Page 17 of Claiming Liberty
“Sorry about him,” Layan says, dragging my attention back to her. She gives me a small smile. “He gets nervous being around women like us.”
“Women like us?”
She nods. “Ex slaves.”
Exslaves?
When my eyes lower to her collar her fingers lift to it, as if she’s just now remembering it’s there. Her hands move to the back of her neck, searching for the latch.
“Peter said you were Angel Ramos’s slave… Is that right?”
My face burns. “I don’t know if I would use that term, but technically, yes.”
She nods, her lips sinking into a sympathetic frown as she removes the collar and lets it dangle at her side. “I can’t even imagine what that must’ve been like… I’m so sorry.” She splays her palm toward the kitchen and flicks her eyes over my shoulder before going back to me. “We both are.”
I shake my head. “Don’t be. I’m fine.”
“Right.” She gives me a kind smile and goes to put her hand on my arm but thinks better of it, resting it at her side instead. “Well, you’re safe now. I promise, there’s no better place on the island than with Peter. He’s really valuable to them, so they leave him alone for the most part. You shouldn’t have any more unwanted visitors.”
“Who is ‘them?’ He’s Angel’s pilot, so do you mean him?”
She shrugs. “All of the powerful men with a residence on the island, I think. Peter works for Ramos, but he also does a lot of transporting goods for the island, so he and Monty Chaffer have a close relationship too. Someone has to bring that guy’s fancy cigars over, you know?”
“Who’s Monty Chaffer?”
Her kind eyes narrow with either confusion or skepticism. “You don’t know who Chaffer is?”
I shake my head.
Her lips pout. “Mr. Ramos never took you to his house?”
“Why would he?”
“Why would who what?” Kingsley reappears with three mugs balanced clumsily in his hands. Layan takes one with a picture of Snoopy on it, and he hands me one with steaming hot, light green liquid next. I look down and stare at the ‘Spring Break 2015’ gold lettering for a few moments.
“Mr. Ramos never took Liberty to Monty Chaffer’s house.”
Kingsley’s face reddens as he looks down at his mug. “Oh, really?”
“Isn’t that weird?” Layan asks.
Kingsley shrugs. It could not be any more obvious that he doesn’t want to talk about this.
“Who’s Monty Chaffer?” I ask again.
Kingsley takes a sip of his tea and clears his throat before reluctantly looking at me. “He’s basically the Sawyer of this side of the island. He has a mansion where he throws a lot of parties and things, you know...”
“I thought this was only Sawyer’s island.”
He nods. “It is, but Chaffer plays a big part in bringing residents here. Enough that he gets a 25 percent cut of the profit.”
“Oh…”
There’sanotherSawyer?
Another fucking manor?
One Angel goes to?