It's been over a month since I've seen the plantation house, and as I walk up the long driveway from the street, I'm surprised at how unfamiliar it feels. I took a taxi and Nathan told me that if I needed, my Audi was at home for me to get away. A nice option, but I'm not sure if I agree with it.

A few of the staff react with surprise when I walk up, but Nathan is the first to greet me, coming down the wooden steps of the porch. “Your father is out back, near the pool, with a young lady as his company,” Nathan says quietly. “And I got a call. The police arrested Sam Grammercy about a half hour ago.”

I nod and pull out my phone. I dial Darcy, who picks up quickly. “Yes?”

“Open the gates,” I tell her in a flat voice, my emotions so roiling that I'm not able to put any sort of inflection in my speech at all. “Open them wide.”

I hang up before she can reply, and go inside to the foyer. I look around, but the place is pretty much deserted already. “My mother?”

“Upstairs, drunk and passed out. Andrea is in the library.”

I nod. “Inform her what I just did, and then tell any staff who don't want to deal with the cops to get the hell outta here. I'm going to go have a chat with Peter.”

Nathan nods, but doesn't move. “What?”

He looks like he's about to say something, but instead pats me on the shoulder. “De Oppresso Liber. Free the oppressed. For too long, I betrayed that motto,” he says instead. “Thank you for reminding me what right and wrong are.” I nod and pat him in return.

“Thank you, Nathan. Now let's go do what we need to do.”

I leave the foyer and cut through the dining room out to the pool area, where I see Peter sitting in a lounge chair next to a picnic table, his gut hanging out over the waistband of his ridiculous Speedos. It’s definitely swimwear that might look appropriate on me, but not on a man over fifty and carrying the extra weight he is.

In the pool, a young woman is swimming, most likely his newest girlfriend judging by the thong string bikini and long blonde hair streaming behind her as she kicks under the water. He’s so absorbed by the sight of her ass flexing that he doesn't hear me until I'm nearly on top of him. When he does, he has the balls to just give me a cocky smile. “Ah, so you finally got over your little temper tantrum. Good to have you back, Jackson.”

“Little temper tantrum,” I repeat softly, musing. I go around and sit in the other chair at the table, surprised I'm not in a total rage, but instead icy calm and focused. I've changed so much since that night in the limo with Katrina. “After all that you've done, including having the woman I love killed in front of me, you have the stupidity to call the past three weeks a temper tantrum?”

“Well, hasn't it been?” he asks, smirking. “I mean, the bitch hurt our family. Nathan told me what happened, and I'm glad that you've finally come home. Now, how about you wait here, and you, me, and Kendra can have a nice dinner together.”

“Bringing your girlfriends into the home now even,” I say, shaking my head. “Well, enjoy it for another hour or two. It'll be the last.”

“What do you mean?” Peter asks, suspicious. “What have you been up to?”

“Oh, not much. I just took all of Katrina's evidence, and there was a fuck-ton of it, and sent it to the cops, feds as well as the local news, and the blogosphere. I bet if you look right now, you'll find pictures of you with women, with gangsters, or maybe with a former governor of this state. Best of all, I've got the e-mails and files that you sent to coordinate the faking of Sam Grammercy's death. Did I mention he was arrested in Miami thirty minutes ago?”

Peter goes pale, and about that time Kendra comes up from another lap, and notices me for the first time. “Oh, hi! You must be Jackson!”

“Leave,” I reply, not taking my eyes off Peter. “We have some family business to discuss. Go home, and don't come back.”

Kendra stops, looking to Peter, who is staring back at me, and I'm not taking my eyes off him for a second. Kendra huffs, then gets out of the pool. In my periphery, her toned backside is the last thing I see of her as she disappears into the house.

“I don't think she'll be back.”

“You inconsiderate little shit,” Peter rasps, his voice quaking in fury. “I gave you a house, raised you, let you do what you wanted, and all I asked for was your loyalty. And you couldn't even do that.”

“No, what you did was give me money, nothing else. You never loved me, you never raised me, and the only example you gave me was how not to be a man. You wanted me to just spend your money and stay out of your way while you acted like a pig. Well, I found something more important than money, and you took it from me. So now I've got nothing to lose, and for the first time in my life, I'm doing the right thing. So fuck your money, and fuck you. I should kill you, but I won't. Enjoy prison.”

It's cathartic, saying what has been burning in my heart for years, and I feel strong as I stand up, walking past him. He stands up, and tries to grab my arm, but I turn and kick, my foot planting directly in his stomach and sending him stumbling backward onto the lawn, where he lies, groaning and holding his belly. “You broke my ribs, you little shit!”

“For twenty-two years, you broke my heart. I guess that makes us even,” I say calmly before I go to the door. Inside, I hear chaos breaking out as the remaining staff passes along Nathan's warning. I can hear the sirens in the distance, and I know we've only got a few minutes, five or six at most.

I see motion off to my right, near Peter's office, and I go over, finding Andrea inside. “What are you doing?”

“What should be done,” she says, opening the combination safe that has rested behind a painting on the wall for years. I didn't know she had the combination, but I'm not surprised. Andrea's known so much for so long.

Inside the safe, I see that there's two guns, a white baggie that is most likely coke, and four stacks of cash, along with a black bag. Andrea looks at me, and gestures in invitation. “What do you want?”

I reach in and take the guns, tucking them in the waistband of my pants. “I'll keep you safe as you're getting out. You're ready, I hope?”

She points, and I see the backpack already sitting on the desk. “I've been packed for a while, figuring you'd be moving quick.”

I nod and step back. “Leave the drugs.”

Andrea chuckles in agreement and reaches in, taking out the cash and the black bag, opening it. Inside are dozens, maybe hundreds of diamonds and other gems. Andrea pokes around a little, then reaches in and takes out a diamond and a sapphire, which I note is the same color as Katrina's eyes. She puts them in my hand, and folds my hand over them. “I hope you can give them to someone special someday.”

“Will I ever see you after today, Andrea?” I ask, and she gives me a mysterious smile.

“If fate smiles on us, I hope so. I had so much fun getting to know you better the past few weeks. I'd like to someday see that you've made it the rest of the way.”

Andrea puts the stacks of hundred dollar bills in her bag, and then tucks the bag of gems away. “I know some places this can be turned into cash,” she says, giving me a smile. “You ready?”

The sirens are getting closer, and I nod. “I love you, Andrea.”

“I love you too, oniichan.”

We leave the library, and in the foyer I see Nathan waiting for us. “The police are at the front of the driveway, waiting on the search warrant. I closed the gate to slow them down, but it won't stop them for long. I'd recommend not taking the streets to get out. There's some ATVs in the stable area, that'd be better.”

“Lead on,” I instruct, and Nathan's moving, his pistol out just in case, taking us out the side entrance, the three of us running over to the two quad runners and jumping on. We fire them up, Andrea hanging onto me as we haul ass out the back and up the fire road that leads deeper into the woods. “Where's Maverick?”

“A safe place,” Nathan yells back, the wind tearing the words from his mouth almost before I can hear them, pointing to the right as we reach a fork in the trail. We take it, roaring at top speed as the sun rises. We're approaching noon, but here, on the edge of the swamps, the mists are still rising from the ground and the visibility is diminishing.

Nathan holds up his hand, slowing his ATV as we reach another split in the trail. “Here's where we split up. The cops shouldn't be looking for us, but still... better safe than sorry.”

“Where are we?” I ask, and Nathan points to our right. “What's that way?”

“Two miles that direction is the Jean Lafitte Golf Course. I'd suggest walking in order to avoid attention. My path goes the other way.”

I look at the trail he's going to go, wondering where life is going to take him, and give him an appreciative look. “Thank you, Nathan. For everything.”

Nathan nods, and offers Andrea his hand, and they shake.

Andrea nods, and they share an unspoken appreciation. Nathan starts his ATV again, twists the throttle, then stops before he can put the vehicle in motion. Reaching into his suit pocket, he takes out a small envelope, like the kind you'd find a kid's Valentine's card in. “I promised someone that I'd give this to you after you spoke with Peter. I hope it brings you happiness, Jackson.”

I take the envelope, and see that inside there's a slip of paper. “Where will you go, Nathan?”

He considers for a moment, then gives me a half-smile that's slightly sad. “To go see Aisha. I've got some more debts to balance before then though. Take care of yourself, Jackson DeLaCoeur.”

He offers his hand and we shake, and I'm left wondering as the old warrior puts his ATV in gear and rides off toward the bayou. Andrea and I watch him for a minute, then I turn to her, and I see she's already pulled her backpack onto her shoulders. “You ready?”

“Just a minute,” I say, tearing open the envelope and looking inside. There's a single piece of paper, an address in Federal City written on it. “Federal City. What's there?”

“Only way to find out is to go,” Andrea says, cinching the straps on her backpack tight. I put the paper back in the envelope and tuck the whole thing in my pocket. “Come on. Walk with me one more time?”

I take her hand, and we start down the trail. I've got a hundred dollars in my wallet, and as we walk, I toss one of the handguns into a nearby pond, where it barely makes a plop as it sinks below the murky, greenish water. So as the golf course comes into view, I've got a hundred dollars, one handgun, and the clothes on my back. The rest of it is useless junk, now probably frozen or soon to be frozen credit cards, a driver's license, and other assorted crap, but I've never felt freer, or richer, in my entire life.

Katrina was right. Without the money, or I guess the strings that come with the DeLaCoeur money, I've got a lot more freedom. It's more valuable than anything else.