Page 54 of Longing for Liberty

FORTY-THREE

STATE NEWS: VP WALINGER TO PRAY OVER THIS YEAR’S BABIES AT THE AUTUMN CHILD DEDICATION CEREMONY!

“Liberty.” Amos was right there waiting for me when the elevator doors opened, music blasting and lights flickering. He looked me over and nearly shouted over the volume, “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” I assured him.

“We should go.” He took me by the elbow to lead me back into the elevator, but I dug my heels in, panic splaying its fingers across my chest.

“Already?”

Amos’s eyes darted around us. “These gatherings can get out of control quickly.”

I took his hand and smiled up at him. “Just a tiny bit longer? I like the music.”

His gaze darted again, and I saw his chest rise and fall in a sigh. “Not too long.”

I smiled. “Want to dance?”

“Absolutely not.”

I giggled, and this earned one of his slow, side grins, which used to make my tummy wobble but now did nothing except reassure me that I had him where I needed him.

“Let’s get you another drink then,” I said.

I let him lead me to the kitchen to pour himself another cabernet while I took in the scene.

My heart gave a start when I spotted Roan dancing with two women about twelve feet from where Walinger stood at the eagle statue, his cowboy hat tipped back as he laughed at something.

Over and over, I’d thought about the order I’d shoot them in: Fitzhugh, Roan, and then Walinger.

Amos first because he would be standing closest to me after I snagged the gun and would be the first to realize what was happening.

I wasn’t sure if cocaine made people react slower or faster. If it made him faster and more alert, maybe I should shoot Walinger second? But saving Roan for last felt so dangerous. He was the one who needed to be toppled most of all.

“What are you thinking?”

I startled and forced a smile at Amos. “I used to love this song.”

“…gonna take a ride into the danger zone…”

He shook his head and scouted the dancers with a look of mild annoyance. “I’m not familiar with this music.”

How bizarre and sad to have grown up in America and not be familiar with any pop culture. Though it was now a thing of the past. It still shocked me to think that listening to 80s hits at this party was rebellious and outlawed.

Soon, maybe, people could have music again.

The thought made me irrationally happy. I swallowed hard.

From the crowd, I noticed Roan slipping away and coming toward us.

I blinked to clear my eyes. His shirtsleeves were rolled up, and he was sweating a little at his hairline.

He came straight to me, causing Amos to slip a hand around my waist and pull me closer.

I peered over Roan’s shoulder at where Walinger was still at the statue.

“How did it go?” he asked me. “The delivery.” His eyes were alight with interest, as if trying to gauge my feelings.

“It went well, sir,” I said.

“Did he talk to you?”

“Not really.” My heart was hammering. What if there really were cameras on the elevators that Amos didn’t know about?

“You should have sent someone else,” Amos grumbled.

“Nah.” Roan grabbed a beer from the counter and took a long swig before grinning at me. “Seculars can’t be shocked. Isn’t that right?”

I gave a small nod and dropped my eyes, hoping I looked demure and not like a pissed off harpy.

It bothered me how they used the word “seculars” to describe citizens not in the Order of Mercy, as if none of us had religious beliefs.

Although I suppose it made sense if they thought all religions other than theirs were false.

When “Sweet Child of Mine” came on, I glanced up at Amos to see if he showed signs of recognition, but he was only glaring at Roan, who continued to study me.

I dropped my eyes again. This would be the perfect moment for Walinger to approach.

I imagined how I’d have to move and shift from where I was standing now.

Visualizing the scene helped me mentally prepare.

Amos and Roan seemed to be having a silent conversation with their eyes.

I slipped my arm through Amos’s and peered up at him. “Want to walk around?”

He gave me a single nod and eyed Roan again. “Samuel.”

“Fitzy.”

We walked away to the outskirts of the dancers, putting us closer to Walinger—yes!

—and I needed Roan to follow. I looked back over my shoulder to find him watching us.

It creeped me out so bad that I quickly looked forward again and cursed myself.

I should have smiled, no matter how much it went against my intuition.

Anything to get all three of them closer in the room.

From the corner of my eye, I spotted a couple on the couch, the woman bouncing on his lap, and I quickly averted my eyes.

This was what Amos meant when he said the party would start to get out of hand.

I needed to hurry. Soon Roan would find a woman, or two, to occupy him, and he would tell Walinger about the “gift” in his apartment.

As if I wasn’t nervous enough already, now I felt like the clock was ticking faster.

Amos shifted beside me and grumbled something, taking out his phone. His face pinched.

“I need to take this. Find somewhere to keep out of trouble.”

I nodded, but my stomach sank. I watched him tap Walinger, and the two of them walked down the hall, disappearing into the office. Now if I could only get Roan in there, too. Speak of the devil…he was coming out of the kitchen with a full red cocktail…and he was looking right at me.

This was it. I steeled myself as he approached me.

“The Secretary and Vice President got a call, sir.”

“Did they?” He held out his arm, and I hesitated only a brief beat before slipping my hand into the crook and letting him walk us toward the hall.

Okay.

I could do this.

But when we got to the office door, he kept going. I gave his arm a light tug.

“They’re in your office, sir.”

“We didn’t get to finish our conversation.”

Oh, no. No, no, no. He was taking me back to the library. I craned my neck over my shoulder, begging the office door to open. But it stayed securely shut while Roan drew me into the library.

“Shouldn’t we wait for them, sir?” I stopped in the doorway, but he firmly pulled me in by the elbow and kicked the door shut.

“They’ll find us,” he assured me.

I turned completely to face him, my back against the wall by the door. He strolled forward and held out the drink. “For you.”

“Oh, no, please.” I held up both palms. “I’m not a drinker.”

“What a fib.” He grinned, dimples and all. “I saw you drink a glass of wine last time.”

“Yes,” I admitted. “The Secretary gave me one glass, but I never did well with liquor.”

It wasn’t a lie.

Roan stood one foot away from me. He licked his lips, and his eyes flitted over my face, down to my meager excuse for cleavage, back up to my eyes.

“Fitzy has never been a good sharer. Since childhood.”

My mouth clamped shut, and I froze. When he said nothing more, I felt like I was supposed to speak.

“He…I think he wants to honor traditions and be…” Fuck, I was fumbling.

“Blah, blah.” Roan chuckled. “He knows as well as I do that traditions and rules are important for the masses, but not the head of the order. He also knows what’s his is mine, but he’s fighting it.”

He lifted his hand to my face, and I accidentally flinched a tiny bit before forcing myself to relax.

“We, all three, have our vices. I know Fitzy’s, because Jane told me. He begged her for it, and she denied him. A wife can only deny her husband if it’s against the law, which sodomy is, of course. But guess what?”

I didn’t need to answer because he went on.

“She let me.”

My breaths were coming out fast enough through my nose that I could hear them.

“My vice is that I want everything, but now that I’m head of the order, it’s no longer a vice…it’s simply my right.” Once again, he held out the glass. “For you.”

I couldn’t deny him again. I raised a trembling hand and took the cool glass. “Thank you.” I held it now between both hands to keep steady.

“Drink it,” he said softly. “All of it.”

He was wrong that seculars couldn’t be shocked. It had never crossed my mind that Roan would somehow thwart me. Or that my night would turn into this. Because I knew if I drank this my chance was over. Despair scrubbed against my soul like sandpaper.

It’s okay.

You’ll get another chance.

There will be other parties.

My conscience tried to soothe me, but my body fought against it. I needed to accidentally drop the drink. That would buy me time. But it was as if he read my mind, because as I lifted my shaking hand, he grasped the bottom of the glass to steady it and bring it to my mouth.

Fuck!

At best, this was just a really strong drink. At worst, it was drugged. I’d never been drugged, and I hadn’t had a strong drink in years. Alcohol didn’t usually hit immediately. I’d have a bit of time before I felt lightheaded. But if it were drugged, I had no idea what to expect.

Slowly, the glass hit my lips, and I drank. He didn’t let go, pressing it up faster and making me almost gag as I began to chug. Liquid spilled from the sides of my lips, down my throat until the glass was empty, and I lowered it with a gasp, wiping my chin with the back of my hand.

Come on, Amos!

“Now let’s see what those pretty lips can do,” he said, his voice low. “On your knees.”

My eyes burned, and I hated that I couldn’t control my emotions.

Would Roan be mad if he saw that I clearly didn’t want to do this?

He set the empty glass on a shelf and pressed my shoulder downward until I bent.

I so badly wanted to cry as my knees hit the plush rug.

Roan took his time unbuckling his belt, then the button.

I watched the bulge and felt the drink wanting to come up. Yes, I should puke!

The door swung open, and I turned, looking up into Amos’s shocked, then angry face. “Eye of the Tiger” spilled in from behind him.

Amos spoke through clenched teeth. “Damn it, Samuel.”

“Language, brother.” Roan placed a hand on my head. “You can watch if you’d like.”

And then, another body slipped into the doorway beside Amos. I almost didn’t recognize him without his hat.

Walinger. His blown-out eyes widened as they went from me to Roan to Amos, and he laughed. “Well, I’ll be.”

All three of them were here.

I didn’t hesitate. I pushed to my feet. I rushed toward Amos. But it wasn’t how I imagined it would be, all sharp, exact movements. It felt…weird. Like trying to run through blobby, thick air in a dream.

“Whoa.” Amos’s arms reached out to grab me. My hand slapped against the gun’s handle, and I crashed into his torso, my legs losing feeling.

Ah, so that’s how fast a drug works…

It was my last thought.