Liberty Begins (The Liberty Series) Read Online Free Page A

hold his stare. “Luck doesn’t run in my family,” I say, and my voice sounds harsh to me, older and sharper than I intended.
     
    “Well, that’s okay, then,” he says gently, and puts his hand under my chin. I feel a jolt of electricity at his touch. “Hopefully, luck won’t have anything to do with it.”
     
    He gives me another crinkle-eyed smile, and I feel myself getting wobbly because his hand is on me and his face, so intense and handsome, is so close to mine. He’s looking at me like he’s happy to have found me. He seems relieved for some reason. None of this makes any sense and my head starts to swim from his touch, his stare and from wondering who he really is, why he hasn’t asked me for a lap dance and why talking to him makes me feel all wobbly. He releases me and takes a step back. His exit from my space feels like a blast of cold air.
     
    “It was nice to meet you, Liberty. I hope we see each other again soon.”
     
    “Um, I’ll be here,” I stutter helplessly. I watch him turn to leave. I want to run after him, give him my address, my schedule, my social security number — anything so he can find me easily. But I don’t. I feel like my legs are made out of jello as I stand and watch him nod to the group of suits that were here with him, for God only knows what, as they follow him out the door and are gone.
     
    “You better finish that,” Alex whispers into my ear, startling me, and I spill some of my wine on my shirt. “You look frazzled.” He wags his eyebrows at me lasciviously and I briefly consider emptying my glass over his head. Instead I take a deep breath, a big sip, and compose myself. I need to calm down. I have to get some rest tonight, and I need to come back and work tomorrow and pretty much every day after that. I need every dollar that’s out there to make, because I have no place but my shabby apartment to go. And now I need to be here as much as I can so if anybody wants to find me, they can. Just in case.

 
    CHAPTER THREE

Special Delivery
     
    I live in a small apartment slightly north of the strip. I drive my little Fiesta slow, because I’m always looking out for drunk drivers, and also because the Fiesta just doesn’t go that fast. When I say not that fast, I mean I can’t get it to go more than 45 without it violently shaking. I’m also not in a hurry. My apartment is not very welcoming.
     
    “Hello,” I call as I walk in and turn on the lights. I see a bunch of small, leggy black things scramble towards the cracks in the countertops and underneath the cabinets as the lights come on. These are my roommates. As disgusting as they are, they don’t bother me as much as the tales the other tenants have told me of bed bugs. That’s my worst fear — something in my bed. I can’t bear the thought of something in my safe space, crawling on me in the night when I’m too out of it to defend myself or to even know it’s there. My neighbors kept showing me their bite marks up and down their legs and arms. From what I had read, it was only a matter of time until they showed up at my place. I couldn’t imagine that bed bug bites would go over too well at the Treasure Chest. I didn’t want to be attacked by the disgusting bloodsuckers and I certainly didn’t want to lose my job because of it. It was making it really hard for me to get to sleep at night.
     
    I started the water on the stove for my macaroni and cheese; I hadn’t eaten anything today besides a cheese sandwich at 11 am. I was shaking I was so hungry. No wonder that wine had gone to my head; I hadn’t eaten enough today, or any day this week. I couldn’t stop thinking about John. I was pretty sure that some of the shaking was also from adrenaline. Thinking about him made it worse.
     
    While I waited for the water to boil I performed my nightly ritual. I had already washed all my makeup off at work, because they had every sort of industrial makeup remover known to man and I had nothing that