16. Chapter 16 #2
“At dinner, one of Father’s lieutenants reported that someone had traced a company tied to a chartered jet. An airport handler at Comalapa stopped answering his phone, and foreign security men have been asking about private flights arriving from the United States.”
“Nik.”
“That’s what Father thought too. He sent more men to watch the airport and the roads leading northeast.”
Satisfaction cut through the pain. Nik had found the trail.
“How much does that help?” she asked.
“Enough to put my people in the country and make Ciro nervous. Not enough to lead them to this compound.”
Disappointment flickered across her face, but she pushed it down quickly.
“I have something that might help us.”
She set the bottle aside and reached into the bodice of her dress.
My eyes followed. I was injured, not blind.
Color climbed into her cheeks as she drew out a small metal key.
The sight of it snapped every thought into focus.
“What does it open?”
“Your wrist and ankle restraints.”
“Mouse. Unlock me.”
Her fingers closed around the key. “This isn’t the escape—not tonight. I only need to know whether you can walk, and then everything has to go back exactly as it was.”
Her hand had begun to tremble.
“If anyone finds one cuff open or realizes you’ve been helped, Father will know someone inside the compound is working against him. If he discovers it was me, I won’t survive what he does next.”
“I won’t expose you.”
“I need you to promise you’ll let me lock you back to the chair.”
“You have my word.”
She stayed between my knees for another few seconds, staring at me as if trying to decide whether my word was worth betting her life on.
Then her gaze flicked toward the hidden door.
I knew exactly what she was thinking. Once those cuffs opened, nothing could stop me from overpowering her or disappearing into the passage, leaving her behind to suffer her father’s wrath.
“Mouse.”
She looked back at me.
“If you change your mind after I free you, I can’t stop you.”
“I won’t change my mind.”
She searched my face one last time, then drew in a slow breath and stepped around the chair. Her skirt brushed my knee before she disappeared behind me.
For a moment, nothing happened.
Then her fingertips touched the back of my hand.
Careful. Almost tentative.
She lifted my wrist enough to find the lock by feel, her other hand steadying the cuff against the chair. The key scraped against the metal.
Then she stopped.
Her breath touched the back of my arm.
On the second try, the key slid into the slot.
There was a tiny turn, then a click.
The cuff released around my left wrist.
Neither of us moved.
One hand was free.
I could’ve caught her before she made it two steps toward the wall. Instead, I left my hand exactly where she’d placed it.
After another quiet breath, her fingers found my other wrist.
This time she was steadier. Her hand brushed mine as she angled the key into the second lock.
Click.
The pressure around my right wrist vanished.
“Done,” she whispered.
I brought my arms forward slowly. Pain ripped through both shoulders hard enough to pull a grunt from me, but the pain barely registered. For the first time since Jersey, my hands were mine again.
Isabella came around the chair immediately, watching me warily.
I lowered both palms to my thighs and kept them there, where she could see them.
I didn’t reach for her. She’d placed herself and the key within my reach because I’d given her my word. I wasn’t going to make her regret trusting me.
I caught the edge of the towel covering my lap. “Turn around for me, Mouse.”
“Oh. Right. Your pants.”
“And the cock you looked at twice.”
She looked down, then quickly away, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, clearly wishing she could disappear into the floor. “Must we discuss exactly how many times I looked?”
“It was what it was,” I chuckled.
Her eyes snapped back to mine. “You were supposed to be unconscious.”
“We’ve already established that I wasn’t.”
She turned quickly. “Just tell me when it’s safe to look.”
I moved the towel aside, tucked myself back into my pants, and managed the zipper and button with fingers that still didn’t want to cooperate.
“You’re safe to turn back around.”
She glanced over her shoulder before facing me again.
“Better?” I asked.
“Considerably.”
“Good. I’d hate to distract you from the remaining locks.”
She laughed despite her embarrassment.
“Two more,” she said as she crouched between my boots.
The first ankle cuff opened easily. She removed it and shifted to my left side.
Her palm landed high on my thigh as she steadied herself over the final lock.
The bruised muscle tightened beneath her touch.
She looked up. “Did I hurt you?”
“No.”
Her gaze followed mine to where her hand rested.
“That’s distracting.”
She snatched it away. “I’m sorry. After what she did, I shouldn’t have—”
“Don’t put your touch in the same sentence as hers.”
She froze.
“That wasn’t a complaint,” I added.
Tentatively, she placed her palm on my knee, crouched down, and guided the key into the lock.
The mechanism released with a soft click, and the cuff fell away.
“Good girl.”
Her breath hitched.
A deep flush warmed her cheeks, and her lashes lowered for a heartbeat before she looked up at me.
She’d just freed a man who could break her neck and disappear before anyone knew what happened. She understood exactly what I was capable of, and she’d opened the locks anyway.
She’d trusted me with her life.
I held her gaze.
In New York, Isabeast’s eyes had shifted like black mercury whenever I got too close to the truth. I’d seen the warning and ignored it.
Mouse’s didn’t.
The fear was there. So was the vulnerability. She was scared of me, attracted to me, and still believed I wouldn’t hurt her.
No performance.
No calculated tears.
Just the truth staring straight back at me.
Eyes never lie, and hers told me she’d just bet her life on my word.
Maybe it was courage. Maybe desperation.
Maybe fate had finally decided to put someone worth protecting in my path.
Whatever had brought a beautiful woman to her knees between mine with my freedom in her hand, I knew one thing with absolute certainty: I would die before I let her regret choosing me.
I’d burn this fucking compound to the ground rather than let Ciro punish her for trusting me.
Isabella rose from between my knees, watching me closely.
For a few moments, I stayed where I was, enjoying breathing without restriction.
I flexed my hands, rolled my shoulders, then stretched one leg carefully in front of me, followed by the other. Everything hurt, but everything still worked.
I planted both feet on the concrete.
“All right, Mouse. Let’s find out how much of me still works,” I said, forcing myself to stand. “Move back a little.”
Her brow drew together. “Why?”
“If my left leg gives out, I’d rather not flatten you.”
“Oh.”
She retreated toward the worktable, although not nearly as far as I’d expected.
I pushed myself upright.
Pain tore across my ribs, and the room tilted the moment I stood.
My left knee buckled.
“Lachlan.”
Isabella rushed forward before I could stop her. One arm slid around my waist while her other hand caught my upper arm. I grabbed the chair to keep us both standing.
The absurdity of it almost made me laugh.
She barely came to my shoulder and probably weighed half what I did, but there she was, bracing herself as though sheer determination could keep an injured six-foot-four Irishman off the floor.
“I’ve got you,” she said. “Can you stay standing?”
“Give the room a second to stop moving.”
“The room isn’t moving.”
I looked down at her.
“Then apparently I am.”
That earned me a smile.
She held on until the dizziness eased. Even after I steadied, she stayed tucked against my side.
I liked the warmth of her tucked against me, the way she held on as though her little body had any chance in hell of keeping me upright if I went down. Mostly, I liked that she was touching me because she wanted to help, and I didn’t want her to stop nearly as much as I should have.
When I shifted my weight onto the injured leg, her attention dropped to my knee immediately.
“Careful.”
“You’re getting bossy again.”
“Someone has to be sensible.”
“I thought your five minutes were over.”
“I’ve extended them due to extenuating circumstances.”
A laugh escaped me before my ribs reminded me why that was a bad idea.
“Getting comfortable ordering me around, are you?”
“Only when you clearly need supervision.”
There she was. A little more attitude appeared every time she decided I wasn’t going to bite.
I took a careful step.
Then another.
My left thigh protested, but it held. I crossed to the worktable, turned, and came back without ending up on my ass.
“I can walk.”
“Can you run?”
“Not unless Ciro plans to give me a considerable head start.”
Her smile disappeared.
“I’ll be faster by the time we actually move,” I added. “Walking is enough for tonight.”
That seemed to reassure her.
I started toward the worktable again, then noticed the drain in the floor.
Now that I was standing and everything inside me had apparently remembered how to function, I needed to piss. Badly.
At least Ciro had been considerate enough to put a drain in his dungeon.
“Mouse.”
“What?”
“I need another favor.”
Her expression immediately turned serious. “What do you need? Are you dizzy again?”
“I need you to turn around.”
She stared at me.
I glanced toward the drain. “I need to take a piss.”
Her eyes widened.
“Oh.”
“Aye.”
She spun around so quickly that her skirt twisted around her legs.
“I’m not looking.”
“I appreciate your commitment to my privacy after everything you’ve already seen.”
“That was different.”
“Was it?”
“Yes.”
I smiled as I opened my pants. “Keep telling yourself that.”
“I intend to.”
Silence lasted all of three seconds before she apparently decided discussing our escape was less embarrassing than listening to me piss.