Page 52 of Claiming Liberty
He looks away. “I’m sorry to bother you.”
“Yes, I bet you are. Where is Sawyer now?”
Cooper shrugs. “Home, I believe, sir. He called the manor to make the request.”
I stare at him another moment, trying to read him. I don’t know Cooper that well, but he’s always come off as a decent enough human being. As decent as a guard can be anyway. I don’t like the way some of the others look at the women, but in the four years he’s been here, I’ve never gotten the impression that his tastes are especially dark. If Sawyer was sending someone here with the intention of killing Elsie, it seems unlikely he’d send Cooper.
“What are you going to do with her?” I ask, my head tilting. “The manor doesn’t have guests. Why would they need whores?”
“The playroom is opening back up tonight.”
My grip on the doorjamb tightens. “What?”
Already? What the fuck is Sawyer thinking?
Cooper’s eyes dart away before he looks into my room at Elsie. “That’s what Mr. Hansley wants.”
The way Cooper says it makes me think it isn’t whathewants.
But his opinion doesn’t matter. Neither does mine.
“Prudence,” I call, glancing at Elsie over my shoulder. The tears shining in her eyes stab me in the throat, but I keep my face hard. “Time to go.”
She waits several seconds, long enough that I start to fear I’ll have to carry her out of here, but finally she gets off my bed and walks to Cooper, her head hanging.
Once they're gone, I walk to my bed and plop down, scrubbing my hands down my face.
This is the right thing to do.
It is.
It really fucking is.
Then why,whydoes it feel so wrong?
I let out a sigh and force myself to stay seated for several minutes. I take deep breaths to calm myself and practice everything I’m going to say to Sawyer in my head.
I’m good at lying. Hell, I’mgreatat lying. It’s cake for me to mask my emotions, to the point where it’s easier not to show how I’m truly feeling than not. But still, I’m not sure how I’ll be able to hide everything from Sawyer.
To say that I’m pissed would be a drastic understatement. There’s rage there, for sure, but it’s a little pathetic just how much hurt is there as well.
He took Lib’s niece. Then he tried to hide it from me.
He betrayed me. There really isn’t any other way to see it, no matter how hard I try.
Finally, when I feel my heart slow and my breaths come in even, I get dressed and head for Sawyer’s home.
* * *
“So what thefuck happened to you?” Sawyer asks, leading me into his den where several empty beer bottles litter the coffee table. He waves a hand over his forehead, and I remember the gash on my hairline.
My hand reaches up on instinct but stops just before I touch it. “A misunderstanding.”
“Ah.” His eyebrows raise then fall with disinterest. “You’re finally getting a taste of what the new girls are like, then. Lots of ‘misunderstandings.’ I’m surprised Liberty never popped you over the head.” Without letting me respond, he waves to the cart. “Drink?”
His sandy-blond hair, usually neatly styled, hangs flat on his forehead, and red rims his eyes. He sniffs as he walks to the drink cart, pulling leftover white dust around his nostrils into his lungs. The smell of booze is carried away with him, but the place still reeks of addiction and sorrow.
“Water,” I reply, glancing around the room as I shuffle to one of two red leather recliners. I sit as Sawyer slams a mini fridge and carries a water bottle to me.