Page 95 of Taming Liberty

I walk over to her, and she must hear or sense me because she stirs and turns over, her sleepy smile turning to a grimace as she sees I’m not Robert.

I shove a hand over her mouth and climb onto the bed. She shrieks behind my hand, and I realize I’m pointing the gun at her. I lower the gun and set it on the bed, never breaking eye contact with the woman.

“I’m going to take my hand off your mouth, but don’t scream. If you scream, I’ll kill you both,” I lie. Jesus, look what I’ve become.

I slowly remove my hand and pick up the gun, pointing it to the right of her. Her chest heaves with each heavy breath, but she doesn’t move a muscle otherwise. I pity the way she chooses not to fight, putting her life in my hands so easily. I probably would’ve reacted the same way to an intruder before going to the island.

I gesture to the sheet. “Cover yourself up.”

She tugs the sheet to her chin, her teeth chattering.

“Do you know who I am?”

She peers at me for a moment as if she needs to think it through. She shakes her head.

“I’m Robert’s wife. Has he told you about me?”

Her eyes widen, but she doesn’t say anything.

“Well?” I ask, growing impatient.

“H-he said you left him.”

I lower the gun and hope that’ll take some of her fear away. She and I are on the same team, whether she realizes it or not. “He lied. He sold me to a private community of human traffickers.”

Her hand goes to her mouth. “What?”

I pull my hoodie up so she can see my cuts and bandages, although I’m sure my face isn’t pretty either. “I got all these when I escaped,” I lie again. It sounds better than telling her I was in a car accident. I pull my hoodie down and look at her seriously. “I know we don’t know each other, but I promise you, right now I’m doing you a favor. You need to leave. If you call the police, he’ll be dead before they get here anyway.”

She flits her gaze between me and the bathroom. When her eyes focus on me, her face turns a sickly color.

I stand up from the bed and nod to the door. “Go.”

She grabs a few articles of clothing, then bolts for the door. I sit down on the edge of the bed and wait for Robert to get out of the shower. If the woman is going to call the police, I won’t have much time, so I don’t plan on giving him a big speech. I’m too tired for it. I just want him dead.

The shower shuts off, and maybe a minute later, he walks into the bedroom with a towel around his waist.

He jerks to a stop when he sees me. I remain seated but raise the gun to point at him.

“Liberty,” he says, his face turning white.

“Hi, honey. Miss me?”

His head whips to the door, then he scans the room like one of Sawyer’s guards might pop out and save him.

“How did you…?” His mouth opens and closes like a fucking guppy.

I stand and amble toward him, the gun pointed at his head. He backpedals into a wall.

“You fucked up, honey,” I say, my voice ice. “If a man is willing to pay a million dollars to keep a woman alive, she must be important to him.”

His eyes leap around as his mind spins, trying to figure out how this could be possible.

“Angel Ramos was the man you accused me of having an internet affair with,” I say, mercifully saving him the headache.

His eyes widen to saucers, and he sucks in a strangled breath. “What?” He looks at the barrel of the gun, then back at me. “He let you go?”

I nod. “Get on your knees.”

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