Liberty...And Justice for All (9 page)

“
La Miel
,” John said. “It’s upscale. Wear a dress.” He was putting one of his gorgeous suits on.

“Why are we going someplace so fancy?” I huffed. John knew I preferred burgers and beers, or at the high-end, grilled flatbreads and wine. If the menu didn’t have a grilled chicken Caesar salad on it, the food was probably over my head.

He looked at me and gave me a small smile. “You know,” he said.

“Ah,” I said, knowing he meant his daughter. “Let’s just hope Her Highness is sober enough to adjust her gladiator-heel straps.”

“How’s she been?” John asked, and I could hear him trying to sound less interested than he was.

I went to him and knotted his tie, the way he’d shown me. It was one of the new duties I was enjoying as his wife. “She’s been okay,” I said, wondering if I should tell him about Jacoby.

“And her drinking?” He asked.

“It’s completely out of control,” I admitted. “So I guess that means it’s the same. She’s drinking, and she’s smoking, and she’s not sorry about any of it.”

“During the day?” John asked.

I shrugged. “Here and there,” I said. “At night, though, it’s a lot. She’s probably sad.”

John looked at me. “About Angel?”

“I think so,” I said. “She doesn’t talk about it at all. Not to me. But she said I owe her a husband.”

He gave me wry smile.

“John, the thing is…”

“What,” he said.

“She slept with Jacoby.” I winced as I saw him recoil, as if from a blow. “I’m sorry—but I don’t want to keep any more secrets from you. That note was bad enough. You need to know what’s going on with her.”

He sighed and watched me get dressed. “At least you’re here—and you’re wearing that sexy black bra I like. That at least takes the edge off things.”

I slipped a simple black dress over my head and started putting on my makeup. “In her defense, Jacoby
is
her type. Handsome, well-dressed, trendy. Unpleasant.” I caught John’s eye in the mirror and his frown mirrored mine. “She snuck out to meet him while we were in Charleston. But at least she admitted it to me, afterwards. That’s something.”

“Does Matthew know?”

“She told us both,” I said. “He thought it was pretty hysterical, ‘cause it’s my half-brother.”

“Oh, he would. I’m never going to hear the end of this,” he said.

“That’s not true. Matthew doesn’t want to make you anymore upset than you already are. He’s a parent. He gets it.”

“What else do I need to know?” He didn’t look like he needed to hear much more.

I thought about the bartender in Portsmouth, and how Catherine had flirted with him. She would have stayed with him if we’d let her. I turned back to the mirror and focused on putting my mascara on. John didn’t need to know every sordid detail. I’d watch her while we were here, and if I saw anything and thought that it was part of a larger pattern, I’d tell him then.

Gently.

“Catherine tried to beat up Matthew, but I pulled her off him,” I said.

“That everything?”

“That’s enough, right?”

In response, he just took another swig of bourbon.

L
a Miel
was
Spanish for honey, and they used it to great affect at the restaurant. The food was, as I predicted, completely over my head, but I had a drink with a piece of honeycomb in it that was delicious. Delicious I understood. I made John order for me and I didn’t care if Catherine thought I was a rube.

I
was
a rube.

Catherine ordered everything in fluent Spanish, of course, a fact that none of us commented on. And she ordered several of the honeycomb martinis, but she seemed to be enjoying herself and wasn’t slurring her words, so none of us commented on that, either.

“So,” Corey said to John. “Your case down here? Is it going well?”

“No,” John said and frowned. “I’ll brief you on it later. I’d love some help while you’re down here.”

“Of course,” Corey said.

“Actually, maybe you can come to the club with me after dinner. That is, Liberty, if you don’t mind taking Catherine home.”

“Club?” Catherine asked, perking up noticeably. “We’ll go, too.” She looked down at her dress, black with leather patches and exposed zippers, which hugged her every curve. “This dress needs to see a club tonight.”

“Not this club,” John said. “It’s not a place for ladies.”

“Then we’re definitely coming,” she said, giving her father a challenging look. “Because I’m no lady—and even though Liberty’s sort of a prude, last time I checked, she wasn’t one either.”

“Ha ha,” I said, and shook my head at her. “But John’s right—Fierce isn’t a place we want to go to. It’s a little scary.”

“It’s named Fierce? My dress is freakin’ perfect for that—it’s decided,” Catherine said, finishing her drink. “I need scary. Rhode Island’s been putting me to sleep lately.” She turned to Corey and batted her eyes at him. “You’re up for watching out for me, aren’t you, big guy?”

Corey’s cheeks flamed as he nodded at her, trying to be polite but not too eager. “Of course. That’s why I’m here,” he practically stammered.

“Catherine,” John said, in a warning tone.

She snorted at him. “Don’t start. Liberty already threatened to ground me. I’m your
guest
. I think you two owe me a good time, at this point. It’s the least you can do.”

I sighed and counted backwards from ten, so I didn’t jump across the table and strangle her.

I
did
kill her husband, after all.

But she’d totally told me to.

I wasn’t sure how much longer she was going to play the guilt card. Maybe it would be like the card games here in Vegas, and go on forever, every hour of every day.

I really freaking hoped not. I wasn’t sure how much patience I had left.

“
Y
ou need
to learn to say no to her,” I told John. We were waiting in the lobby for Catherine and Corey.

“I did say no to her. She just overrode me,” he said. He turned to me, his eyes pleading. “Don’t be angry at me. I’m trying my best here. You know how difficult she is.”

“Um, yeah. I have some experience with that.” I thought about the scars I had on my forearms from her and I found myself counting backwards again.

From one hundred.

Catherine sashayed out and Corey held the door open for her. A look passed between him and John; I imagined that John was giving Corey his tacit approval to pay attention to his daughter. Attention and nothing else. Corey would behave, I knew. He was always concerned with staying relatively sober so he could get up and maximize his workout the next morning. And he was loyal to John.

Catherine would probably try something with him, but she would probably meet someone much more appealing, and dangerous, at Fierce. “Stay with her,” I said to Corey, as we got into the back of the limousine.

“John already told me,” Corey said. “I won’t let her out of my sight.”

“And don’t sleep with her,” I said.

“Jesus, Liberty,” Corey said. “Like I would do that.”

“It’s not you I’m worried about.”

We drove along the Strip to the club. The streets were teeming with people, many of whom were carrying enormous drinks. Catherine sat with her legs crossed, knee bobbing up and down, nervous energy rolling off of her in waves.

“Can we do that briefing now?” Corey asked John. He nodded towards the driver and John rolled up the privacy window.

“Like I told Liberty earlier—our client is the club’s owner. He’s not necessarily the nicest guy, but he’s trying to do the right thing. He was previously engaged in commerce with one of the local suppliers. There’s been a disagreement over terms. You know why I’m here.”

Corey nodded. “Has there been any news on that front?”

John shook his head,
no.
“They’re supposed to have a meeting soon. Maybe tomorrow.” John turned to me. “How long are you staying for?” He asked.

“As long as you want,” I said. “I told Matthew to take a couple of days. There’s not a lot of urgency on the necklace case right now. I have no idea what I’m doing.”

Catherine snorted and rolled her eyes. “You can say that again,” she said.

“It’s not like you were helping matters,” I said. “You’re supposed to be doing something, besides checking your cuticles and—” I stopped myself before I said
and sleeping with my half-brother.
Catherine just gave me a filthy look. Corey sat there, like Switzerland, not taking a side.

“We’re here,” John said, breaking the tension, as we pulled up to the curb outside of Fierce. A line snaked down the street; the clientele looked to be fifty percent curious tourists, fifty percent people who looked like regulars, wearing black and waiting calmly. The bouncer, an enormous man with a bald, gleaming head, motioned to us as we climbed out of the car.

“Good to see you, man,” he said, and clapped John on the back. “Tony’s in the back. They can’t come with you.” He nodded at us.

“This is my wife,” John said, putting his arm protectively around me. “She’s my partner. Tony is expecting both of us, as well as my associates.” He motioned to Corey and Catherine.

“All right,” the bouncer said, looking at me in my conservative dress. “You sure you want to take her back there?”

“I used to work in town,” I said, and smiled at him. “I’ll be okay.”

“If you say so,” he said, and let us in, ahead of the enormous line. “Have a good time.”

“What’s back there?” Catherine asked John as we went through the door.

“Nothing you need to see,” John said.

“It sounds very VIP,” she said. “I’m in.” Excitement glittered in her eyes.

“No. You. Are. Not. Corey,” John said, “please take my daughter to the bar. Buy her as many drinks as she wants, but make sure she stays put.” He turned back to Catherine. “Enjoy the show.”

She rolled her eyes in exasperation but let Corey lead her into the crowded club.

I patted John on the back. “Good job,” I said.

“Right,” he said. “I just told Corey to ply her with alcohol so she’d stay out of the S&M part of the club. I’m an
outstanding
father.”

I smoothed his tie. “You’re better than you know.”
Better than she deserves,
I thought. I shook the thoughts off. The club was beckoning, dark with pounding music. I peered into the room where Corey and Catherine went: girls working the poles, girls on the floor.

I was so relieved I wasn’t one of them.

“This way,” John said, and pulled me down a dark hallway. It was empty except for security; large, beefy men who stood silently watching. There were a lot of them. Not like The Treasure Chest, where we’d just had a couple of bouncers and Alex, the manager.

Fierce was a much bigger deal. Two men passed us on their way down the hall; they were well dressed, drinks and unlit cigars in their hands, talking quietly to each other and laughing.

I wondered what it was that they’d just enjoyed.

I looked at John nervously. “There are offices down this hall, and private dance rooms. The S&M room is through there,” he said, motioning down the hall to the left. “It’s supposed to be for members only, but Tony says sometimes people pay the fee and only come once.”

“How much is the fee?” I asked.

“A lot,” John said. “It’s crazy.”

“What do they actually do in there?” I asked. From the rumors I’d heard, there were two different rooms. One for “play”—although I don’t know why it was called that, when it involved whips and handcuffs and other related items—and one for play plus sex. Real sex. That’s what we’d always heard through the stripper grapevine, but I wasn’t sure it was true. Sex in clubs was completely illegal, and Fierce had been around for at least four years. But the rumors still swirled…

“Some different stuff,” John said, and squeezed my hand.

“Have you been in?” I asked.

“Just during the day, babe, when Tony was giving me the tour. It’s not my thing.”

Phew,
I thought, because whips and handcuffs and all sorts of things that I couldn’t even imagine were
so
not my thing. I didn’t even have a thing. I just liked John’s hot body. That was enough excitement for me.

“It’s popular, though,” John said. “Very lucrative. Tony said that more than two-thirds of the club’s profit comes just from the membership.”

“Are there separate girls who work there?” I asked.

“Yes,” John said. Just then, the door to the room opened and I caught a glimpse of a woman, my age, with long dark hair, dragging a whip up and down the body of a man who was standing up, his arms and legs chained to the wall. I heard moaning.

“Sweet mother of Jesus,” I said to John as the door quickly closed. “These people are crazy.”

“These people,” said a man who suddenly appeared next to me, “are my clients.”

I jumped. “Sorry,” I said, laughing nervously. “I didn’t see you there—I was, er, taking in the view. I’m Liberty Quinn. John’s wife,” I said, offering him my hand. “You must be Tony.”

“Guilty as charged,” he said, and I took an instant dislike to him. He had over-gelled hair, over-bleached teeth, a fancy dinner jacket made out of over-shiny fabric. He was very Vegas, and I was very over Vegas.

“I’m sorry if you disapprove,” he said, motioning to the room.

“I’m not judging,” I said, even though I totally was.

“Come with me,” he said, and brought us into his office. It was modern, all sleek and chrome. “Please, sit.”

“Have you heard anything new?” John asked.

“Just now,” Tony said. “They texted me from a blocked number. They want to meet tomorrow morning. I have to bring cash. They said that Mia was alive, but that I can’t see her. They said I won’t be getting her back until they’ve been fully recompensed. That won’t be tomorrow.”

John nodded. “We need to get a firm number from them tomorrow. And then you need to get the money together. We need to get her back. As for tomorrow, we’re going to have to ask to see her. No proof of life, no money.”

“I can’t get in touch with them,” Tony said.

“We’ll tell them tomorrow. We’ll make them text us a picture of Mia holding tomorrow’s newspaper,” John said.

Tony looked pale. “I don’t know what I’m going to do if they kill her,” he said. “My son…”

“We’ll get Mia back,” John said. “But you’re going to have to figure things out after that. It’s not going to be easy. Or particularly pleasant.”

Tony nodded. “They aren’t going to just let me out of our arrangement. They’re not going to let me stop selling.”

“No,” John said. “You’re either going to have to keep the relationship or leave town. And they might not let you go.”

“Maybe we can fight fire with fire,” Tony said, and shrugged. “I’m pretty sure that someone’s still selling their drugs here. I think they’ve been rotating new guys in that I don’t know. What I do know is that some of the girls are heavy users and they’re still getting high. And they aren’t telling me how.”

“We’ll look into it. We can watch the security tapes. Let’s see how things go tomorrow.”

We all stood up and Tony smiled tightly at me, ever the Vegas gentleman. “Please, go have a drink in the lounge. I’ll have a banquette set for you. I’ll tell the girls not to bother you. That you’re just here to relax.”

“Thank you,” John said, shaking his hand. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

We searched for Corey and Catherine when we got to the bar. It was close to one a.m. and the club was packed, teeming with men and some wives or girlfriends taking in the scene. And what a scene it was.

Fierce made The Treasure Chest look like Sesame Street.

The room was huge, dark, and lit with what looked like torches on the walls. Enormous, gothic chandeliers adorned the ceilings. The only hint of color was the lavender couches that dotted the room, piled with men and the women on top of them. By my count, there were at least twenty lap dances taking place in the room.

I saw quite a few sequined thongs. Half-naked women stalked by on spiked heels, every one of them gorgeous, exotic, perfect. The cocktails were large, in huge tumblers and martini glasses. The place reeked of the possibility of sex. I felt like I needed to cross my legs just because I was standing in there.

I turned to John. “This is, uh…”

“Intense?” John asked.

I nodded at him. “It’s very…sexy.”

John laughed. “If you’re into that sort of thing,” he said. “I’m only into my hot wife. My
wicked
hot wife.” He pulled me to him. “I wouldn’t trade a thousand sparkly thongs for your fine ass, my dear.” He cupped mine just to prove it. I pressed myself against him and ran my hands through his hair.

Of course, that’s when Catherine stumbled up to us.

“Oh, gross,” she said, teetering on her mile-high gladiator heels. “Get a room—oh that’s right, you already have one. And it’s right next to mine. Ugh.” She wrinkled her nose.

“Enough,” I snapped at her, disengaging myself from her father. I watched as she wobbled, trying to keep her balance. “Christ, how much have you had to drink? We’ve only been gone for fifteen minutes!”

Just then Corey came over and he gave Catherine a scathing look. “Please tell me if you’re going somewhere,” he said to her. “I was just all over this place looking for you.”

She shrugged and it made her totter. Corey grabbed her arm to steady her while John just watched.

“You need to get your shit together,” he said.

She looked like she was about to have a really good comeback but we were interrupted by a gorgeous hostess. She was tall, dark-skinned, with a long ponytail pulled to the side. “Tony has a table for you,” she said to John. “Are you ready?”

“Actually, I think we’re going to call it a night,” he said. “My daughter’s not feeling well. But tell him I appreciate it, and I’ll see him tomorrow.”

She smiled and was gone, and we were left with Catherine and her big, fat frown. “It’s one a.m. It’s Vegas. I’m not going home.”

“Oh yes you are, young lady,” John said. “I’ve had quite enough of this routine.”

She laughed. “Oh, that’s typical,” she said, as John dragged her out of the club, followed closely by me and Corey. “You’ve been around me for less than a few hours and you’ve already had enough.”

John stopped. He looked like she’d slapped him. “That’s not fair.”

“The truth hurts,” she said, and lit a cigarette on the sidewalk. “Corey, let’s get a cab. I feel like playing some blackjack.”

She gave John another filthy look. “Since you can’t stand to be around me anymore, I guess you won’t mind saying goodnight.”

She walked to the curb unsteadily and Corey just looked at John. “What do you want me to do?” he mumbled, miserable and embarrassed.

“Do whatever she wants,” John snapped. “But I’m going to need you first thing in the morning.”

Corey and I exchanged looks and I watched as he went to Catherine, steadying her. They hailed a cab and were gone, Catherine’s cigarette hanging out of the window, red and winking, as the car was swallowed by the traffic on the Strip.

John wouldn’t look at me. I didn’t push him. I just held his hand out there, under the over-the-top lights of the Strip.

I
n the back
of the limousine, I tried to take his mind off of Catherine. “Do you think the dealers will cooperate about sending a picture of Mia? Are you worried about it?” I asked.

John smiled, a little. “That’s actually the least of my worries.”

We drove the rest of the way back to the hotel in silence. He grabbed my hand and pulled me up outside of the Byzantine. “I should go. I need to do some surveillance of their compound again tonight. And I have a source I need to contact,” John said. “I’ll have the driver take me to my rental car. I’ll be back late—don’t wait up for me.”

I held his hand, not letting him get back in the car.

“I need you to go upstairs, where it’s safe. I’ll be back as soon as I can. Promise me you’ll do what I say. For once,” he said.