needed. It was stashed inside her makeup case.
A place Patrick just never would have thought to look.
The slim vial was actually hidden inside one of her tubes of lipstick. The syringe and needle were secreted inside what appeared to be a mascara wand. Having those suckers made had cost a pretty penny, but it had been worth it. As she drew up a dose, calculating it carefully, the phone in her pocket vibrated.
She pulled it out. Checked the message.
I’m here. Had a feeling it was coming. Ten minutes away.
Tucker and his feelings. Texting him back, she deleted both messages from the memory and slipped the phone back into the zipped pocket of her top. Then she studied the syringe.
She wasn’t sure who was outside her door, but she had an idea. It wasn’t Minton. Minton had left with Patrick earlier, his good little dog. So it was likely either Peretti or Rawlings. Both of them, miserable bastards. They weren’t as big as Minton, thankfully. Wouldn’t need to use as much.
It left just a little bit of the opioid mix, enough for another dose. She had one more needle, and that, she tucked inside her sports bra. Would have to use the same syringe, not very sanitary, but oh well.
The liquid inside that tube wasn’t anything the U.S. government would approve of. Tucker had gotten it for her, slipped it into her hand. For when you need a way out. At first, she thought he meant killing herself.
But then she’d realized what he was talking about.
She couldn’t take anything recognizable as a weapon into this.
But there might come a time when she had to get away, and this very illegal opioid compound would swing the odds just a little bit.
Fight her way out . . .
Get free of this place.
It was time. Tucking the vial into another zippered pocket of her shirt, she stared at the door. Took a deep breath.
An image of Joss’s face flashed through her mind. Regret, anger, misery twisted her heart, but she shoved them all aside. They’d never really had a chance anyway. Not if he’d dismissed her as easily as that.
“Fuck him.” He didn’t matter. Couldn’t matter. And if he was involved in this nightmare, then he’d have to pay as well. Swallowing the knot in her throat, she curled her hands into fists. Thought of all the nightmares. The screams. The memory flashes into Patrick’s mind . . . how many women had suffered.
No more. It stopped now.
It was time to get this done, get the hell away from here, and burn as many bridges as she could while she did it. Then get the hell away.
The one thing she thought she could go after . . . it no longer existed.
She was going to finish the job she’d set out to do. She had the bits and pieces in her mind now, and that was what mattered.
Bits and pieces. Like bread crumbs, she supposed. Or stones . . . stones that made up the trail she needed to follow. It blazed hot and bright in her mind now.
So hot. Burning bright.
“You’re so fucked,” she whispered, thinking of Whitmore.
So very, very fucked.
Casting a quick look at the door, she headed over to the window and peeked outside. Men on the perimeter, inconspicuous and well dressed. They had a pattern, one she’d tried to learn before, but she’d never been out here long enough up until this trip. This time, she’d been out here for more than just a meal, or a dip in the pool. She’d managed to make better note of the areas they patrolled, their timing, all of it.
It wasn’t going to give her a lot of time to make a break for it, but as long as she got out of the house, she figured she’d be okay.
Carefully, she lowered her shields . . . careful, careful . . . The last thing she wanted was a quick visit from her unwanted lover or whoever Joss was. She felt nothing, though. Just cold, empty silence.
Good, she thought, ignoring the hollow ache inside. That was what she wanted, right?
Turning away from the window, she made for the door, pressed her ear to it. It was quiet, but she wasn’t fooled. Somebody was out there. Peretti, Rawlings . . . maybe one of the others she didn’t see much at all.
Who didn’t really matter, though.
As she backed away from the door, she looked around. Distraction . . . needed a distraction. Just inside