That, and my own urgent need to eliminate that fear. If paying this asshole whatever he thinks Paige owes him will do that, I’ll pay fuckingtriplethe amount.
“How much interest?”
“A man like that,” Cabot says, “hundreds of thousands.”
Paige rears back like he physically slapped her. “What?”
Cabot shrugs, unapologetic as he says, “It’s what I would ask for. Thirty-year loan at thirty percent…” He shrugs, then looks at me to do the math.
But I don’t need to. It doesn’t matter.
It’s at least two-hundred twenty-five thousand pounds in interest alone. Assuming he went for the thirty percent as Cabot suggested.
But who fucking knows with this guy? We can’t assume to know him or understand his thought process. He’s a man who beats and rapes women, trades them like fucking cattle.
That’s all we know for sure.
Focusing on Paige, I nudge her until she looks at me again. “Let me help you.”
She scoffs, her mouth dropping open, then she quickly closes it and shakes her head, looking at me like I might have sprouted two of my own. “Do you hear yourself? Cabot just saidhundreds of thousands, Travis—”
“Right. And I have it.”
Cabot makes a sound of disagreement in his throat. “We’re not paying him off.”
I whip my head toward my best friend. “With all due respect, this isn’t your decision to make.”
Paige sighs and pushes out of my arms before I can stop her. When she stands, she looks down at me, and there’s a renewed fire in her eyes. Even if that indignation is directed at me, I love to see it. And it’s so much better than sadness or fear. “It’s not your decision to make either. Excuse me.”
“Fucking stubborn woman,” I murmur once she’s left the room. I look at Cabot and he sighs. “Get me his—”
“Information,” he finishes for me. “I know. You’re going to do this against my advice. Of course you are. You haven’t listened to me a day in your life.” He glances down the hall in the direction Paige disappeared, then looks back at me. “You two are match made in fucking heaven.”
Right?Like I’ve been saying.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Paige
It doesn’t take long to find the girls. Once I’m down the hall and out of earshot of the domineering assholes in the living room, I can hear Bronte and Rylan’s murmured voices and I follow the sound to a massive room at the end of a long hallway.
They’re both curled up on a raised, four-poster bed, a blanket covering their legs as they discuss all that they’ve learned in the past twenty-four hours.
My heart breaks as I look at them. Rylan shouldn’t even be involved, and Bronte…
Oh how I’ve tried to shield her from this.
As if sensing me, my daughter lifts her head, and when our eyes meet, I can’t read her expression, can’t tell if she’s ready to talk to me or—
I swallow hard at the thought.
Or if she hates me.
After a moment, Rylan follows her gaze and slowly climbs down from the bed. She walks toward me, then stops beside me. She pats my arm, then whispers, “I think she’s okay.”
My face crumples and I squeeze my eyes shut.
“Go on,” Rylan encourages quietly. “I’ll go see what the guys are up to.”