Page 35 of Claiming Liberty
These guys are all the same.
I smile shyly and tuck my hair behind my ear. Before I have a chance to say anything, he goes on.
“For the record, Sawyer is not a real man. I’m the one who built this society. He merely takes the credit.”
I tilt my head. “Oh?”
Chaffer nods before taking a big gulp of liquor. I sip mine before resting it against my chest.
“This place would be nothing without me. The man is…” His jaw clenches as he sucks in a breath through flared nostrils. “The man is a fucking snake.”
I pout my lips and give him a sympathetic look. “He gives you a share of some of the residents’ dues, though, right? I mean, that’s what I’ve heard.”
He stares at me blankly.
I shrug. “In a way, you both share the island. A chunk of a million dollars per resident is a hell of a lot of money to split, so—”
“A million?” He narrows his eyes. “Where did you hear that number?”
“Hmm?”
“It’s seven hundred fifty thousand per resident. Not a million.”
I dart my gaze away. “Oh…”
“Who told you it was a million?”
My shoulders cave as I hug my glass to my stomach. This is going perfectly.
He closes the distance between us, sparking violent tension where he hovers inches from me. He takes my jaw in a tight grasp and jerks it so I’m looking at him. I gasp.
“Who told you it was a million?”
I jump at his growl, but inside I’m snickering. See? These guys are so fucking easy to play.
“Sawyer,” I squeak. If I could figure out how to force myself to tremble, I would. I tense instead.
“Are yousure?”
My head bobs. “I… Yes, I’m sure. B-b-but, maybe it’s only some of the residents, the ones he brings in himself.” I shrink like I’m afraid he’ll hit me. “I’m sure there’s an explanation for the mix-up.”
He glares at me like I’m somehow at fault for Sawyer ripping him off, and I start to think maybe I should’ve picked someone else to have fake told me. Sawyer is the best person I could think of who Chaffer wouldn’t believe if he confronted him. But, fuck, he’s pissed.
So much tension builds in the room that the fearfulness I’m putting off becomes real. I try to take a step back, but his hold on me only tightens.
All at once, he shoves me, and my hands flail before my ass hits the rug. I shuffle backward, my heartbeat quickening.
“Get the fuck out of my house,” he snarls, turning toward the drink cart and leaning with his hands clutching the edges. I wouldn’t be surprised if he picked it up and threw it at me.
I clumsily climb to my feet and hurry out of the room before he decides to shoot the messenger.
I rush down the stairs and to the den, relief a visceral balm to my nerves when I spot Peter as soon as the double doors open. My expression must be panicky because his face pinches with concern as I head his way. He breaks away from the guy talking to him and strides to me with even more urgency than I’m striding toward him with.
When we meet, Peter grabs my shoulders and jerks me to the side, his average frame blocking me from a good chunk of the room. “We need to leave,” he growls in my ear.
“Yeah, no shit,” I spit back. “It worked, he’s fucking pissed, but I’m eighty percent sure he wants to rip my head off. Seriously, I think we may bemoreon his radar now. Don’t be surprised if he shows up at your house asking for more information because—”
“Shut up,” Peter snaps.