Chapter 37
Greer
Time’s passed since Helms left both of us here cuffed. The girl won’t speak to me, which I think will be crucial for us getting out of here, because she’s been here longer and will know more about his temperament and what we’re in for.
Over the last hour, I’ve worked the small gun out of my boot, the only place Helms didn’t check on his perusal of my body after coming back in the room earlier.
It was as if he had remembered he hadn’t done his due diligence. Makes me wonder if that’s how he is as a cop, too.
The girl’s got her eyes on me, boring a hole through my cheek as I work my cuffed hands, my hip burning at the angle I have to have my leg at to get inside my boot.
“Fuck,” I groan, stretching my leg back out in relief.
“I’m Greer, by the way. I don’t know if it matters to you to be on a first-name basis, but if we’re going to die down here, we should at least know one another, I guess,” I spout, curling my leg back up to wiggle my hands back down inside of my boot.
Though it’s likely the reason Helms didn’t check them.
“I’m Charlotte.”
I nod, biting my lower lip as I try to get my laces undone. Curse Koen for telling me to keep them tightly bound for safety.
“Well, Charlotte, if I ever get this gun free, I’m going to get us out of here. I need you to close your eyes and cover your ears the best you can when you see me aim, alright?”
“You have a gun?” she breathes, sitting straighter on the bed.
“I do.”
“He’ll hurt us really bad if you don’t kill him,” Charlotte says as if she doesn’t believe that I have the balls.
I bite the inside of my cheek, apprehension curling in my veins like thick, black smoke. “How old are you, Charlotte?”
“Eleven.”
I swallow, too young to see a man die, but also too young to be the captive of one.
“You shouldn’t be caught up in this. All of this is adult business, and I’m so sorry you’re in the middle, but some adults are…” Words fail me, and I sigh.
My fingertips rest on the warm metal of the gun in my boot that’s steady and comforting, promising an end to this for Charlotte, and that whatever she’s endured doesn’t become my life, too.
“Stupid assholes,” Charlotte finishes for me.
Despite our situation, I laugh. “Couldn’t have said it better myself.”
“Just do as you’re told when you see me pull the gun, okay?” I whisper, not knowing if he has audio in the room, but it’s too late to worry about that because I’ve already said too much.
Charlotte nods, some confidence etching onto her face that I can get us out of this.
I don’t know that I will, but pride expands in my chest that I gave her some solace.
I finally worm the gun free and place it beneath my right leg. It’ll still be a fight to get it free with Helms in the room, but it’s the best shot we have.
“What grade are you in?” I ask her when I sense the tension reforming in the air between us, the longer we sit in uncomfortable, ringing silence.
“Fifth,” she says shakily.
“Almost to middle school,” I reply.
The conversation may seem nonsensical given our current situation, but kids need distraction, even in the form of mundane conversation.
“I’m excited for middle school. Dad says he’ll let me have a phone because I’ll be riding the bus next year.”
“I hated middle school, but I wasn’t… popular. I was the girl with greasy hair and a book in her hands.”
“You don’t seem like that kind of girl.”
I laugh. “Well, I grew up and have big girl money to buy good shampoo.”
“And the book?”
“I’m a librarian, so that didn’t change.”
“That’s cool,” she says, shifting on the bed.
She’s covered in what looks like weeks of filth, her hands covered in a sheen of mud I long to ask about, but I don’t know if I’m ready for the answer as to how she got so dirty.
“No, it’s not. But it’s kind of you to pretend.” I wink at her as she giggles.
The door abruptly opens, and my leg presses down over the gun at the same time Charlotte’s eyes flick towards it.
I give her a subtle nod, and she looks towards Helms as she lifts her gag back into her mouth.
“Shut the fuck up in here!”
So, there are cameras with sound.
Shit.
He doesn’t immediately go for the gun, so it leaves me wondering if sound is all he has in here, but still…
“This isn’t social hour. You,” he points at Charlotte, “leave your fucking gag on.”
His eyes flick to mine as he removes a scrap of dirty towel from his back pocket. “Now, to get yours in place.”
There’s no way to get the gun out from under my leg without turning my entire body to do so.
My cuffs are attached to a chain that runs to the end of the bed, limiting my movement.
Helms has to lean over my body, one knee pressed into the threadbare mattress to get close to my face.
“It’s a shame, you know. In another world, we could’ve been something…”
What the fuck is he talking about?
“You would’ve liked me more, you know? If you met me before him.” He ties the gag around my head, and the tang of some oil burns my lips and nose as I breathe it in. “Maybe you still could…”
He lingers, tucking some hair behind my ear, and I look over toward Charlotte, blinking at her to tell her to close her eyes.
I don’t have the gun, but I’m not going to let her witness whatever he’s about to do.
It’s bad enough that I’ll have to live with it. She doesn’t need to.
Helms’s hand slides down over my breast, squeezing like a man who has no idea what makes a woman tick, no clue how to bring anything other than pain.
“We could have so much fun, you and I. You just have to behave for me until this is over. I could make you mine. Wouldn’t you like that? A senator’s wife. Think of the things I could give you. The places I could take you.”
His hand on my stomach causes it to churn.
I feel movement beneath my leg, and my eyes flick toward Charlotte, who not only has her eyes open but is wiggling her foot beneath my leg slowly, attempting to get the gun free.
So, when Helms attempts to touch me, his hand cupping my sex just as roughly as he had my breast, I arch into him, bending my legs and opening them, as I would for Koen.
“See, you might like it. Doesn’t this feel good?”
I mewl behind my gag, nodding.
I can no longer feel Charlotte’s foot because of the bent position of my leg, but I shift my eyes slightly over, seeing her trying to toe the gun up toward me.
As Helms doubles down his efforts, his fingers pressing into me harder, causing nausea to crawl up my throat, my mouth waters at the intrusion.
But in his preoccupation, Helms isn’t paying close enough attention to my every move, which I use to my advantage as I shift my arms to the right to try to get the gun from Charlotte.
She looks to Helms as I do so, disgust plastering on her features as she lifts the gun on her big toe toward me, her body stretched the best she can do, her own hands purple as her cuffs tug and cut off her circulation.
I get the gun awkwardly, but Helms notices the shift and looks down between us, where his forehead is pressed against mine, his sick fucking breath fanning down over me in the split-second it takes me to get a finger on the trigger.
He moves as quickly as he can, but it’s not fast enough.
The shot rips through the room, bouncing off walls as Charlotte’s screams bleed into those of Helms, who holds his shoulder.
Fuck, I didn’t hit anything vital.
I try to shoot again and miss.
I scream as I pull the trigger over and over, praying to hit anything that’ll drop him to the ground, but he makes it out of the room by the time I’m out of bullets.
“Is he dead?” Charlotte asks, sitting up and shaking blood back into her hands.
“I don’t know, honey.” Tears roll down my cheeks, and I wipe at them.
“Are you alright?” I ask.
She nods, fright in her eyes, her body shaking.
“You did so well. I had no way to get that gun by myself, and he kept up… he would’ve found it.”
“There was a lot of blood. You had to have hit something.”
“I hope so.”
“How will we get out of here if he’s dead?” Charlotte asks.
“Because I have a stalker who will tear the world apart until he finds me.”
“You have a crazy life for a librarian, you know that?”
I laugh because it’s all I can do. “Yeah, I do.”