Rescuing Liberty: Perseverance Book 1

by Amanda Washington

  The brook bubbled happily and an amazing sense of calm settled over me, mending the wounds of my recent trials. I closed my eyes and basked in the sounds and fragrances of life around me. To my left, two squirrels engaged in a heated discussion. One took off up a tree and his antagonist followed. I imagined Chip raising his fist and screaming at Dale. A smile tugged at my lips; one part reminiscent, two parts disheartened. Michelle and I used to translate wildlife conversations for her father. I closed my eyes and remembered my friend’s contagious laughter.

  I’d purchased my passport so I could visit Michelle, but never made it to Canada. Too busy working all the time. I glanced at my hands, and my mother’s ring reminded me that I’d neglected her as well. Momma had begged me to come home this past Christmas, but the layoffs had already begun, and I couldn’t get away.

  What I wouldn’t do for one more shot at Christmas …

  Those thoughts led to madness. I pushed them away and focused on plucking and washing the quail. By the time I got back to Ashley and Connor, the fire was going strong. Ashley and Connor had their heads together, deep in conversation. They saw me and immediately quieted.

  “What’s going on?” I asked.

  “Nothing,” Ashley said. “But I’m starving.” She stood and walked toward me, looking a little too guilty for my liking.

  Hmm. Wonder what those two are up to now? “Good,” I said, confident that I’d get the details out of her later. But now we had cooking to attend to. “Now warsh up. I’ma teach yah ta cook so as y’ll make some lad a good wife, I recon.” My southern accent was so pathetic it caused Ashley to giggle and call me weird.

  With the girl looking on, I cut large chunks of quail meat from the bones, placed them into the skillet, and covered them with water. Once the lid was secured, I balanced the pan in the fire.

  “You’re boiling it?” Connor eyed the skillet skeptically.

  “Yah. Everyone knows quail is better if you boil it for awhile. Tenders it right up.” My reply was polite even though I wanted to yell at him to mind his own business and stay out of my kitchen.

  “Everyone knows that, huh?” he asked.

  I grinned. “Well, everyone who knows anything about cooking quail.”

  While the meat was boiling, Ashley and I gathered a few small sticks and whittled one side of each to a point. Once the quail was no longer pink in the middle, we used the trimmed sticks as skewers. I sprinkled salt, pepper and rosemary on each chunk of meat. Then we held the sticks over the fire, like marshmallows, until the meat sizzled and browned.

  Our labors produced mouth-watering smells and scrumptious, tender meat. The outside slightly crispy, and inside was a juicy, delicious perfection. Some veggies would have perfected the dish, but it was still quite literally the best meal I’d had in a long time.

  Ashley was a little hesitant at first, but the intoxicating aroma convinced even her. She closed her eyes, and I watched as her taste buds experienced the culinary ecstasy of my cooking. A big self-congratulatory smile spread across my face, and I was in danger of breaking my arm to pat myself on the back when Connor spoke.

  “I always wanted to marry a cook.” His big, dark eyes studied me, daring me to react.

  Fear humbled me immediately and I tried to cover it up with a look of contempt. “Not this cook. Not even if you were the last man on earth, Mr. Dunstan.”

  Connor’s gaze bore into me, making my knees knock. He sized me up like a witness he was about to cross-examine. Arching an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth curved up in a very devious smirk. “Is that a challenge, Miss Collins?”

  I looked to Ashley for help, but the wretched girl was smiling! And that was the moment I knew I was in serious trouble.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  OUR BICYCLE TRANSPORTATION was a blessing, making me wonder why I hadn’t thought of it sooner. We followed Highway 18 for three days, turned north on Highway 203, and continued for another three days. The soreness of my legs became toned muscle as we averaged about ten miles a day on the bikes, stopping frequently to hunt, fish or forage. There was always food. Not an abundance, but enough.

  As much as I hated to admit it, Connor and I made a great team. We took turns scouting and hunting, teaching Ashley as we went. I felt protected and safe with him by my side, and hoped he felt the same. Everything was going so well until Ashley started having stomach problems.

  “Ash, did you eat something bad?” I asked after her third particularly long bathroom break of the day. “Maybe some berries or something? If you did, you should tell me.”

  She smiled sheepishly. “No, nothing like that.”

  “What then?” I asked. “This isn’t normal. Something is up. You keep running off to the bathroom and leaving Connor and I … alone.” I did a mental face palm. “Oh crap. That’s it, isn’t it?”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Ashley replied with her mouth, but her eyes said something else entirely.

  My stomach sunk. “You’ew playing match maker, aren’t you?” I raised an eyebrow at her. “Please tell me you’re not doing that.”

  She smiled sweetly.

  Uh-oh. I massaged my temples and closed my eyes.

  “I … he said he just wanted to talk to you.” She fidgeted and scanned the area. “He wants to get to know you better. It’s so sweet, Lib.”

  I shook my head and chuckled, flattered about and terrified of Connor’s attention. “Ash, I thought you were my girl? How can I trust you to have my back if you’re plotting against me?”

  She nodded. “I’m sorry, Lib. I didn’t think you’d be upset.” She stared down at her feet and I felt like a heel.

  I put my finger under her chin and raised it. Forcing her eyes to find mine, I smiled. “I’m not upset. You’re a sweetheart, Ash. Love ya girly. Just promise me; no more bogus bathroom breaks. Connor can get to know me just fine with you there with us.”

  She dimpled. “I promise. And I love ya too.”

  * * *

  We stopped a few miles south of Monroe, at a duck infested shoal of the Skykomish River. There were feathered meals everywhere, so we parked our bikes and approached slowly. At the edge of the river I crouched down, taking my pack off my shoulders.

  “What are you doing?” Connor squatted beside me.

  I turned my pack upside down, holding the items inside with one hand while crumbs tumbled out. There weren’t many morsels in the bottom of my pack, but it was more than enough to gain the attention of every duck on the water, and within a five mile radius. They honked, quacked, and flapped, charging us like a bunch of moms racing toward the best deal of a Black Friday sale.

  Ashley screamed and ran for her bike.

  I was tempted to do the same, but hunger provided me with a sudden and unexpected burst of courage. I whipped out my dagger and faced the horde of frightening fowl. Connor did the same, and between the two of us, we took down one Canadian goose and two ducks before they realized the danger and scattered. We picked up our kills and were carrying them back to the bikes when Connor stopped and held his finger to his mouth. His head tilted to the side for a second, then he dropped his goose and drew his gun. He sprinted past Ashley and disappeared into the bushes.

  Ashley and I looked at each other, and then studied the bushes that had just swallowed Connor. I neither saw nor heard anything. I motioned for Ashley and she ran to me.

  “Did you hear anything?” I pulled my gun out of my pack and flicked off the safety.

  “I don’t know. How can anyone hear anything over those?” She pointed toward the ducks that were still scattering.

  Connor parted the bushes and reappeared, jogging toward us. His brow was furrowed and his body was tense.

  I raised an eyebrow. “What is it?”

  He turned and stared back at the direction he’d come from. “I’m not sure.” Bending down, he retrieved the honker he’d dropped. “But we should get out of here just to be safe.”

  * * *

  Connor set th
e pace when we started up again. He pushed us hard and spoke little. Ashley and I had to work to keep up, which ended up killing my already low front tire. By the time we made it to the outskirts of Monroe I was riding on the rim. I patted the handle bars of my bike and urged it forward. “You can do it, Pinky, that’s a good, little, sissy-bike.”

  Ashley giggled. “I don’t think that’s going to help.”

  “I know, but look up there.” I pointed ahead of us.

  We were almost to Main Street, and across the road sat a small store with a sign that read ‘Bob’s Bike Shop.’ The store looked harmless enough from the outside. The front window was broken, but the vandalism matched the surrounding buildings. We made our way inside and examined the remaining inventory.

  “What do you think about this one?” I pulled a man’s bike down from the top rack.

  “Black?” Ashley asked. “I like this one.” She pointed to the Pepto-Bismol pink bike by her knee.

  “Seriously?” I asked. “Do I look like a girl who likes pink?”

  She giggled. “What about purple?” She pointed to the equally girly-bike beside the pink one.

  I sighed dramatically and swung my leg over the black K2 mountain bike. “What’s wrong with black?”

  The sound of a shotgun being cocked behind us interrupted our girl-bonding shopping day. I immediately surrendered, raised my hands above my head, and slowly turned around to see who was threatening us.

  “Wow.” The word escaped through my lips as I stared at the woman before me.

  Our rifle wielder looked like she’d just stepped out of a Macy’s clothing store. Black, fitted jeans hugged her slim but shapely figure and were tucked into black knee-high boots. Her chest was accentuated by a red, fitted scoop neck top and her shiny, brown hair was cut stylishly into a chin-length bob. She looked clean and smelled of expensive perfume. Frosty blue eyes, highlighted by the perfect amount of dark liner, roved from my black frayed t-shirt to my dirty, rugged jeans, to my worn sneakers, and then back up to my battered face. My own frizzy-yet-greasy curls were trying to escape the braid I’d fashioned to restrain them, and I was acutely aware of the odor coming from my body. I was quite a bit taller, but somehow she managed to look down her nose at me, snorting in disgust. I had been dismissed.

  “What are you doing in my shop?” She stared out at us over the double-barreled shotgun.

  “Ah.” I glanced out the window at the large sign that had drawn my attention. “So, you’re … Bob?”

  She sneered at me, clearly unimpressed by my amazing sense of humor and keen observation skills.

  Connor appeared behind her and pressed his glock against the back of her head. “They’re bike shopping, Bob. Put down the gun, nice and easy.” He took a step closer to her.

  She didn’t move.

  “You’ll want to put it down,” Connor insisted. “Yours is more powerful, but mine is faster.”

  I didn’t snicker. Not quite.

  She lowered the shotgun, raised her hands in the air and turned toward Connor. He kicked the rifle out of her range.

  Her voice turned sultry when she recognized him. “Oh my word. You’re Connor Dunstan, aren’t you?”

  I rolled my eyes at the smile that spread across his face.

  There was a rustling sound, followed by footsteps to my left. We all glanced in the direction to see a man aiming a semi-automatic at Connor. He was dressed in cargo-style camouflage pants and a black, sleeveless t-shirt. There was a tribal band tattoo wrapped around his well-defined, right bicep. His hair was dark and short, revealing the small stud that sparkled in his left earlobe. He had that rebellious, bad-boy look about him that reminded me of Matt Damon in the Bourne movies. I watched him, wondering if he was as competent and deadly as Jason Bourne.

  Connor grabbed the woman’s arm and pulled her between himself and the Jason Bourne wannabe. Glock aimed at the woman’s head, Connor and the man stared each other down. Guns raised, muscles flexed, testosterone levels flaring, the situation had every potential to end in tears.

  “Put the gun down, Jeff,” the woman said, sounding calm.

  “I will when he does.” Jeff continued to size up Connor.

  “Don’t you recognize him?” she asked. “He’s that famous attorney from Olympia. The one in the commercials. He isn’t a murderer. Right, Connor?”

  Connor did not confirm nor deny this. Instead he said, “I’m willing to talk.”

  Jeff gave a stiff nod.

  “There.” The woman smiled. “Everyone agrees to play nice.”

  Eyes still locked, they slowly lowered their weapons. No one made a sound nor drew a breath. When they stood back up, their firearms remained on the floor.

  The woman turned to face Connor, holding out her hand to him. “My name’s Gina.” She nodded to the man. “Jeff is my brother.”

  As Connor gripped her hand, her smile widened. If I was a jealous woman—or a woman who cared for Connor at all—I’d be concerned. But thankfully I wasn’t.

  I cleared my throat anyway, to make sure Ashley and I hadn’t suddenly become invisible. “I’m Liberty, and this is Ashley.”

  She glanced at me again with a look that told me exactly how unimpressive she found me. My jaw tightened in response.

  “Now then.” She turned her attention back to Connor. “Sorry about the guns, but there hasn’t been anyone around here for over a week. You frightened us.”

  “Understandable. You can’t be too careful these days.” He motioned to my bike. “Got a flat tire. Just need a replacement. We have some things we can trade …”

  Gina looked thoughtful as she considered Connor. “We’ve been looking for traveling companions. Which direction are you heading?”

  Connor’s glance shifted from Gina, to Jeff, back to Gina. “North.”

  I was standing to the side, so I saw the look that Gina and Jeff shared—like a heated argument with their eyes. His jaw clenched and she smiled in victory.

  “Jeff and I planned to head to Canada, once we found Dad.”

  “Gina—” Jeff shifted his feet.

  She held up a hand in his direction. “No, Jeff, I miss him too, but obviously he’s not coming back. Maybe he’s up north waiting for us. We can’t wait forever for him.” She turned her smile back on Connor. “Maybe the gentleman is kind enough to let us tag along?”

  Gentleman? I looked around the store, wondering if a gentleman had suddenly appeared. Nope. Still just Connor and Jeff. Maybe Jeff’s a gentleman?

  Connor crossed his arms and leaned back on his heels. “We can trust you?”

  “No more than we can trust you. But there is safety in numbers, and we can all benefit from an alliance.” She intensified the suggestive nature of her words by placing her hand on Connor’s arm.

  He nodded. “I’m listening.”

  “We have provisions.” She gestured toward a couple of bags leaning against the wall. “Jeff can hunt, and you are obviously a survivor. Even with a woman and child tagging along.” She smiled at him. “That’s so sweet.”

  I coughed. Too easy. Too convenient. Too irritating.

  Connor’s glance shifted between Gina and Jeff several times before he finally nodded. “If either of you try anything, I’ll kill you both.” He delivered the words without emotion.

  I ground my teeth, but if Connor heard the noise, he ignored it. Ashley and I had been pushed into the background as he decided what was best for us. “Connor, can I talk to you for a second?” My hands went to my hips and I glared daggers at him.

  “Later,” he said, without even a glance in my direction.

  The side of Gina’s mouth curved up into a wicked smirk, making me want to knock out every last one of her perfect teeth. Connor will pay for this.

  * * *

  Weapons were retrieved, fresh bikes were selected and we all took off heading northeast on Highway 2. Gina and Connor pedaled side by side, leaving Jeff, Ashley, and I to follow behind them. Connor continued to ignore my presence, k
eeping his gaze focused on Gina. Compared to the rose, I felt like a weed. I listened as Connor and Gina talked incessantly.

  “The last time I saw you on the news was that trial … The one where that guy sold the plans to that airliner.” Gina glanced at Connor. “Right?”

  Connor smiled his famous, blood-sucking smile. “That was just an allegation. My client was cleared of all charges.”

  Connor Dunstan: valiant defender of the guilty. I rode between Jeff and Ashley, like riding in the back seat with the kids. But none of us kids were happy about the status. We pedaled in silence, glaring holes into the backs of the two ahead of us.

  After a couple of hours, Jeff wheeled his bike closer to mine. “Stop torturing yourself.”

  Scowling took all of my concentration and Jeff’s cryptic words were an annoying distraction. “What?”

  “Gina always gets her way.” He nodded toward the chatting couple. “Might as well kiss your boyfriend goodbye now.”

  I stopped glaring at Connor’s back long enough to give Jeff an indifferent glance. “He’s not my boyfriend.”

  “Right.” He nodded. “I didn’t really think he was, but it happens all the time.” He shrugged. “When Gina glows, everyone else pales.”

  I glanced at Gina and let out a breath. “She is very pretty.” I looked over at Jeff and he beamed me an impressive smile. His baby-blues lit up like headlights. “But you’re a good-looking guy. Surely you don’t disappear into your sister’s shadow?”

  He blushed. It was slight and ever so cute, making me feel like a cougar, eyeballing a young buck. I had to be at least ten years his senior.

  Ashley closed the space between us and joined the conversation.

  “So …” I turned toward Jeff. “What was your previous life like?”

  “School and work.” His smile was sad and reminiscent, making me thirsty for more information.