Page 25 of Axel (Reed Hawthorne Security #6)

Savvy

I come to and shake my head. I’m not at the building anymore.

It takes a moment for my eyes to clear up.

I’m on a cot in a small room. When I try to sit up, I don’t get far.

My wrists are handcuffed to the headboard.

The movement makes me nauseated, and before I can control it, I’m vomiting off the side of the bed.

Tom enters the room. “Oh, yeah. Nasty side effect. It shouldn’t last too long.” He walks to the other side of the room.

“Where am I?” I ask.

He grins. “Somewhere far from where we were. Don’t bother screaming. No one will hear you.”

My stomach churns even more.

Taking in the room, I’m certain I’m not the first person he’s brought here. There are brown stains on the far wall. Is it dried blood? Is Tom a serial killer? There’s no way I could have endured all I did just to end up the victim of a random serial killer. No. It can’t be this way.

“Why am I here?” I ask.

He doesn’t respond. He walks to the door and grabs a bucket. He then pours what looks like water over the floor where I got sick. It all runs to a drain in the middle of the room.

Why is there a drain in the middle of this room? This isn’t good.

I spot a vent hookup on another wall. For a clothes dryer. This was once a laundry room. I’m in a house.

He sets the bucket down and then walks to the bed.

“Why me?” I ask.

Get him talking. That’s what I’ve always heard on television shows. I need to buy time. Who will find me? I didn’t tell anyone which building I was showing him. And I have no idea if we’re even close to the building or my office.

He sits on the bed. “You turned in Bob to the authorities.”

Oh no.

“No, I didn’t,” I say.

He smacks me hard across the face. “No lies. I won’t tolerate lies!”

My face stings from his slap. I want to rub it, but I can’t get my hands close. “I’m not lying! The FBI was already investigating Bob when they came to me.”

He arches a brow. “They came to you? How would they know to come to you? ”

Something tells me that if I’m honest about the form I filled out, he’ll kill me. “Because I worked for him,” I say.

“And they questioned everyone who worked for him?” Tom asks.

Shit. I’m going to get Maggie hurt if I’m not careful.

“I don’t know. Apparently, they were watching him, and they saw I went to his building on the water. That’s what they were interested in.”

“They were watching him?”

“From a building across the street.”

He jumps up and turns back, angry eyes on me. He’s going to hit me again. I have to keep him talking. I suspect this is Marco. If it is, he’d be interested in hearing about his cousin.

“The FBI was after another man, too, named Bennett,” I say.

His eyes widen. “Bennett?”

Bingo. I’d bet everything this is Marco. But I can’t let on that I figured that out.

“Yes, do you know him?”

“It’s none of your business who I know. Describe him.”

Okay, I need to draw this out. “He has brown hair and a tattoo on his neck of a star.”

He sits back down. “How do you know what he looks like?”

I swallow. “He broke into a safe house I was in with FBI agents.”

Marco frowns. “Why would he do that?”

“I don’t know the full story, but from what I overheard, it sounded like one of the agents lured him there. ”

Marco stands, walks to the other side of the room, and then turns back. “What is the agent’s name?”

“Myers.”

“FBI?”

“Yes.”

Marco stares at me. Actually, it’s more like through me. His eyes are devoid of emotion. “Myers. He must pay.” He opens the door and leaves.

The sound of a lock clicks. A car engine starts, and then I hear tires on gravel. He really did leave. Well, maybe Myers will get what’s coming to him now.

I squeeze my eyes shut. No, I really don’t wish the man harm. No one deserves to be hunted down and to live in constant fear. Like I have been. But dammit, Marco wasn’t supposed to be able to get into the country.

Did Myers allow his entrance to catch an even bigger fish? Okay, maybe I do wish harm on Myers.

I’m not sure how much time I have. If Marco drives all the way into the city to Myers’s office and back, I have at least a few hours. No, wait. I’m assuming I’m still near the property I met him at. I could be in the city.

I listen for cars.

It’s too quiet here. Definitely not the city.

I turn my head as best I can to take in the room.

There is one small window up near the ceiling, and the walls are made of cement blocks.

It appears to be a room in a daylight basement.

I turn my body to see if there is any way I can get the cuffs off.

They are attached to a metal railing headboard .

I rock back and forth. It’s loud. I stop and stare at the door. There is no sound, and he doesn’t come back.

I begin rocking again. The bed seems flimsy. If I can make it fall apart, I can get free. I stare up at the window. I’m not sure how I would get up there, but I have to try.

After a few minutes, I fall a few inches as the bed collapses. The metal headboard separates from the base. Yes! I’m able to move my arms down to the floor, and then I lift the wrought-iron headboard up, freeing the cuffs and my arms.

I’m thankful he had a cheap bed frame. Unfortunately, I have no way to get the cuffs off.

Instead, I focus on the window. I grab one of the metal rods from the frame I just tossed aside and jab at the window. After several hits, it cracks. I keep hitting the window until finally, the glass breaks. I continue to smash as much glass out as I can with it.

The window is at my shoulders. There really isn’t much I can grab to hoist myself up. And there is still broken glass on the windowsill.

I scan the room. There is an old kitchen chair in the corner. I grab it and put it on the mattress.

When I stand on it, it cracks. I’m not sure it will hold my weight for long. But it gets me up far enough that I can lean out the window and grab onto the grass and pull myself up.

The chair cracks again, and I fall as it breaks apart.

Dammit!

I try the door, but it doesn’t even jiggle. Whatever lock he used, it’s secure. I stare at the broken chair and mattress. There has to be a way to use it to boost me.

I pull the yellowing sheet that was on the mattress and ball it up. I use it to sweep away the broken glass from the windowsill. The mattress is really firm. I prop it on its side against the wall. I wonder if it will hold me.

I grab the lower window frame and try to place my foot up on the mattress edge. Dammit. I’m not flexible enough.

Okay, that didn’t work, but something will. I stare at the mattress leaned up against the wall. Wait a minute.

I pull the bottom out a bit. This makes it not so tall. I grab the open window frame and kick my leg up, and it lands on the top edge of the mattress.

Yes!

I hoist myself up, using my leg for the boost. Once my upper body is partly through the window, I grab some clumps of grass and pull myself up and out.

I’m free!

I roll onto my back, breathing hard. My arm hurts. I glance down to see blood. I cut myself on the glass. I wrap the bottom of my shirt around it. The last thing I need now is some kind of blood trail leading Marco to where I am.

Speaking of that, where the hell am I? I glance around.

The property is surrounded by trees on this side.

I go around the side to the front of the house.

There’s a dirt driveway. I run down it and am so happy when I stumble upon a road.

A real road. My gut tells me to turn left, so I do.

Now I need to find someone who can help me before Marco returns.