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If all else failed, I was ok breaking my hand to get out of this goddamn cuff.
Thankfully the metal rivet gave way before I had to resort to crushing my own bones. I exhaled a shaky sigh of relief, pulling my trembling hand free from the twisted handcuff.
I tore the bottom part of my shirt off and wrapped it around my forearm to try and stem some of the bleeding before pulling my sleeves down again. It would be fine until I could sit and look at it properly. My jacket was ruined anyway. Assholes. They had no respect for vintage Armani.
Snatching the belt off the ground, I pushed myself into a standing position, leaning against the wall for support. I wrapped the end of the belt around my right hand once and held the buckle loosely in my left. Now, it was time to wait.
And… wait.
Kidnappers were really inconsiderate when it came to timing. I had a husband to get home to, a fuck ton of work to catch up on, and a house remodel to oversee. I didn’t have time to sit around, waiting to be tortured.
At last, heavy footsteps tromped overhead. I tracked their movement above me, imagining the layout from the brief glance I got from my first escape attempt. He was walking toward the basement door.
Sure enough, the lock upstairs turned and the heavy boots clomped down the wooden stairs.
I hadn’t heard anyone else all day. With any luck, he was still alone and in a matter of minutes I’d be free and clear.
The lock outside my room clicked and the deadbolt slammed open. The rusty door swung inward, screeching on its hinges. I had all I could do to stay where I was and not blow my own element of surprise.
When the man appeared around the door, I lashed the belt buckle at his face. The metal bit into the flesh near his eye, resulting in a rush of blood and a string of expletives.
While he was distracted, I darted behind him and slipped the belt over his head and down to his throat. I pulled back with as much force as I could manage against his sizable girth, bending myself backward until he was practically standing on his toes.
He alternated between clawing at his throat and trying to grab for me, gasping and gurgling and turning an interesting shade of mulberry.
Winded, his body slackened and collapsed. I fell with him, keeping the pressure on the belt for a few more minutes until I was sure the fucker was dead.
Scooting away from him, I took another minute to catch my breath. My sleeve stuck to my left arm thanks to a fresh coating of blood that seeped out during the struggle. The shaking in my left hand had spread to the other now, making it somewhat difficult to thread the belt back through my pants.
Once I managed it, I crawled over to the dead man and rifled through his pockets. The only thing I found was a burner phone and a can of dip. No ID. And sadly, no gun or keys.
Tucking the phone in my pocket, I got to my feet again and made my way toward the stairs.
Creeping up them at a snail’s pace, I kept an ear perked for any sound to tell me I wasn’t alone. I’d only ever heard the two of them, so I felt pretty confident I was in the clear.
I reached the top of the stairs without incident, but I paused again, listening. Hearing nothing, I darted into the kitchen and slipped out the backdoor.
Inhaling the night air, I stepped off the back stairs with a little spring to my step. Probably adrenaline, but still. I was free and on my way home, once I figured out where I was. All I smelled was manure and all I saw was the dilapidated little farm my captor’s house sat on. No matter. I’d find civilization again at some point, or at least a cell phone signal.
I was halfway down the driveway, headed for the truck parked near the front of the house, when a pair of headlights turned off the road and lit me up like a beacon.
“Oh, shit.”
The engine revved a second before the tires tore across the gravel. Bullets flew overhead, too quickly to be from one gun. There was at least two shooters, maybe three.
I ducked and spun in the opposite direction. Shouting a string of curses in my head, I made a break for the dark treeline at the rear of the property.
My heart raced as bullets continued to whizz by. I launched myself over a dilapidated picket fence and cut through an overgrown pasture.
A second too late, I saw a fence post listing to the side. Barbed wire sagged between it and another post down apiece. It was too late. I was committed to my course and plowed straight into the rusty spikes.
“Motherfuck!”
I peeled myself off of the barbs, pressing a hand over the gash on my thigh. Could have been worse, Reeve. Could have beenwayworse.
The SUV on my tail burst through the wooden fence as I hobbled over the barbed wire.
Once I hit the trees, I had no idea which way I was running. I aimed for the darkest part of the landscape and hauled ass, praying I didn’t lay myself out by running headfirst into a fucking tree or tripping and breaking my ankle like an idiot in a horror film.
