Read The Liberator (A Dante Walker Novel) (Entangled Teen) for Free Online

shoulder.
    “Max still asleep?” I ask.
    “Like a hibernating grizzly,” Valery answers, and I’m glad she knew the answer to my question.
    “Hey, Valery,” Charlie says, “I like your trench coat.”
    Red turns around in her seat. “Really? Been waiting for an excuse to wear it.” She nods toward the window at the fat purple clouds and the barren trees. “Not quite cold enough to warrant it, I don’t think. Even in December. But I’m making it work.”
    “Can we go?” I ask. Valery glares at me in the rearview mirror as I pluck the gold-framed shades hanging from my shirt and slip them on. “Now, please?”
    “You’re despicable,” she says, but she puts the car in drive, anyway, and heads toward the airport.
    “How am I paying for my goodies in Denver?” I ask. “Papa needs play money.”
    Valery reaches over, keeping her eyes on the road as she digs through her oversized, satin purse. “Glad you reminded me,” she says. “Here.”
    I take the card from her and turn it over. “Pull over.”
    “Why?” she asks. “What’s wrong?”
    “I’m going to be freaking sick. That’s why.” I flick the card back into the front seat. It hits the windshield and plunks to the floor. “My name is Dante Walker, and I do not carry Discover cards. Discover is for senior citizens and budgeters .” I say the last word with a shiver.
    Valery manages to reach down and find the card. Then she throws it into my lap. “You’re a liberator now, which puts you on a budget .”
    “Oh, hell, no. I may have agreed to this assignment, but I’m used to a certain level of sweet, sultry excess,” I say. “Plus, why would I be on a budget while you’re driving a Benz?”
    “It was a bonus for doing my job well.” Valery straightens her turquoise necklace. “Don’t be so dramatic, Dante. It’ll do you good to see what it’s like on the other side.”
    I stick the Discover card into my back pocket and instantly feel like I’m covered in fleas and soot. Like I just got done cleaning some fart stain’s chimney, and I’m right about to beg for more porridge.
    Valery’s phone vibrates in her purse. She yanks it out. In the rearview, I watch her face change from delight at limiting my spending to alarm.
    I sit up straight. “What is it?”
    She glances at me in the mirror, and her face relaxes. “Nothing. You may be surprised to learn I have a life outside of toting you around.” Red may be trying to pass off the text she read as something innocent, but when she punches the accelerator, I’m not so sure.
    …
    When we get to Birmingham Airport, my stomach is in knots. Charlie’s hand never leaves my knee, but I can hardly look at her. Somehow, between last night and today, I lost my confidence in being separated. I still have the ivory horn in my pocket, and I know she must have hers, because I can feel it. But it doesn’t seem to be enough.
    Valery parks, and we walk toward the check-in area, the three of us. I’m not sure why Red feels the need to tag along for this part. Probably wants to make sure I follow through with my assignment.
    The airport is bustling even at the crack of Sunday morning. Beneath the fluorescent lights, guys in business suits and kids with candy cane–stained faces hurry past, headed to who cares where. The sounds of rolling suitcases is deafening, only broken up by sporadic announcements by an airport attendant who sound like he’s moments from taking his own life. Ah, Christmas cheer.
    There’s a horrendous snack stand with turd-colored coffee and flaky danishes that probably shouldn’t be flaky. But I’m hungry. I bypass the line and smile to myself when the peeps behind me mumble complaints. Telling their families and friends about “this dick in the snack line” will be the highlight of their day.
    When my gut is reasonably satisfied, and there’s not much left to do besides check my bags, I turn and look at Charlie. “Hey, uh…,” I start. “Think I can talk to