Page 75 of Claiming Liberty
The guard at the front gate spoke into his mic as I approached. He hesitated before letting me through, and now I catch the eye of two more guards as I walk up the path.
I could be paranoid or suddenly feeling as if all these people who were once my allies are now my enemies, which they are, but they aren’t supposed to know it yet.
I’m getting Elsie, then the three of us are getting the fuck off this island. Tonight. Now, preferably.
I don’t know how much truth there is to Chaffer’s ‘theory’ about Beth, but it only makes sense that Sawyer sent Jasper to Spain to kill Liberty. While I can understand why Sawyer might have done what he did, I can’t forgive his actions, and I won’t be sticking around to fight for him. Or warn him.
He is officially the enemy. No more gray area.
Another brute of a man—unrecognizable to me—stands in front of the manor door with his thick arms crossed over his massive chest, not budging when I step up to him. I glance around a moment, the yard lit up by outside lights, and spot multiple men I don’t recognize. Sawyer seems as prepared for a war as Chaffer.
That isn’t my problem.
“You plan on letting me pass?” I ask, my tone annoyed although anxiety blooms underneath it. They could stop me from taking Elsie. Or they couldtry.
“Mr. Hansley has requested you meet him at your residence.”
My residence.
Where Lib is.
My fingertips begin to prickle, but I hide the flush of worry from my expression.
“Did he say what he wants?”
The beast of a man just stares, looking like he wishes I would challenge him so he has an excuse to pummel me. He has a few inches and about fifty pounds on me, so I won’t lie … he’d have a good chance. Still, he obviously doesn’t know my reputation among Sawyer’s guards.
“Fine,” I growl at the brute, stepping off the porch.
As I make my way to my home, my muscles wind tighter with each step.
She’s hiding. Of course, she’s hiding. She’s fine. I can relax.
And I try to, taking deep breaths in through my nose and out my mouth, but the whole time I know I’m lying to myself. He must’ve found Lib. The question is, what is he going to do about it?
There are two guards on my back patio when I arrive.Two.
More anxiety.
More fear.
Without speaking to either of them, I walk through my back door. My face is as hard as I’ve ever felt it, but my composure is forced. I want to scream.
“Angel,” Sawyer calls from the living room.
I stiffly walk that way as I square my shoulders, pausing when I spot him by my couch. Two drinks, probably Brandy, are poured into glasses gifted to me by Sawyer years ago, both resting on the coffee table beside a bottle of … yep, Brandy.
“Come.” He beckons me over with a wave. “Let’s have a drink.”
“Are the men outside necessary?” I ask, slipping my hands into my pockets while slowly strutting up to him like a predator would its prey.
He shrugs. “I don’t know, Angel. Are they?”
I fight the urge to peer up the stairs, as if Lib will be there with a finger to her lips to assure me it’s all okay. That she wasn’t caught. That she isn’t already dead.
She could be dead.
My heart stutters, and icicles coat the hairs on the back of my neck. I mentally survey the room, searching for the closest weapon without taking my eyes off Sawyer. The Brandy bottle might be my best bet.