Page 84 of Taming Liberty

19

Lib

My heart races as I focus on the small section of road illuminated by the rental car’s headlights.

When Angel said this air strip was private, he meant it. I haven’t seen a streetlight in miles, and no other cars have passed on this one lane road.

Trees line the sides of the road, shielding what little light emanates from the sky, and there are more curves than I’m comfortable with, especially with my mind so preoccupied.

My breath hitches as I replay the last hour.

He loves me. He actually loves me, enough to sacrifice having me to himself. Enough to sacrifice his relationship with Sawyer. Enough to sacrifice everything he has.

I blink hard and grip the wheel tighter, willing myself to focus on the road. I can’t think about Angel right now. In a day or two, when I’m out of this country and safe, maybe I’ll be able to crumble then, but for now, I have too much else to focus on. Like where I’m going to go.

I know the answer, but I still tell myself I need time to think about it. New York is the destination that always pops into my mind, even though it’s a foolish destination. I should go to another country, get a fake passport, a fake name, start a new life. I could at least lay low for a while. It’s the smart thing to do.

The problem with that is, the smart thing always seems to sound the least appealing to me.

If I don’t go to New York now, I’ll never be able to stop thinking about it. I’ll always wonder about Elsie and Robert. Elsie will be going off to college soon, and although my husband can more than afford it, I don’t have much confidence in him doing more than paying for the moving truck. He never wanted Elsie there, and he’s been eager to kick her to the curb ever since she stepped foot inside his house.

I have complete confidence that Elsie will be fine. She’s a smart girl who’s faced the worst life has to offer, and she would find a way to land on her feet without anyone there to break her fall. If I did nothing, she’d still be fine.

But if Robert was dead… She would be the sole heir to his fortune. And fake identity or not, I would get one hell of a divorce. It’d be killing two birds with one stone, and it’s far too tempting not to consider.

But how would I do it? Would I sneak in and slip something in the almond milk he puts in his coffee? That’s what comes to mind when I rule out things Elsie would also consume. I doubt she’s developed a taste for almond milk since I’ve been gone, but it still seems like too big of a risk.

I could kill him in his sleep. We’ve never owned a gun—that I know of—so it would have to be with a knife, and it would have to be instant. Elsie can’t wake up to the sound of his screams, as enticing as hearing him plead is.

I could wait until he’s home alone. I could make it look like a robbery and leave the front door open or something so someone else would be the one to find him before Elsie got home.

Fuck, I don’t know. All I know is I need to go to New York, even if it’s for the last time. I want the closure, and I want to know my niece is going to start her adult life in a fancier boat than I did.

Light shines in the rearview mirror, and I squint as I peer at the headlights behind me. I glance at the phone on the passenger seat, the GPS saying I’m only a few minutes away. The person behind me must be the pilot. Perfect timing.

I glance in the mirror again but lower my eyes when the light blinds me. The guy has his brights on and is following oddly close.

I speed up only to slow down when I come to another turn. I don’t know if I surprise him by it or what, but the car rocks as he bumps into me. I gasp and hold the wheel tighter. I glare into the rearview mirror as if he’ll be pulling over and waving to me with an apology, but he hasn’t backed off at all.

The car rocks with another hit, and my teeth chomp down from the force, nicking my tongue in the process. I barely notice the pain.

Something’s wrong.

I lean forward and stomp on the gas, sending the car jolting forward. A gated airstrip comes into view when I hit a break in the trees, and I speed toward it. I can see that the gate is closed, but I head for it anyway like the airstrip is a sanctuary. The car behind me follows on my tail but is no longer close enough to touch.

Who the fuck is it?

The pilot. It must be the pilot. No one else would know I was out here.

I peek in the rearview again and feel my breaths coming too fast, too shallow. A sharp, fearful cry is pulled out of me by some invisible force, and I grip the wheel to keep my hands from trembling.

Keep it together, Liberty.

I get close enough to see a chain lock wrapped around the flimsy-looking gate, and I close my eyes and push all the way down on the gas. A pop sounds, and my body jerks, but the car barely slows down.

I open my eyes and look in the mirror. I can’t tell what type of car it is, but it’s definitely not an SUV. Probably a sedan, like this one.

There isn’t much space left to drive unless we’re going to speed in circles around the plane up ahead, so I dart my gaze around while trying to think. There aren’t any runway lights, so it’s dark out here. I can’t see the full perimeter of the fenced-in area, but the rough gravel crunching under the tires tells me this is it. There’s no road. There’s nonothing.

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