Page 71 of Claiming Liberty

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Page 71 of Claiming Liberty

I stare at him blankly. “Okay.”

His eyes dip to the cigar, and he continues to scrutinize it. It’s a Cuban I bought illegally on a business trip last year. I had four of them, and three went to Chaffer the other night. One I smoked myself while we bullshitted in his den.

I knew Chaffer wouldn’t be able to resist these. I myself had been saving them for a special occasion, and it was the best solution I had for preventing his death. I need a war. That can only happen if there are two opponents.

He examines me while running his finger up and down the cigar. He sets it on the desk and leans back in his chair.

He knows.

I know he knows.

But still, I stand, unflinching.

“Earlier this evening, do you know who came to visit me?” he asks.

I don’t humor him with a response.

“Peter Shaw.”

My brows knit, but I don’t ask the obvious questions of ‘why’ or ‘so.’ I just wait.

“He came to tell me that you were the one responsible for what happened the other night.”

“Did he?” I ask, sounding disinterested. Inside I’m tipping my hat to that son of a bitch. I do all the work, and he pushes me out of the way. Well played.

He’d better hope Chaffer kills me.

Chaffer nods. “He did.”

“Hmm.”

“I didn’t take him seriously, of course. Shawn Miles told me a while ago that your old slave was his sister, so it wasn’t hard to imagine Peter would have it out for you.”

I fold my arms in front of me. “You knew that, and you didn’t bother telling me? He’s been my pilot for the pastyear.”

He lifts the cigar. “Then I got to thinking about these,” he says, his face hardening. He tosses the cigar on the table, his forearms tensing as he flexes. “That’s how he did it, isn’t it? He laced my cigars.”

Howhedid it?

He as in Sawyer?

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’tlie to me. I asked you here because I think it’s time you learned the truth about some things. I’d like you to give me the same courtesy.”

“What things?” I ask, my curiosity genuine.

Chaffer gestures to the chair. “Sit.”

“No. What things?”

“Angel…”

“What things?” Surprised by my raised voice, I take a calming breath and force my fingers to uncurl.

I don’t have any idea what he’s talking about, but my chest starts to tighten when I think about all the othertruthsI’ve learned.

I don’t think I can take another.




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