Saving Liberty (Kissing #6)

by Helena Newbury

  If I stayed cold and wet for much longer, I was at risk of exposure. I had to get somewhere warm... could I do what Kian had done and rent a motel room, if I kept my hood up and didn’t look at anyone? I knew I couldn’t use a credit card because they might be monitoring it, but if I paid cash—

  I stopped in my tracks. What cash? I suddenly realized I had nothing: my purse was in the museum somewhere. I didn’t have a dime on me.

  I forced myself to start walking again because I knew that, if I didn’t, I was going to just sink to the ground and curl up and go to sleep, and if I let that happen I’d die there.

  Eventually, I saw lights ahead of me and the trash started to thin out. I was approaching a road: I had no choice but to cross it. I kept my head bowed, letting the hood cover my face, and willed myself not to look up: I didn’t know if there were cameras on the street but, if I looked up to check and saw one, it would be too late.

  Waiting to cross was terrifying. Every set of headlights that swept towards me could be Kerrigan’s people, about to screech to a stop and pull me in. Every set of footsteps I heard could be one of them. And I couldn’t even look up to see.

  This is what it’s going to be like for everyone, when Kerrigan goes through with his plan, I realized. Not if, when. Because who was going to stop him now?

  I hurried across the street. The rain was so heavy that the water was sloshing over my toes but I was already so cold, I barely noticed. My teeth had stopped chattering and I wasn’t shaking so much... I just felt sleepy. Wasn’t that supposed to be a bad sign?

  And then I smelled something that made no sense: soup. Tomato soup. I glanced furtively around but there were no restaurants, at least none that were open at this hour.

  I heard voices, too. I followed them along the street and then into an alley. And there, in a vacant lot behind some buildings, I found a crowd of twenty or so people standing around sipping paper cups of soup. A ragged tent that might have belonged to the army about fifty years ago sheltered a couple more people and they were ladling soup into cups. I stumbled closer. I had no plan in mind: my legs just instinctively carried me forward.

  One of the two people serving glanced up and saw me. I immediately looked at the ground, hiding my face. “Hungry?” she asked. I’d had a quick glimpse of a woman in her sixties, with short dark hair.

  I didn’t know whether I dared speak. Would she recognize my voice? “I don’t, um... have any money,” I mumbled.

  “It’s free, honey.” Her voice was gentle. Something in my voice must have told her I was ready to bolt.

  I slowly came closer and reached out my hands. She slipped a cup of soup between my palms and I looked down at it in wonder. I could feel the heat throbbing out of it and creeping through my body. My hands stung as they thawed but I welcomed it: pain meant I was alive. And the smell of the soup was even better. I realized I hadn’t eaten in about sixteen hours. “Thank you,” I croaked. I wanted to look at her, wanted her to see how grateful I was, but I didn’t dare.

  “That’s okay, honey,” she said. “There’s a dry spot over there if you need somewhere to sit.”

  I looked around and found the concrete steps she was talking about. The overhang of a building protected them: they were hard and freezing cold but it was such a blessed relief to be out of the rain for a few minutes that I didn’t care. I sipped the soup and then gulped it, finishing the whole thing in seconds and then panting as the warm glow spread through me. The sleepy feeling went away for a moment but then came back. What I really needed now was a place to warm up and crash.

  A hand touched my shoulder and I jerked around, startled. A guy around my age with sandy-blond hair. I’d looked him in the face before I could stop myself. Shit! But he didn’t seem to recognize me. “You got somewhere to sleep?” he asked.

  I shook my head dumbly.

  “C’mon. I know a spot. Nice and warm.”

  He took my hand, just like Kian used to, and drew me to my feet. Something in my brain started screaming at me but it was so very far away and I was so cold.

  The guy led me around the back of the building and moved a board out of the way to reveal the dark, gaping maw of an empty window. I climbed through and, inside, it was warmer. And around the corner I found blankets and a tiny battery-powered lantern.

  “There,” he said, grinning. “See?” He put his hand on my cheek, his warmth throbbing into me. “We’ll be all cozy, afterwards.”

  Afterwards? My brain was still screaming at me. He wasn’t like the woman serving soup. He wasn’t dressed like her or like one of the homeless, more like a college kid slumming it.

  “Let’s get you unwrapped,” he said. And lifted the hem of my dripping hooded top. He had it almost to my breasts before I realized what was going on and slapped his hand away.

  He sighed as if I was being ungrateful and then his hand cracked across my face so hard I spun to the side and fell to my knees. Too late, I tuned into the warning cries in my brain. I saw him now for what he was. He knew when the soup kitchen came around and he’d had this spot all picked out and ready. He’d waited for a lone woman he could tempt away from the pack….

  He grabbed me by the shoulders and hauled me up. The fear spread through my chilled body, making my limbs heavy. This was exactly what I’d always dreaded: alone, with no one to help me and a man about to hurt me.

  Kian isn’t here.

  The man started to lift my top again.

  Kian isn’t here.

  He stepped closer so that he could haul the dripping fabric up my back.

  Kian isn’t here. The black fear overwhelmed me, spilling down into my lungs and killing my screams. It wasn’t just what the man was about to do to me: it was that everything was over. Kian was gone. My country was gone. My dad was gone. Why not just give up?

  But….

  Time seemed to slow down. My whole body was filled with the black fear, churning and surging like the depths of the ocean. But right at the center of my chest there was a pinprick of light that refused to go out. A deep, rough-hewn voice with a trace of Irish silver. I’ll be right here with you, Emily.

  Kian couldn’t be with me. But, somehow, he was still there.

  I felt my top catch on my breasts, about to rise higher, and I suddenly knew what I had to do. I stepped forward, my leg between his and pressed up against his thigh. And then twisted my hips and brought my knee up as hard as I could.

  He screamed a horrible, choking scream and folded, his hands going to his crotch. By the time he collapsed to the floor, I was already at the window. That tiny point of light was expanding faster and faster, pushing back the blackness. I climbed out into the night. I was still cold, still exhausted but I no longer felt alone. Kian was with me. He’d always be with me.

  It was time to stop running and fight. No, I wasn’t anyone’s idea of a hero. No, I wasn’t equipped to take on someone like Kerrigan. But if I didn’t, who would? Kian had sacrificed himself for me: now it was up to me.

  It was the first time I’d been able to think clearly since I’d fled the motel. Kian had said that Kerrigan would want to kill both of us, because we were the only two who knew the truth. But there was a third... my dad. If he was still alive and lying in a hospital somewhere, Kerrigan would try to eliminate him. And his guards wouldn’t realize the threat they faced.

  I had to save him.

  Emily

  George Washington University Hospital was a half hour’s walk away. Fortunately, it had stopped raining and the sun was starting to lighten the sky, so I could make faster progress. I was still chilled to the bone but moving helped to keep me warm and I had adrenaline on my side, now.

  I knew that he might be dead: the news may just not have been released, yet. But I had to try.

  I kept my head down and tried to stay off the main streets as much as I could to avoid the cameras. At least I didn’t look much like me, anymore, in the paint-splattered pants and hooded top.

  When I neared the hospit
al, I slowed down and peeked around the corner to look. They’d closed off an entire floor, according to the news, moving the regular patients elsewhere. Every entrance was guarded by Secret Service agents, which should have made me feel better. But they didn’t know what to watch for. They didn’t know who the real enemy was.

  There was no way I could get in without being seen and, if they saw me, they’d take me straight back to the White House and Kerrigan. I imagined being hauled into a Secret Service SUV while I tried to convince them the conspiracy was real. They might even get a doctor to give me a sedative shot to calm my “hysteria.” Then, back at the White House, I’d be easy pickings.

  I was starting to despair... but then I saw Harlan come out of the main entrance and talk to another agent. I sidled up to the police do-not-cross tape they’d used to seal everything off and then, at the last minute, ducked under it.

  “Hey!” I heard another agent yell behind me.

  I ran to Harlan, grabbed his arm and, as he turned, looked up at him so that he could see my face. His jaw dropped.

  “Let go of him! Right now!” The other agent, behind me. I was pretty sure he was pointing his gun at me.

  “It’s okay!” said Harlan quickly. “It’s—”

  He broke off as I shook my head.

  “It’s okay,” he said again. I pulled on his arm and nodded to the doors. He hesitated for a second and my stomach tightened... but then he sighed and ushered me inside.

  The hospital was weirdly empty: there were plenty of Secret Service agents around but not nearly enough to make up for all the missing patients and doctors who’d been shuffled to other floors. The sharp tang of disinfectant made my nose prickle and I felt my stomach knot in fear. I hadn’t had time until now for this part of it to hit me: he wasn’t just the President, he was my dad, and he was somewhere here, dead or dying—

  Harlan pulled me into the doctor’s lounge and closed the door. “What the hell is going on?” he demanded. “Are you okay?”

  “My dad,” I asked immediately. “Is he alive?”

  “He’s out of surgery... but they don’t know if he’ll wake up.”

  I slumped. Jesus.

  “What the hell happened at the museum?” asked Harlan. “How did you get away from O’Harra?”

  I shook my head. “Kian’s not the enemy. He saved us!”

  Harlan leaned close. “Emily, I have to take you in. I’m on orders direct from the Vice—”—he corrected himself—“from the President. I don’t know what O’Harra told you but he’s involved with the Brothers of Freedom. They already have him in custody: he can’t hurt you anymore.”

  “Hurt me? He didn’t—” I took a deep breath and tried to sound calm and rational. “Harlan, this is not what you think. Kerrigan is behind everything.”

  He blinked at me. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  I grabbed his upper arms and looked right into his eyes. “Kerrigan is behind the Brothers of Freedom,” I said. “The attack in the park, the one at the museum... it’s all him. To scare everybody and to steal the Presidency.”

  Harlan stared at me and then started to shake his head. “Emily, you’ve been through a lot.”

  I could feel the tears in my eyes and tried to blink them away because crying wouldn’t help my case. “Goddammit, Harlan, listen to me. Please!”

  “Emily, let me have someone take you back to the White House. You can calm down, say your piece, we can look into... all of this.”

  I closed my eyes for a moment in frustration and turned away from him. How the hell could I convince him? I had no evidence and no way to get it.

  I opened my eyes and, for a second, I was looking out of the little window of the doctor’s lounge, onto the hallway. That’s when I saw him: a Rexortech security guy, strolling through the lobby.

  I spun to face Harlan. “Rexortech have guys here?”

  Harlan nodded. “They handle security for the hospital anyway, but they sent extra guys to help lock the place down.” The Rexortech guy was standing in front of the glass security door that led from the lobby into the hospital. As I watched, he swiped a pass card, the door slid open for him and he strolled through.

  I grabbed Harlan’s arm and dragged him out of the lounge and across the lobby. “Rexortech is Kerrigan’s old company,” I told him. “The people he has at the White House, the people he sent here, they’re in on it!”

  Harlan just stared at me. On the other side of the sliding door I could see the Rexortech guy walking away down the hallway.

  “Please, Harlan!” I begged. “I know how this sounds! But I swear to you, this is real. You’ve known me for years, have I ever seemed crazy, or delusional?”

  He looked at me for a long time. “No….”

  “Then please, don’t let that guy go near my dad!”

  He hesitated, shook his head... then sighed and nodded. We walked over to the sliding door and Harlan swiped his pass card. Too late, I saw the white Rexortech camera above it. Shit! I looked away, but not in time. Somewhere, a computer would be flashing up an alert to Kerrigan’s people. How long did I have now—minutes?

  I led the way down the hallway. I didn’t need to ask which room because I could see the Rexortech guy entering a door. I started to jog, my legs aching with exhaustion, but the hallway seemed to go on forever. The Secret Service agents standing outside my dad’s room came alive and put their hands on their guns when they saw me running towards them... but then they saw who it was and just gawped. Harlan waved them aside as we barreled through the door.

  The Rexortech guy was standing beside my dad’s bed... but however hard I tried, I couldn’t focus on him. I just stood there staring at my dad, my heart shrinking down to a tight, hard ball.

  He’d always looked so strong but, in that bed with the bandages on his chest and all the machines around him, he looked like a fallen giant. His skin was horribly pale and his breath was a weak rasp.

  I finally looked up and saw the Rexortech guy staring at me in horror. He’d recognized me. He snatched his hand away from my dad, holding it down below the level of the bed so we couldn’t see it. But I’d seen something in his hand. “What is that?” I demanded. “What are you doing in here?”

  “I’m meant to be in here,” he said. “I have to walk the whole floor, check every room. Just doing my job.”

  “He has something in his hand,” I told Harlan. “I saw it!”

  The man frowned at me. “What the fuck?” He was so confident, so convincing. He made me sound like a crazy person.

  Next to me, I could see Harlan wavering, uncertain. This guy was going to talk his way out of there, then come back later when my dad was alone and defenseless.... “Harlan, I swear,” I said. “I saw it.”

  The Rexortech guy shook his head angrily and started for the door, one hand down by his side where we couldn’t see it.

  “Harlan, please,” I begged.

  Harlan took a long look at me... and suddenly drew his gun and pointed it at the Rexortech guy. “Stop,” he said. “Show me your hands.”

  The guy stopped, glowering at us. He slowly raised one hand... and we saw the syringe he’d been concealing.

  Then, while we were distracted, he pulled his gun with his other hand. He did it with military speed. He would have gotten the drop on anyone else.

  But not Harlan. He never hesitated, just raised his gun and fired two shots, hitting the guy in the chest with both and sending him slamming back against the wall. He slumped to the floor, dead.

  The door opened and the room was suddenly full of Secret Service agents, guns drawn. “What the fuck?” asked one of them, seeing the body.

  I pulled Harlan to one side. “You believe me now?” I asked.

  He nodded. His whole demeanor had changed. I might have always thought of Harlan as an old, faithful Labrador but now he’d gone into full-on attack mode... and he was furious that he hadn’t seen this danger until now.

  “I need you to trust no one,” I
told him. “Not a goddamn soul. You don’t let anyone near my dad. Can you do that?”

  He straightened up. “Yes ma’am.”

  Another agent stepped forward. “Miss Matthews, we need to take you back to the White House.”

  I backed away from them and out through the door.

  “Miss Matthews, it’s for your own safety!”

  I caught Harlan’s eye over the agent’s shoulder. The full horror of it was hitting him, now: the White House under Kerrigan’s control and full of Rexortech’s people. He understood, now: it wasn’t safe for me there, anymore.

  Run, he mouthed.

  I ran. Down the hallway, back towards the sliding door. I could hear footsteps behind me but they’d hesitated for a vital few seconds and I’d gotten a head start. I slapped the door release button for the sliding door and sprinted through the lobby, then out of the main doors and around the side of the building.

  Too late, I saw the black SUV speeding towards me. I swerved but it pulled up right in front of me, cutting me off. The rear door swung open and I saw Powell, a grin of satisfaction on his face. As I desperately tried to backpedal, he lunged forward and grabbed me, dragging me inside. A cloth bag was rammed over my head and everything went black.

  Kian

  “Sir?” An agent passed Miller a phone. “Harlan for you, from the hospital. She was there!”

  I’d been sitting slumped in my plastic chair, hands still cuffed behind my back, but now I sat bolt upright, straining my ears. I could only hear Miller’s end of the conversation but it told me all I needed to know: Emily had been to the hospital and there’d been another attempt on the President’s life. I shook my head, mad at myself: I should have realized Kerrigan would try to finish the President off. But what the hell had she been thinking, putting herself at risk like that?