49. Ransom
49
RANSOM
W ell, this is a crock of shit.
I’m trapped in the barn. Stuck with nothing but the smell of horse and barn animal.
Everett’s gone. I’m left with one security guard.
“Stay put,” he says.
“Or what?”
“Or I’ll break your fucking legs.”
“Yep. That’d do it.”
I pull my legs in, sitting cross-legged.
He scowls at me. Big, bulldog face. Then he leaves me tied up and goes around to the front of the barn. He steps outside, and I hear him talking to someone on the phone.
I look around the stables. Nothing but animals on either side of me. Down on the end of the stable, there’s a second doorway, wide open. I can see the mountains and the setting sun in the distance. I shift, twisting my wrists. I reach as far as I can and brush my fingers over the rope. I feel her curves, mapping out the knot in my mind’s eye. It’s a tight one. I’m not getting out of here anytime soon .
The sound of a horse huffing draws my attention.
Hold on…
I know that grumpy huff .
“Tssst!” I hiss, half whispering. “Chaucer! That you?”
Down the back of the stables, I watch as Chaucer slowly steps into view, craning his neck. His head swivels left to right as he chews the dandelions.
“What the hell’re you doing here?”
He startles at my voice, taking a couple of steps backward. Like a kid with his hand in the cookie jar.
“Hey—no. C’mere. Quick about it.”
He hesitates, suspicious. Then, slowly, he clips through the stable and walks over to me. He seems confused by me being on the ground. He pushes his nose around my hair, and I feel his hot breath as he huffs, nibbling affectionately.
“Hey, buddy. Boy, am I glad to see you.”
I tilt my head against his snout. God bless.
I chance a quick glance toward the front. The guard hasn’t noticed us.
“Listen. Chaucer. I need your help.”
He looks down at me and flicks his ear. He’s listening.
“Beer me.”
His ears perk up. He knows that command. Loves that command. Usually means there’s a carrot in it for him. He jerks his head, grabs the nearest object—a hat sitting on the railing—and tosses it at me.
Nope. That’s not going to help. “ Beer me .”
An exasperated huff. He goes, picks up a rake, and throws it at me.
Still not helpful. Actively trying to kill me now. “Beer me. Something useful.”
Finally, he gets something I can use. A shovel. He drops it beside me .
“That’s more like it,” I sigh. “You beautiful fucking beast.”
I hook the shovel under my boot. I nudge it back, rolling it toward me. It takes a hell of a lot of maneuvering, but I manage to kick it toward my hands. I use the sharp end and start sawing at the rope. It nicks me more than once. I get a jolt of pain and the wet heat of my own blood, but I don’t stop. I can’t stop. Claire needs me. Everett needs me.
Heroes gotta hero .
I tilt my chin down. I grab the handkerchief in my mouth. I bite down on it to muffle my groans as I power through.
After what seems like ten lifetimes, I finally hear a snap. The rope slackens, losing its grip on my wrist. I pull back, free from the fence.
Eureka! The rope is gone, but I’ve still got a pair of handcuffs to contend with. I glance back at the door.
I can see just the outline of the security guard. Still facing away from me. Still talking to someone on his walkie-talkie.
Alright then. Let’s figure this out quick.
I tighten my core and push up to my feet. I nearly stumble into Chaucer getting up, and he clicks back a couple of paces to get out of my way. Hands still stuck behind my back, I find equipment hanging in the back of the stable. Brushes. Saddles. And?—
Farrier nippers. Good enough for horse hooves, then there’s good enough for these cuffs. Getting the thing to snap around the metal is a challenge, and when my frustration mounts, I close my eyes.
Okay. You don’t need to see to do this. You know these tools. Just… feel it .
I go slow. I feel the mouth of the nippers catch on the chain linking the cuffs together. I squeeze the handles hard until I hear it snap.
The nippers clatter to the floor. My hands fall to my sides, cuffs still wrapped around them, but the chain is broken, anyway. I’m free .
And in trouble. The sound caught the attention of the guard. He turns and heads back inside the stable.
Time to act.
I grab the rope hanging against the wall. He’s so startled to see Chaucer just chilling in the stable that it takes him too long to see me .
I knock him down with a swift punch. I get him on the ground and leave him hog-tied.
“Real sorry about this,” I tell him. “It’s not personal.”
He wiggles in place, his curses muffled by the rag in his mouth. I grab another coil of rope and wrap it up, looping it to my belt.
Before I leave, I ask him, “Hey, you don’t got headphones on you, do you?”