Kiss Me in the Dark Anthology - Monica James Page 0,16
the moon is my beacon, allowing me to see that on the table lies a black, long-sleeved shirt and a shiny key—the key to my cuffs. My heart begins to pound.
Saint must have taken off the necklace, intent on changing, but the fact it’s still down here has me guessing that whoever is upstairs was unexpected and Saint greeted them half dressed.
Is this stranger a friend or foe?
Steadying my breathing, I listen for any clue as to who they may be, but I can’t make out anything specific, just a clutter of voices. It’s now or never.
The table is a few feet away. Looking back and forth between it and the hatch, and ensuring the voices are still present, I tongue the corner of my mouth and slide my body off the seat, extending as far as I can go. My arm is jerked from its socket as I stretch out, willing my body to grow just a few more inches.
“Come on,” I growl, craning my neck to see how far away I am. I kick my foot out, hoping I’ll be able to loop it around the leg of the table, but I’m still too far away. Sweat gathers along my brow as I extend my leg, but it’s not enough. “Shit.”
I try to maneuver my arm to give me some more slack, but it’s no use. Sighing, I study my escape, and the few measly feet separating me from it. I know what I have to do. Chewing the inside of my cheek, I rotate my arm backward, muting my whimpers as I reach out. Tears sting my eyes as I continue pushing my body until I hear a pop. My shoulder gives way, and I stretch those few extra inches to be able to loop my foot around the leg of the table and drag it toward me slowly, ensuring I don’t make a sound.
My shoulder throbs, and I’ve chewed the inside of my cheek until I’ve drawn blood, but when that table is within reach, I slide the shirt toward me and grab the necklace with the tips of my fingers. Whimpering in relief, I don’t waste a moment as I unlock myself.
The moment I do, I gnaw at my lip to stifle my pained breaths as I cup my elbow to support my shoulder. Inhaling slowly, I calm myself because I need to focus on popping my dislocated shoulder back into place.
I drop my injured arm by my side, flinching when it flops lifelessly. I then begin to rotate my shoulder backward as far as it can go before slowly bringing it forward. The pressure in the joint is unbearable, and I bite my fist to mute my screams. Closing my eyes and mentally counting to three, I jar it forward quickly, and it pops back into the socket with a snap.
I only know how to do this thanks to the first-aid skills Lea taught me.
My eyes flicker as I almost pass out from the pain. But I shake my head and breathe in and out heavily. Once the dizziness subsides, and I think I can walk without throwing up, I head for the small window near the sink and cautiously peer out of it.
I ensure to stay out of sight, shielding myself as I scope out what’s going on outside. I can’t see much, just a flurry of shadows. Cursing, I decide to use the window in the bathroom. Hobbling toward it, I brush the sweaty hair from my eyes and position myself so I can hopefully see what’s going on outside.
I can hear the voices clearer. One belongs to Saint. And another deep, menacing voice belongs to a stranger. Craning my neck, I stand on tippy toes for a better look, but when my vision focuses on a figure, I almost fall from my perch.
Ensuring I’m not seeing things, I press my nose to the glass, and when I see the unmissable uniform of a police officer, adrenaline soars through me, and I run for the hatch. My breath is heavy, and my heart is in my throat because the police are here. In moments, I will be rescued. This must be because of Drew. I feel awful for doubting him for even a second.
Charging up the stairs, I throw open the hatch and almost fall flat onto the deck as my feet can’t keep up. “Help me! Please!” However, what I see before me has me skidding to a sudden stop.