Page 33 of Claiming Liberty
I stand, rubbing my hands over my face while my head spins out of control. I want to go home. Call Peter. Get on a plane, get the fuck away from this place, and never look back.
But I can’t do that, can I?
Idid this. I helped build this place.
Now I have to tear it down.
I take a step toward the door, my throat too full to stomach any more of this conversation, but I stop before leaving to turn back to her. I’m probably the last person she wants comforting her, but I can at least point her toward help or support. There’s only one woman I know here who’s brave enough to vent about Sawyer.
“There’s a woman here named April who’s gone through something similar to you. You should talk to her. She can help you work through this. And if anyone tries to hurt you, tell them I’m going to buy you. That should discourage them.”
She looks at me through her wet lashes. “I thought you said you weren’t—”
“I’m not interested in you like that, no, and I don’t believe I actually have the power to buy you even if I was. But I’ll help you as much as I can.”
“Thanks.” I expect her to break eye contact, and the second she does, I plan to leave. I’m surprised when she continues staring.
“It’s too late for me to talk to April,” she says as an afterthought. “She was sold the day I got here… She was nice.”
I feel the blood drain from my face, and my lungs tighten. “Do…” I clear my throat. “Do you know who she was sold to?”
She shakes her head.
I scratch my cheek, thinking for a moment. I need to make sure she’s okay. If she was sold to Jasper… I shudder at the thought.
I can’t ask Sawyer who he sold her to. I don’t think I could look at Sawyer right now without giving away everything I know, and that can’t happen until I know how to handle all of this. I could ask around in the playroom…
No. There’s someone better who might know.
I pull out my phone and text Chaffer back.
Save me a cigar. I’m on my way.
7
LIBERTY
Peter walks beside me into Chaffer’s den, our arms interlocked, and his posture is so rigid, he reminds me of a cold, heartless robot. If we were anywhere else, he’d strike me as stiff and unpleasant, but here, surrounded by all these men at Chaffer’s, it comes off as strength. It makes me feel safer, protected, and I’m grateful for it.
My shoulders square to match his, and I straighten my spine, scanning the room for both Chaffer and Naomi as soon as we’re inside. I spot her on one of the couches, leaning on the shoulder of who I’m assuming is Digby Barton with peaceful, half-hooded eyes only sex and drugs can create.
“Focus,” Peter hisses in my ear.
I blink and let him lead me farther into the room. He pulls his arm from me and casually steps away when someone greets him. He switches from rigid to inviting in half a second as he dives into a conversation I doubt he genuinely cares for.
I distance myself farther, inching toward the side of the room as I seek out Chaffer. The plan is for him to see me alone and up for grabs.
He spots me before I find him.
My gaze roams until I land on the poker table to find his stare drilling into me. I hold eye contact for only a moment before turning my head and lifting my red-painted lips into a smile. I brush a strand of hair out of my face and look at him again. He’s still staring at me with a wicked smirk.
I turn and sashay toward the exit, my hips swinging just the right exaggerated amount. When I make it into the hall, I press my back against the wall and wait with my chest extended and a black stiletto planted in front of the other.
When Chaffer walks through the doors, I mimic his smirk.
“Hi,” I purr.
He licks his bottom lip as his eyes dip to my chest. “Were you looking for me, sweetheart?”