, boss,” he said, looking at John’s pale face. “Just a little bit longer now.”

I looked up at him. “Is he gonna die?” I asked.

“Not today,” Matthew said, his jaw clenched.

I couldn’t even answer him, or let myself hope. I leaned over my husband and put my forehead on his forehead.

“I love you, babe,” I said. “I don’t know if you can hear me, but I’m right here. Today is not your day, John. Stay with me.”

I let the tears fall from my face on to his.

T
hey met
us at the door and put John onto a stretcher, whisking him away to the ER. They took Mia, too. After that I just sat, waiting. It was like I was underwater again. Every effort of motion was a struggle; it was all I could do to stare at the wall.

Nothing had ever felt like this. Nothing had been this bad. Seeing Ian beaten and bloody, being tortured myself, holding my mother’s cold body in my hands. None of that compared to the absolute hell I was in right now.

I just wanted to go back. I had a desperate, unyielding wish that I could just go back in time. Just one day. Just to make this not real. Not John. Not my husband. Please, not today.

Not today.

I wished that blackness would take me, that I could sob, something. Any type of respite from the sick, horrible emptiness and terror.

I noticed Catherine nearby, looking at the floor. Her face was white, her skin drawn tightly. She looked up at me. Her eyes were hollowed out.

“I’m going to be so fucking pissed if he dies,” she said, but she didn’t sound it. She sounded as if she was about to break. “The fact that I never got to say sorry to him will just be one more thing for me to feel bad about for the rest of my life.”

I just stared at her, my face slack. Somewhere in my head, I made note of the fact that she was penitent. Like she wished she could have another chance.

I let myself make the note while the rest of me just sat there. I didn’t care about her right now. I didn’t care about anything, except for the waiting, the waiting and the passing of time.

N
o one came
out to see us. My cell phone had beeped a bunch of times but I ignored it; I didn’t even have the decency to call Ian right now. I couldn’t. I couldn’t talk. I wished that I was in shock, because I’d read somewhere that when you were in shock, you couldn’t feel anything and were disconnected from reality.

I’d fucking love that right now.

I looked up at the clock. It had been three hours and no one had come out to see us. I looked up and Catherine was still sitting there, staring at the floor. I swear she’d gotten up at some point to go smoke, but I couldn’t be sure. It didn’t matter. It didn’t matter and I didn’t care.

I also thought that Tony and his son had come in and talked to Matthew, but then they were gone, and I didn’t know where Matthew or Corey was, and I didn’t care about any of them.

I stared at my hands. There was blood on them. John’s.

I wasn’t going to wash them. I was going to keep it on there, to remind me not only of what I had done, but to keep him with me.

Please don’t let him die. Please don’t let him fucking die.

“Liberty,” Catherine was saying. “Do you want something to drink? I’m going to get something—I can’t just sit here anymore. I’m going to snap.”

I looked up at her like she was speaking a foreign language and just watched as she finally gave up and walked away.

Corey came in with Matthew, both of them holding coffees. Matthew sat next to me. “They come out yet?” He asked, rubbing his face.

I wanted to answer him but all I could do was shake my head no. And go back to staring at the wall.

Matthew put his hand over mine. “He’s going to be all right,” he said.

I didn’t even turn to look at him. I didn’t believe him. He didn’t know for sure. He also didn’t know the truth: that everyone I loved was taken from me, eventually.

I should never have married John. It was like I’d cursed him.

“Liberty,” he said. “Look at me.”

I just kept staring straight ahead, wishing he would go away and just leave me alone with my fear and my guilt.

But this was Matthew, and he was a natural born pain in my ass, so instead of leaving me alone he took my face in his massive hands and turned it towards him.

“What,” I said. His massive fingers were like a vice-grip.

“You have to stay positive,” Matthew said. “Seriously. He needs to feel you out here. You can’t give up. It’s important.”

“I’m the one that put him in here in the first place,” I said, my voice dead. He released my face.

“No, actually, I’m the one who did that,” he said, and for the first time I actually focused on him. He had dark circles and a harrowed look on his face, like he was struggling with a massive amount of…guilt and fear.

Even though I felt like I could barely lift my arm, I raised it and put it on his scratchy, unshaven face. “Matthew, this is on me. Not you. I’m the one who sent him in there unprepared. You’re the one who saved him.” The truth made me feel like I should start sobbing again, but I couldn’t even cry. I was in an emotional dead zone.

“I didn’t see the guy that got him,” Matthew said. “I was covering him but this guy came out of nowhere.”

“It’s not on you,” I said. “You’re always there for him. He made it out of there alive because of you.” I looked at the clock again. “How long have we been here?” I asked.

“Two hours.”

“That’s it?” I asked, confused. I could have sworn it had been longer. “And no one’s come out?”

Matthew shook his head.

“Tony was here…did you hear anything about Mia?” I asked.

“She was heavily drugged at the compound,” he said. “She’s still unconscious. Her knuckles were all bloody and one of her hands was broken—it looks like she’d tried to escape. So they must have drugged her to keep her quiet.”

“Is she gonna be okay?” I asked.

“If they don’t kill her before she gets out of town, probably,” Matthew said.

I stood up and noticed that I wasn’t shaking, wasn’t wobbling. I felt dead. “I’m going to find out what’s going on,” I said, and it was like I could barely move my lips to get the words out.

One of the nurses looked up from her computer at me. I noticed, dully, that she had warm chocolate colored skin and a smattering of freckles across her nose.

“I’m John Quinn’s wife,” I mumbled. “Is he dead?”

She gave me a worried smile. “Let me go check on him, honey. He’s in surgery, like we told you.”

“You didn’t tell me that,” I said. My words sounded slurred and thick, not bubbling with righteous anger like I felt somewhere deep inside.

She patted my hand. “You’ve had a rough night,” she said, and it was like she was talking to me through an echo chamber. “Sit down so you don’t fall. I’ll be right back, honey.”

I sat down and now I refused to look at the clock. It had been lying to me, just like that nurse.

Catherine came back into the waiting room and made a beeline towards me. “Did they say anything?”

“They’re checking,” I said. “Sit.” She was part John. I needed to be next to her.

She sank down. “I can still feel him,” she said. “I know he’s going to be okay.”

I turned to her. “
You
can feel him? ‘Cause I can’t.”

“I always can,” she said, and shrugged. “Even when I was in Mexico. I didn’t want to feel him then, but I still could. He’s not gonna die yet, Lib. I thought about it. If God wants to punish me, like he should, he’ll keep him alive.”

“I thought you said if God wants to punish you, he’ll die, so you can never say sorry.”

“I’m pretty sure God wants me to say sorry. I thought about it in the cafeteria. It’s the thing I’m the worst at. I’ve gotten pretty good at lugging around massive amounts of guilt and hiding it.”

She turned to me. “So…sorry,” she said.

I looked up and the nurse was coming towards us. I reached over and put my hand on Catherine’s arm; to her credit, she didn’t flinch. “I’m sorry, too,” I said.

The nurse stopped when she got to us. “This is John’s daughter,” I said, “so you can speak to both of us.”

The nurse sat down next to Catherine and leaned forward so I could see her face, too. “John is going to be fine,” she said, and I could feel Catherine shaking. “The bullet in his shoulder was removed without incident; we have to run a test to see if there was any nerve damage. The bullet in his stomach was harder to get but we’ve removed it and none of his intestines or major organs were hit. He should recover fully. It’s going to take some time, though. We’ll know more tomorrow when the rehabilitative team can take a look at him.”

“We probably need to move him back up to Boston,” I said. “I don’t think it’s safe for him to be here.”

The nurse nodded. “Local police will be here soon. They’ll want to take your statement.”

“Is he awake?” I asked. “Can I see him?”

“He’s sleeping,” she said. “He needs to rest. You can probably go in there in a little while.”

“Thank you,” I said, and then the tears started streaming down my face again.
Alive.
He was alive, so I felt alive again.

“He’s okay,” I said to Catherine, pulling her to me and hugging her for the first time in my life. “He’s alive.”

She didn’t hug me back but I could feel her tears. She pulled back stiffly and wiped her face before her mascara could run. “See?” she sniffed. “I told you.”

Matthew and Corey were above us then, the worry plain on their faces. Me hugging Catherine must have scared them. “He’s okay,” I said immediately.

“Oh, thank you Jesus,” Matthew said and crossed himself. He pulled me to my feet and wrapped me in a bear hug.

He released me and I looked over to see Corey leaning over Catherine, stroking her hair gently as she rested her face against him. I raised my eyebrows and looked at Matthew, who was watching them with interest.

“Corey and I—” Matthew said, and slapped Corey on the back of the head. Corey pulled away from Catherine and blinked up at us. “Corey and I can cover the lobby and the entryway. But we have to make sure that no one gets in through the staff entrance, too. We’ll have to get him out of here soon.”

“He needs to be checked out by rehab tomorrow,” I said. “And I’m sure the police are on their way. They can help.”

“Naw,” Matthew said, shaking his head. “No. We can’t trust them. And we really can’t trust that the dealers aren’t going to get at us in here. It’s not safe for us and it’s not safe for the hospital.”

“He just got shot,” I said. “Twice. He just got out of surgery twenty minutes ago. We can’t move him.”

“Yes we can,” Matthew said. “That’s why we have a doctor on staff, and a whole shitload of medical equipment back in Warwick. We can do an IV at home. We can watch his vitals. Hell, we can even hire a hot nurse if we need to.”

“Really?” I said. “Is that necessary to say right this second?”

“The hot nurse thing?” Matthew laughed. “Nah, but it feels good to get back to normal. But about leaving? That is totally fucking necessary, Liberty. They will be in here trying to kill him, and all of us, before you can say
leaving Las Vegas
. I’m calling Michael now for instructions on what to do with John on the flight. Corey, text and tell them we’re coming. Tell them to get a room ready for John. And then you need to get a charter flight.”

“He can’t fly,” I said. “He practically just died.”

“We’ll take him with an IV and whatever else Michael tells us to take.”

“Matthew—they aren’t going to release him,” I said, incredulously. “He’s not even conscious yet!”

“We’ll tell them his insurance ran out,” Matthew said. “Then they’ll probably let him go pretty quick.”

“Are we gonna wheel him out of here in his bed?”

Matthew paused for a minute. “Maybe,” he said. “But they’ve moved me in a wheelchair before. That should probably work.” He rushed off with his cell phone, barking orders at someone, back in full-military mode.

“He’s fucking crazy,” I said to Catherine.

She shrugged. “That’s not exactly news. We need to talk to Tony, though, and tell him that we’re bailing. And that he needs to get Mia out of here and do the same thing. Right away.”

I just sighed at her, in exasperation. Her time with the cartel had made her just as crazy as the rest of them. She went after Corey, probably so she could talk to him about Tony. I stood there, not knowing what to do.

Lost in my own thoughts, I was startled when the nurse came back.

“You can see your husband, now,” she said. “He’s conscious, and stable. You can have five minutes. He needs to rest.”

I nodded and shakily headed down the hall to his room. He was on the bed, hooked up to an IV and a couple of monitors. He looked vulnerable like that, under the thin blanket.

“John,” I said, and he opened his eyes.

“Babe,” he said, his clear blue eyes piercing mine.

I leaned down and kissed him, gently. “I thought you were dead,” I said. “I held you in my arms on the way here and you didn’t open your eyes.”

“I’m sorry, honey,” he said, and stroked my hair.

“
You’re
sorry? I almost got you killed, you’ve been shot twice, and
you’re
sorry?”

“I was a little hard on you, earlier,” he said. “Going tonight was the right move. We had to get her out. Is she okay? Mia?”

“She’s still asleep, I think. The cartel had been drugging her. Her hand’s broken, but other than that I think she’s okay.”

“She needs to get out of here. Tonight,” John said. He sat up a little and winced. “We both do.”

“No,” I said. “It’s not safe to move you already. You were seriously injured, John. We can’t just sneak you out of here right now.”

“I’m an adult, babe. I can voluntarily dismiss myself. And that’s exactly what I’m going to do, before the dealers show up here and try to kill me again, and kill my wife, my daughter, and my men. We’re out of here, babe.”

I sighed but refused to fight with him. Not after everything we’d just been through. “I love you so much,” I said, gently running my hands through his thick, unruly hair. “If I’d lost you…”

“You’ll never lose me,” he said, sitting up a little stiffly. “No matter what happens. We’re blood, now. Family. I could feel you, even when I couldn’t feel anything else.”

He looked up at me. “Not even death can keep us apart. I’m not afraid anymore.”

“Do you really believe that?” I asked.

“I believe it now.”

“So we really will be together…always?” I asked. My voice sounded small. That was the only thing I had ever really wanted: to be with him, forever.