Page 93 of Longing for Liberty
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.
