Page 8 of Claiming Liberty

Robert puts his hand on my shoulder. “Darling, could you find Mrs. Ash? She’s been hoping to talk to you all evening.” My shoulders sag at the hint of condemnation in his tone.

This is the first event he’s taken me to as his date, and with the way it’s going, it’ll probably be the last.

I don’t even know how I feel about that.

I nod and move to leave, but he touches my arm, so I pause, looking at him expectantly.

“Don’t you want to say goodbye to my colleagues, dear?”

His colleagues? You mean the ones eye-fucking me?

I try to swallow my pride as I look between Angel and Sawyer, try to put out the fire inside of me. If these guys are somehow important to Robert or his business…

I guess I can suck it up.

“Bye,” I mutter.

Sawyer snickers when I walk toward the door, and I shoot a glare his way.

“Pleasure meeting you,” he says without an ounce of shame.

I look at Robert, thinking maybe he’ll stick up for me, but he doesn’t, and it makes my heart sink. I can’t get my neighbor’s advice out of my head.

I turn and head back inside, in search of some woman I may or may not have met but certainly don’t remember.

All the while wondering if I’ll ever be offered a goddamn jacket.

1

LIBERTY

PRESENT DAY

With my collarbone pressing against my knees, I inhale the same foul smell I’ve breathed since Angel’s pilot, Peter, zipped me into this suitcase, the largest Robert had in his closet. It still isn’t nearly big enough for my cramped body.

The smell is Robert’s blood … and probably some of his brains too. You’d think eventually my senses would stop registering it, but it’s too potent to ignore.

I can’t say I hate it.

The grinding of the suitcase’s wheels suddenly ceases, and keys jangle.

We’re at his home.Pleaselet us be at his home.

When Peter had the idea of sneaking me onto the island in a suitcase, it sounded great. All I had to do was keep quiet when we landed and stay tucked into myself as he unloaded me from the plane.

It worked. No one searched the suitcase when we got off the plane, so Peter must be as trusted amongst the security team as he claims.

I don’t know all of the details of what transpired since then, but I’m almost positive we were in a vehicle, and at one point, a boat. I thought I was seasick the day Angel took me out with his friends, but that was nothing compared to this.

Eventually, the stomach lurching eased, the suitcase raised, then started to roll.

And here we are.

My body stiffens as the suitcase is lifted into the air, gravity crushing my body into itself. I let out a low groan when my knee presses against my chest wound, and I pinch my lips together before another sound can escape in case Peter and I aren’t alone.

A loud creak sounds, like a storm door would make, then metal grinds with metal. I imagine a key being inserted into a lock. A moment later, I’m swinging as Peter moves forward then gently sets the suitcase down. I’m tipped onto my side before the zipper slowly comes undone.

I turn my head to look up at Peter who’s crouched over me with a concerned look on his face. “Are you all right?” he asks. “You’re pale.”