not being considerate enough to kidnap us during the summer.
Or better yet—not at all.
I strain to hear any sounds to warn me our escape has been discovered. A scraping of the drawers in front of the bedroom door. The clatter of footsteps. Angry voices.
But the only noises I can hear are the pounding of my pulse in my ears and my rapid breaths. If we’re lucky, we’ll be long gone before they notice we’re missing.
Tabitha is pressed against the wall when I emerge from under the tight crawl space. A couple of her blouse buttons have come undone, and a few are now missing. There’s a small tear in one sleeve. Streaks of dirt are smudged on her face, and her pencil skirt is covered with mud and pieces of dried leaves.
I can’t imagine I look any better. But I’d be more than happy to put up with a lot worse if it means being far away from here…preferably in Landon’s arms (or at least his good arm).
I focus on the memory of how it feels to be wrapped in them. How it feels to cuddle with him on his couch while watching Christmas movies. It’s the memory of those two things that keeps me moving, that gives me a reason not to give up.
Love and hope, that’s all I’ve got keeping me going at this point.
It’s enough for now.
But if winter coats and boots should magically materialize, I wouldn’t complain.
“What now?” Tabitha asks.
Good question.
“The last house I saw when they drove me here was at least a mile away.” I point in that direction. “I have no idea if there’s anything closer the other way.”
Her face pales. “I can’t walk that far, not in these shoes.” She gestures at her cute red stilettos with white bows—like some sort of candy cane.
She’s right, though, especially with the amount of snow we have to walk through. If she doesn’t lose her shoes in the snow, there’s still the risk of a heel breaking.
Plus, our feet will freeze off long before we find help.
I shiver uncontrollably and attempt to warm myself up with my hands. That’s about as useful as opening a locked door with an ice cream cone. “Their car is parked out front. Maybe Big, Bad, and Ugly left his keys in the ignition.”
She takes a step forward. “Great, let’s go find out.”
I grab hold of her arm. “If they’re in the living room, they’ll see us. We have to be stealthy about it.”
Fortunately, I chose my dark-green knit dress for the concert and not my burgundy one. Tabitha’s neutral-colored outfit does a better job blending into the background.
Channel your inner pine tree.
In first grade, I was cast in the role of a tree in our school play. I was a fantastic tree, if you ask me. So, all I have to do is relive that moment…minus the song I had to sing.
We inch our way closer to the front of the house, listening for any sound to indicate our escape has been noticed.
Part of me—a tiny part—is curious why Eric and Evil Asshole haven’t already killed me. The FBI discovered there’s a contract on me. In my grandfather’s world, that generally means murder.
So why am I still standing?
Both great questions—that I can deliberate after we’re far, far, far away from here.
The car isn’t completely out in the open, but close enough. It also doesn’t help that the deciduous trees are naked. Foliage would’ve at least provided some shelter from watchful eyes.
We sneak toward the car, using whatever we can find to provide further cover. Every part of me screams to run the rest of the way. I ignore it.
The world around us is silent, as if nature is watching us with bated breath. I’m surprised the loud and rapid thub thub thub of my heart doesn’t spook an equally loud bird in a nearby tree—and send it squawking in alarm.
We finally make it to the front passenger door, and I slowly open it. It’s not locked, which I take as a positive sign.
Too bad it’s the only positive thing about this escape attempt. The key isn’t dangling in the ignition.
At the realization we’re screwed, it feels like someone hurled a boulder at my stomach, knocking me on my butt.
Double damn.
Okay, Plan A didn’t work. Now I just need a Plan B.
I glance up at the sky, in case Plan B is written there. If it is, the thick clouds and falling snow are obscuring it.
Keeping my head down, I