“No! You fucking promised! Seventy-two hours aren't up. Me coming here shouldn't change that...”
He looked back at me and winked. The redhead groaned, shaking underneath his knife, her eyes spinning wildly. I could practically see her life flashing in the wide black pupils.
There was a long, tense moment where I thought he was going to do it. I thought he'd cut her throat, ruin everything I came here to do, driving me insane as a nice little bonus. I held my breath, all I could do to stop the anger from throwing me at him like a human bullet.
“You know what? Fuck it.” He stepped back, leaving Christa to fall back on her chair of misery. “It'll be a lot more fun dismembering this bitch in front of you. I'll be sure the Pussies and your old man get it all on tape. It'll be a sweet fucking preview of what's coming to you if they don't get their asses here in – what? – we must be down to about fifty hours. Okay, whore. We'll stick to the original deadline. I'm a man of my word.”
Hot, angry, stale oxygen pumped in my lungs. I watched him give me a nasty grin and then grab the door, joining his men outside.
I walked over to Christa and held her until she stopped fretting. It took a long time. Feeling her calm and soften in my arms helped me keep time, a long count of minutes and hours. It was the longest I'd ever kept count in my head, keeping it going long past what had to be midnight.
Just hold on, Christa. Hold on. You'll be free before dawn, or I'll die trying.
I felt bad for slapping her. But it was all I could do to get her up, make sure she was able to stand. I made Christa walk back and forth, wall-to-wall, several times. If they'd fucked up her legs some way, then everything would go to shit.
No, she could walk. The woman was just tired, dizzy, broken. I'd lead her out, slow and steady, as soon as I got the door open.
It was finally time. I pulled the locksmith kit out of my pocket, one of those cheap Houdini things. The thick storage door was definitely going to be tougher than the crappy little room they'd held me in, but I had to try.
It slid into the lock and sank deep. I twisted it, pressing on the handle, praying it wouldn't make too much noise and attract unwanted attention.
Christa watched behind me. Having her eyes on me was like feeling God watching, or maybe daddy eyeing me from above, desperate to see if I pulled this off.
Shit, shit. It was much harder than anything I expected. No matter how I pushed, jiggled, or swept it around in there, I couldn't seem to –
Click.
The thunk echoed loudly. I tested the handle and almost jumped up and shouted with joy when I felt it slide all the way, forcing the door to give way and creak open. There was no time for celebration.
I grabbed Christa and led her out, dragging her toward the back exit as quickly as I could. Running into one evil faced bastard could ruin us, but I'd done my part. Everything came down to luck now, and I prayed as we stepped outside, working our way around the huge garages, toward the gate.
If there was a separate exit that wasn't fenced off, I didn't know it. I had to work fast on what little I knew about this place. Christa groaned a few times when I tried to make her move faster, but she handled it better than I expected – better than a woman who'd just been damaged should.
I thought the lights on the clubhouse were motion detectors, but they never came on. Luck smiled at us in the darkness, urging us closer, straight toward the manual switch embedded in cement several feet away from the big gate. This one was more primitive than what the Devils had at their place – I'd watched men simply tap the big button on several occasions. There was no code to exit.
It was my turn to do the same. Christa stood in front of the bars, just like I told her, staring at me in the darkness as I tapped the dirty plastic key.
The gate chugged open.
She hit the pavement as soon as the gate gave her enough room. Joy pulsed through me watching her survival instinct kick in, the hellish urge to run like nothing else. I stood there stupidly for a couple seconds, and then it was my turn. I ran toward the open gate and slowed when I saw my shadow.
What the hell was it doing there in the night? Crap!
The floodlights were on. I got two steps outside before I heard boots thundering behind me. Christa was halfway across the road. She looked back and screamed, right as several men tackled me to the ground.
“Go! Don't fucking stop!” I yelled. “Keep going! Keep –“
A brute hand grabbed the back of my head and slammed me into the pavement, face first. I tasted blood and I couldn't speak. I looked up, seeing headlights. A vehicle was slowing next to Christa and I thought it was them.
But the man inside driving looked like Rabid. Someone screamed go, go, go before the gunshots exploded over my head.