Savage Vandal (82 Street Vandals #1) - Heather Long Page 0,42

since I’d woken up in this room. That one time, Rome had been in the bathroom. The flushing of the toilet was what told me someone was still here.

Speaking of, I got fresh clothes out of the drawer and clean panties. I was down to my last two pairs. The laundry was stacked in the corner, so I supposed I could rinse some of the panties out and wash them in the sink. I gave a little shudder. I could do it, but I’d rather actually wash my clothes.

The day had gone from meh to worse. Not only had I woken up alone with no captor in sight, I woke up to my period. I should have done the math, I wasn’t expecting it though that would explain some of the soreness and discomfort. There was nothing in the way of supplies. So I rolled up toilet paper and made do after my shower.

I would’ve killed for coffee. And some Midol. Maybe a heating pad.

I could’ve gone for getting the fuck out of this room too. I’d been cooped up here for so long, I knew exactly how many cracks there were in the wall and that the painting I’d been staring at was not only painted directly on the wall and not on a framed canvas at all, but that it had the kind of depth and majesty that belonged in a museum.

Sheer. Raw. Talent.

I also wanted to go to the grotto depicted. It was beautiful. The only thing I couldn’t figure out was whether it was sunrise or sunset. And I’d genuinely thought it was a framed canvas. Ugh.

Not even staring at it would relax me. I paced around the room. I’d picked up the books, thumbed through them, and put them back down a dozen times. I probably shouldn’t move so much, I was intimately aware of the toilet paper serving as my only barrier to staining another pair of panties. I had one pair soaking in the sink in the bathroom.

A part of me couldn’t wait for one of the guys to see them. Hopefully, it grossed them out. Or something.

Time dilated, or maybe it really was an hour later, but I’d had it. I wanted out of this room. No food. No people. No coffee. Just. Out. Of. This. Room.

I stalked over to the door and raised my hand like I was going to knock, then hesitated. I hadn’t actually tried the handle, so I twisted it and it opened with a soft click.

Shit.

Now, I felt stupid for not having tried it earlier. The door opened, and I checked the room on the other side. It was dark. No lights on. The other door was six steps to my left.

A shaft of light from my room cut across it and there was a shift of movement in the bed. I froze and then backed up slowly and turned off the light in here. Then I waited. The rustle of sheets ceased and regular, deep breathing filled the silence. There was just a touch of a snore.

Breath slowing, I concentrated. I didn’t want to make too much noise, so I stepped deeper into the room and pulled the door closed silently behind me. The faint click seemed like a crack of gunfire in the darkness, and I winced.

The figure on the bed didn’t stir.

Six steps to the door. The carpet beneath my bare feet was soft and muffled my steps. Braced for all hell to break loose, I turned the handle, but it wouldn’t budge.

Fuck.

Running my thumb over the knob, I found the lock and turned it. My door didn’t have a lock on the inside, just the outside. My door was also only accessible through another room. Nice and sneaky. Assholes.

Unlocked, the door opened easily, and light filtered in from the hall. It wasn’t a lot brighter, but enough to make me squint. I stole a look back at the bed. Sure, it was a horror movie cliché, but I wanted to know who was sleeping there.

A tousled blond head was all I could see beyond a long, muscled arm. So Rome.

His breathing didn’t change, and he didn’t move. Good. Turning my back on him, I looked back out in the hall. Nothing moved, and there were no sounds reaching me. I hadn’t gotten past here the last time I slipped out.

No time to waste. Sooner or later, one of them would come to find me. If I was going to escape, I needed to