game. I slide the window open, my eyes fixed on the spot where the patrol guards meet. Every muscle in my body tenses as they pause to talk, just like they have every other time. Only now, it feels like they’re taking forever to move on and I’m practically bouncing on my toes with impatience.
Finally, they disappear and I seize my opening.
Hurling the blanket-rope out the window, I throw my legs over the side, then turn and shimmy my way down while holding on for dear life. My arms ache, but if yoga has done anything, it’s trained me to support my own body weight. I clamp my knees around the blankets and inch my way downward, gritting my teeth as the breeze makes me sway from side to side. I move faster once my feet hit the top of the patio covering, sitting on my butt and inching toward the edge. The backyard looks deserted, but I can’t be sure if the patio has glass doors that will allow people inside the house to see me. Once I hit the ground, I need to be ready to run.
I dangle about ten feet from the ground, getting a full view of the patio. There’s furniture scattered around a fire pit, and just as I suspected, a pair of enormous French doors and set of panoramic windows allow me to see inside. An open concept makes up the kitchen and a spacious great room, but surprisingly no one seems to be moving around in there.
Letting go, I remember not to lock my knees, going into a crouch and then falling onto my side. Once on my feet I move slowly away from the patio, scanning my periphery for any approaching threats. I can’t believe I haven’t been discovered or stopped by now. For a mafia boss’s house, this place is surprisingly unsecured.
Hope welling in my chest, I’m about to take off at a run when I nearly collide with another person coming from the pool area. Freezing in my tracks, I feel like I’m choking on my tongue as I come face to face with the woman from Diego’s phone screen.
She’s even prettier in person, short and petite with a waifish figure—which is flaunted by a stylish hot pink bikini and matching sunglasses. Her dark hair is wet and clinging to her neck and jaw. A pair of dark eyebrows wing upward as she lowers her frames.
“Holy shit! Did you just climb from that third-story window?”
When I only stand there, stunned and open-mouthed, she laughs.
“That’s hardcore. You must be Elena. Jovan told me all about you.”
“Please,” I whisper, fear making me tremble. “I have to get out of here. Help me.”
She offers a sympathetic look and glances into the house. “No can do, honey. I’m sorry, but … if you happen to climb that fence, I won’t stop you. If anyone asks, I haven’t seen you.”
It’s more kindness than I expected from anyone in this house. “Thank you.”
“You better hurry before the guards come back around,” she says. “They just passed a few seconds ago.”
I was so busy worrying about the mysterious woman that I completely forgot to watch for the guards. With no one else around to stop me, I take off for the fence, skirting the pool and picking up the pace once my bare feet touch grass.
I make my way to the corner where the side fencing meets the back and crouch down, gulping in deep breaths. Certain the guards are still making their circle of the house, I see that my savior has stretched out on one of the loungers next to the pool. It’s now or never.
I start to climb, not caring about how the wood hurts my fingers, or the splinter that slips into my palm. I’m so close to being free; nothing will hurt badly enough to stop me from putting Diego Pérez, his mafia, and my prison room, behind me.
The second I come down on the other side of the fence, male voices ring through the air in Spanish. They sound far off, but I react as if they’re breathing down my neck and take off at a run.
No, no, no!
I knew it was too good to be true. I’ve been spotted and now my chances of getting away have been cut in half. I won’t stop unless someone apprehends me or kills me. Running faster than I ever have in my life, I wait for a bullet that never comes, a death