Protecting Tessa (Special Forces: Operation Alpha) (Brotherhood Alliance #6)

Chapter 42

42

T essa huddled on one of the pallets in a corner of the room, her arms wrapped around herself in an attempt to stay warm.

The room was cold, and a chill was seeping into her bones.

She closed her eyes briefly. When she opened them and checked her watch, an hour had passed. For a while, she heard the muffled voices of Marty and Damien, but that had been a couple of hours ago.

No, it was silent. Not exactly silent, since she heard water dripping and little feet scurrying around.

Thankfully, the mice, or rats, hadn’t bothered her, but for how long? Her stomach growled, and her feet hurt. Somehow, in the chaos, she lost her shoes when they kidnapped her.

She had to get out of here.

Damien hadn’t mentioned when Malina would arrive, but Tessa did not want to be here when she did. Somehow, she had to break out or protect herself. The question was how.

What could she use? The pallets? She’d tried to pull one apart before, but no luck. The damn things were heavy, and they must have used a ton of nails to secure them together.

The chair? Maybe. She got up and examined the rusty chair more closely. It was heavy, so there was no way she could swing it at someone. One arm was hanging, and she tugged at it. And tugged. “Come on.” She cursed. She tugged hard, and finally, a piece broke free, but it was too short. Tessa wasn’t sure how that would help her.

She looked around again. There were pipes running out of the room but no vent, so she couldn’t crawl through the ductwork. The room was a prison, with no tools in sight.

Tessa sat down on her crate in despair. Tears rolled down her cheeks. She was going to die here.

Giving herself a few minutes to cry and feel sorry for herself, Tessa took a deep, shuddering breath. She was not a quitter. She wouldn’t die a coward. Think!

Getting up, she searched the room again, looking for something—anything—that could help her. Walking over to the metal door, she inspected it closely. A light bulb went off.

The hinges were rusty. If the hinges were rusted, they would be weak. If they were weak, she might be able to force them loose. Now if she could find something to push up the hinge pin and open the door.

She scanned the room again. Her stomach clenched with tension. Nothing. No tools, no weapons, no box saying, “Open me.” Nothing.

She wasn’t giving up, however. Not now. Not ever.

Tessa got down on her hands and knees and peered under the pallets. Her hands sank into something cold and squishy, and she stifled a scream. A quick glance showed only dust bunnies—lots of them, a few screws and nails, and several coins. Then her breath caught. Something gleamed way in the back … could it be? Yes! A screwdriver!

She stretched her arm out, but it was too far away. Now the question was how to get that screwdriver. She carefully removed each pallet one by one into another stack while ignoring the pain and splinters. The exercise wore Tessa out. She was weak from being tied up and weak from hunger but determined to get free. When she finally moved the last pallet, she was able to grab the screwdriver and almost kissed it.

Tessa staggered to her feet and walked over to the door, pressing her ear against it to listen. Silence. No footsteps, no voices. Were Marty and Damien gone? Or waiting for her to escape? It didn’t matter. It was now or never. She had to get free.

Tessa slid the screwdriver under the first hinge pin and pushed. And pushed. And pushed.

Nothing.

The pin didn’t budge. She bit down a scream. Sweat dripped down her face as she adjusted her grip and tried again with every ounce of strength she had. Forcing back another scream, Tessa took a deep breath. She was going to get out of here or die trying. Taking another jab at it, she pushed up with all her strength.

The pin shifted. Just barely, but it was enough to encourage her to try again. The screwdriver dug painfully into her hand, but she wasn’t stopping.

Inch by inch, she pushed until it popped out and fell to the ground with a metallic thump.

She froze, holding her breath, listening. Not hearing any sound on the other side, she repeated the action two more times. When the last pin dropped to the floor, she tested the door. Thank God the door was loose on its frame.

Her heart thundered. Now all she had to do was pop the door hinge up and get out.

The door let out a small creak as she eased it open. She stopped.

Not hearing a sound, she moved silently through the massive space, listening for anything out of the ordinary.

Her eyes darted to the chair Damien had tied her to, the rope now dangling uselessly. She hadn’t noticed how huge and decrepit the warehouse was before—abandoned machinery, broken shelves leaning precariously and piles of who knew what scattered haphazardly around.

It was dimly lit by a flickering streetlight and the faint glow of the moon and shadows that seemed to shift and move.

She crept cautiously toward a large window. Peering out through the dirty glass, Tessa saw an empty parking lot except for a black van. It was probably Damien’s, she guessed. She wondered where the two men were but wasn’t going to spend a lot of time worrying about them. How to get out was her biggest priority.

Her heart raced as she noticed a door at the end of the room. Tessa wondered if it was connected to an alarm and then saw a faint red glow. Nope. Not going that way.

Then she spotted a double front door and ran toward it. Reaching the doors, she shoved one open and stepped outside into a muggy night. The humidity clung to her skin and clothes, but she didn’t care. She was free.

Her first step onto a gravel path sent a stabbing pain through her foot. She almost screamed, remembering too late that she wasn’t wearing shoes. Looking down, she saw that her feet were smeared with blood and dirt. No matter, she couldn’t stop.

She had no idea where she was heading.

As she ran, she found herself in an abandoned industrial area. Surrounding her were buildings in various stages of decay, some boarded up; shattered windows; and graffiti—lots of graffiti. The air was ripe with rot and smelled faintly of sewage.

Where the hell was she?

Overgrown weeds pushed through cracks in the sidewalk. Somewhere in the distance, she heard the faint sounds of dogs barking and traffic. She passed several abandoned cars but kept running, only stepping on thorny weeds several times.

Tessa looked at her watch: 5 a.m. and all was not well, but the good news was, she was free and still alive. And she wasn’t going to stop until she was safe.