Pawn (The Pawn Duet #2) - T.M. Frazier Page 0,12

at me for a second, appraising me. I hold my breath, waiting for her to shout something back to Percy, alerting him of my presence. But all she does is shoot me a bored look, obviously deciding that I’m not worth her time. She shuts the door quietly and makes her way down the steps through the courtyard, disappearing around the main building.

I exhale and try to catch my breath, grateful she didn’t say anything or draw attention to my presence.

The portables are up on cement blocks, making it hard to see through any of the windows. I locate a discarded block laying on its side next to one of the trailers and try to lift it. It’s much heavier than I thought, so I settle on having to drag it through the thick mud. It takes a few minutes, but I finally manage to position it under one of the back windows out of view from any potential prying eyes.

I step up and peer inside, cupping my hands around my eyes. There’s a sheer curtain that veils my view but doesn’t obstruct it.

Nothing.

It’s absent of people but full of crap. Mattresses, desks stacked on top of one another, and cases of liquor take up every inch of room. Storage.

Shit. On to the next one. I drag the cement block to the next trailer, and by the time I get there, my arm is burning, and even though the sun has barely lit the sky, I’m sweating profusely. There’s nothing in this one either. I search two more trailers. One houses a sleeping Hoppy on a tiny twin mattress; the other is completely empty.

On my fifth attempt, I peer into the window and spot a small blanket-covered being curled up on the tiny bed.

My heartbeat quickens. “Mindy,” I whisper. I leap off the block and quietly search the perimeter around the trailer for any sign of a guard or any waking members of the Reich.

Nothing.

I tip-toe up the wooden steps leading to the door. It’s locked. Not just locked, but chained from one side to the other with a metal bar screwed in on both sides.

Shit.

I drag another block to the window and set it on top of the other one. Thankfully, it’s not locked, but it is stuck. I remove Pike’s knife from my rain boot and use it to pry open the window, freeing it from the layers of paint coating the weather-stripping underneath.

When I think I’ve done enough to cause some movement, I give it another try. I practically cheer when it creaks open enough for me to crawl inside. Once I find footing on what I realize was the cage that was previously housing my sister, I peer out again to make sure the coast is clear. There’s a small deer grazing at the corner of the field behind the compound, but as far as life outside the window goes, that’s it.

I’ve got to get Mindy out of here before Percy decides her life isn’t worth the trouble she might bring to the Reich. I have no idea what she knows or what she doesn’t know. She hasn’t spoken yet but it doesn’t mean that she can’t. And if they get her to talk, or worse, force her to talk, the possibility of her knowing that they are the ones responsible for our family’s deaths is pretty high, especially considering that they’re the ones who shoved her in a fucking cage.

Way to gain her trust, morons.

“I’ll explain later, Mindy, but we have to go. Now.” I say. I’m about to leap down from the cage when two strong hands grab my shoulders, tugging me back through the window.

My tailbone vibrates as I hit the ground. Hard. I’m dazed and dizzy as the image of a large man standing over me comes into focus.

A large, angry man. One with a Fourth Reich tattoo pulsing against his pale neck.

Percy.

“You’re gonna get yourself fucking killed poking around back here,” he mutters. “What the fuck are you doing out here anyway?”

I sit upright and try to stand, but stumble and fall down again, unable to catch my balance and unable to put too much pressure on my injured leg. I finally manage to get to my feet, but by the time I’m upright, Percy has already nailed a board over the window. I don’t hear anything from within, and I realize the mattresses lining the walls are there for a reason.

A sound buffer.

“What are you doing?” I cry, desperate to