Page 36 of Claiming Liberty

I bare my teeth and glare at him. “Excuseme?”

He glances over his shoulder, then back to me. “You were supposed to take longer than this,” he seethes under his breath like he’s pissed that my time with Chaffer was cut short. My fist clenches, and I get the strong urge to punch him. “Walk in front of me very carefully to the door, anddo notlook back.”

My fingers uncurl, and my eyes widen.

Is it Naomi? What am I not supposed to be seeing?

“What?” I ask, leaning to look around him.

He grabs my shoulders and shakes me. “Stop it!”

“Where is she?” I screech, far too loudly.

“Goddamn it, shut up!” he hisses.

“Hey, everything okay?”

Peter yanks his hands away from me and whips his head toward a man coming up to us. “We’re fine.”

I can feel the man’s eyes on me, but I don’t waste another second on him. I jump to my left to see what or who Peter doesn’t want me to see.

Every muscle in my body tenses when Angel’s handsome face comes into view from across the den. His white teeth gleam as he talks to Digby Barton with a posture that comes off as friendly and warm, a rarity for Angel.

He’s here.

He’shere, smiling and carrying on days after we said goodbye to each other. And to make matters worse, he’s buddying up with the man pumping drugs into Naomi.

My heart gets heavy as a brick and sinks all the way to my toes, and I blink slowly as I watch him. Peter gets in front of me and ushers me to the far side of the room to shield me, all while talking to the stranger who intervened in his escape.

I look around Peter to see Angel taking Naomi’s hand. He helps her up before they start toward the door.

My thoughts are sluggish and stuttered, my arms tingling.

“He’s helping her,” I say out loud to myself in a weak voice. “He… He’s helping her.”

“Are you sure she’s okay?” the man asks, his tone skeptical.

“She had too much to drink.” Peter takes my shoulders and pulls me into him, gently this time. I turn my head and stare for only a few seconds before Angel and Naomi come into view. Once they leave, I pry myself away from Peter and head for the door.

“Hope,” Peter warns.

I ignore him, my heavy feet dragging on the carpet. I open the door a few inches and look into the hall. I catch sight of their backs, hand in hand as Angel guides Naomi up the stairs.

No.

No, he… He wouldn’t.

“Hope,” Peter says, right behind me.

Angel and Naomi leave my sight, and Peter pushes me out of the way, walking ahead of me to look. When he confirms that the coast is clear, he shoves the exit doors open and takes my wrist. He drags me out of the mansion while I peer at the staircase over my shoulder like they’re somehow going to reappear, laughing like this is some prank. Like the love of my life isn’t about to take advantage of my drugged-up friend.

He wouldn’t.

He couldn’t.

“He’s helping her,” I say out loud again with more conviction this time.

Peter gives me the side eye and shakes his head as we exit the mansion.