Pike (The Pawn Duet #1) - T.M. Frazier Page 0,31

watch us, their eyes following until we are somewhere I recognize.

The backdoor of Pike’s Pawn.

Thorne presses a few buttons on the keypad next to the door, and the lock clicks open. She turns the handle and pushes it open with her foot, turning us sideways through the doorway. We move past the small office where this entire dramady took a turn for the worse, for me at least, and make our way through a storage room to the foot of a tall narrow stair case. “Up you go,” she says.

I give her a there’s no way I can make it up there look.

She rolls her eyes and removes my arm from her shoulder. “I’ll stay behind you the entire way and make sure you don’t fall. One step at a time as they say in NA. Come on.”

I don’t ask about the NA part because I’m too busy trying to lift my feet high enough to take each step when my thigh muscles are shaking with the strain. When my foot lands on a step, Thorne pushes me forward from behind. Step. Push. Step. Push. We repeat this until we reach the top of the stairs a mere ten minutes later.

Thorne helps me through a door into a dark apartment and then through another door into a small but neat bedroom.

“Is this your room?” I ask.

She closes the door and enters a code into a keypad on the wall, just like the one for the backdoor, and a lock clicks in place. “No, this is Pike’s apartment.” She guides me to yet another doorway. “Here, lean against this wall,” she says, leaving me in yet another doorway. She turns on a light revealing that this one is to a small but clean bathroom much in need of a remodel with yellow shower tiles and a pink porcelain sink.

She sets down the plastic bag on the counter and removes a pair of black yoga pants and a light grey sweater, setting them on back of the toilet. She pulls out a bunch of toiletries. Soap. Shampoo. A toothbrush and toothpaste. She arranges them in the shower and on the counter.

She sniffs the air around me and pinches her nose. “I recommend that you do the ole scrub-a-dub and rinse at least twice. You think you can manage?”

I nod, pushing off the wall and testing my legs. They’re tingling with a pins-and-needles feeling, but they’re holding up. “Thank you.” I stretch my arms above my head and bend my neck to both sides, cracking the stiff joints again. “I mean it. Thank you, Thorne.”

Her smile is uncomfortable and tight as she leaves. She shuts the door and the lock clicks back in place.

I glance into the bathroom where Thorne set out all the things I’ll need for a shower. I stifle a moan at the thought of hot water running over my sore muscles and decide that’s exactly what I need to get my blood flowing before I can assess the situation further and plan my escape.

I smile to myself. Step one has been accomplished. I’m untied. Maya will be proud.

I reach into the yellow-tiled shower and turn on the spray. I strip off my t-shirt and panties, groaning at the aching in my bones. It’s a slow process, but I manage it. I ball up the only items of clothing I’ve worn in five days and toss them on the floor next to the toilet. I’d throw them in a bio-hazard disposal receptacle if I could, they smell that bad, but unfortunately this isn’t a lab, and there isn’t one handy.

Leaning on the counter, I look into the mirror. My cheeks are sunken and my eyes have dark half-moon shadows underneath. The bruise on my forehead from Pike’s headbutt is fading although I never got to see how bad it was to begin with. My dark hair is greasy, peppered with dirt and dust from the garage. It’s all clumped together in thick sections, sticking out in all directions like a dirty Medusa.

The steam covers the mirror and distorts my disheveled image. I let go of the counter and slowly pad over to the shower, stepping into the heat. I take Thorne’s advice and shampoo my hair twice, adding a third for good measure. I pile the conditioner in my hair, and I don’t rinse it out until I’ve finished scrubbing my body raw with a washcloth and fresh bar of soap. It smells like cucumber and fruit, but any scent