Page 26 of Forbidden Pawn

I need to get out of here. I need to know what’s going on. I glance around the room, my mind racing, trying to come up with a plan.

Then, an idea hits me as my eyes land on the ancient door lock. My bra. The wire! Maybe I can use it to pick the lock. It’s not the most promising idea, but it’s all I’ve got.

I move quickly and run over to the dresser where I’m keeping my clothes and grab one of my bras. My fingers tremble as I pull the wire out, the thin metal slipping free from the fabric.

I hurry back to the door and crouch down, sliding the wire into the lock with shaky hands. I take it out again and bend it carefully, trying to shape it just right so it’ll fit inside the lock. It’s harder than I thought it would be, and I have to bend the wire again and again, adjusting it with every failed attempt. The tension builds inside me with each passing second, my heartbeat echoing in my ears. What if Ryker catches me? What if I can’t get the door open?

But I push those thoughts away. I have to get out. I need to know what’s happening.

Finally, after what feels like forever, I hear a soft click, and I almost gasp with relief. The lock gives way, and the door creaks open.

I’m free.

Chapter 19

June

A rush of excitement washes over me, but I know I can’t celebrate yet. I stand slowly, peeking out into the hallway. It’s empty, quiet.

I slip out of the bedroom, moving on tiptoes, careful not to make a sound. The house feels eerily silent, like it's holding its breath, and I do the same. There are no voices, no footsteps—nothing to tell me where they are. But I’m sure they’re not in Ryker’s office. I’d hear the creaky old wooden floorboards from up here if they were. I’ve heard it enough times when Ryker was pacing inside that room.

I glide down the hallway, the tension building in my chest with each step. I can’t afford to get caught. Not after how carefully I’ve behaved the past few days. No scenes, no backtalk—just staying in line, hoping he’ll let his guard down.

But today, I need to know what’s going on. I need to know what’s so important that I’m being locked away like some dirty secret.

As I reach the top of the stairs, I pause. Still no sound from the dining area. If they’re not there, then they must be behind the door to the library. That’s the only place left, and the voices I hear—muffled but unmistakable—seem to come from somewhere deeper in the house.

I take another careful step down, stopping to listen again. But just as I reach the bottom steps, movement catches my eye from the left. I freeze, my blood running cold.

There’s a man standing in the entrance area, and he’s staring right at me.

He looks like he might be in his forties, rough around the edges, the rugged, sleazy guy I’d expect Ryker to be doing business with. He looks like he was about to head upstairs, but he’s frozen in place, his eyes wide as he stares back at me, just as shocked as I am.

Shit.

“I… uh,” I begin, unsettled by the way he stares up at me. “I was just—“

“Yeah, me too,” he cuts me off.

Confused, I watch as he turns around on his heels and moves back in the other direction, most likely on his way to tell Ryker about his roaming prisoner.

I bolt back up the stairs, my heart racing in my chest. I run down the corridor, my footsteps louder than I’d like, but I don’t have time to worry about it.

I fling myself inside the bedroom, closing the door as quietly as possible. My hands are shaking, and I press my back against the door, my breathing shallow as I try to calm down.

He’s going to rat me out. I know it. There’s no way a guy like that is going to keep his mouth shut. He’s going to return to that meeting and ask Ryker about that girl he saw running around the house, creating a locker room atmosphere that will cause a round of lewd jokes—and Ryker will implode with anger.

Damn it. I was so close to figuring out what was going on, and now I’m screwed. Ryker’s going to find out. He’ll know I snuck out, and God knows what he’ll do to me for disobeying him.

I am so fucked.

Chapter 20

Ryker

It’s late afternoon, and I’m nursing a bourbon while watching Grace work in the garden. She’s bent over, pulling weeds, the sunlight catching her hair as she moves. I should be focused on what’s happening with our waterfront deal, but watching her, I find myself momentarily distracted. That’s not a good sign.

The meeting earlier was a disaster. A lucrative deal involving a series of waterfront properties is at risk because ofthat stubborn landowner. Mr. Stern is getting cold feet, growing more and more suspicious of our quick acquisitions and inflated offers. He’s at the center of a critical part of my laundering route, and if he pulls out, everything falls apart.

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