Page 17 of The Sin

“I’ve got that covered,” Roman said. “But you should pack what you’ll need. And wear comfortable shoes. It’s a three hour hike.”

“We’re walking?” After being cooped up in this cabin, I wasn’t opposed to a hike. “I assumed I’d be sneaking out in the lockbox on your truck.”

“The Guard has beefed up security at the gate,” he said. “They’re searching all vehicles in and out.”

“I thought wardens were a law unto themselves.”

A hint of humor touched his mouth. “We are, but in this instance, the High Wardens are in agreement with Capra’s council. Your escapade has ruffled everyone’s feathers.”

8

The only small bag I possessed was the overnight bag I’d brought with me on graduation night. I now filled it with pretty much the same items I had then—minus the silky negligee my mom had insisted on. That was stashed in the bottom of the beautifully decorated plywood chest that sat in the corner of my room. The moving day chest had passed down from my grandmother to my mother to me, and was meant for my daughter one day. Given the direction my life, and my marriage, was going, neither the chest nor that slinky piece of silk would ever be put to good use.

I dressed in jeans, a thin t-shirt with a hoodie pulled over, and running shoes.

Roman appeared, resting a hip against the doorframe. “Bring a coat and scarf.”

I’d considered my coat and dismissed it, since I needed to travel light. But Roman was right. Winter was creeping up on us. The mornings were frosty and the nights were bitter, and I had no idea what I was heading into.

I stripped off the hoodie and shoved it into my bag, and pulled on my coat. I selected a dark brown cashmere scarf from the wardrobe and hooked it loosely around my neck.

“Ready?” Roman asked.

I shrugged and swiped my bag off the bed. I was about as ready as I’d ever be. A little scared, a lot nervous, but underlying all that was a thrill. Not excitement. Not exactly. This was more like a buzz of wary anticipation in the pit of my stomach. I was about to get all the answers I’d been searching for, but I was under no illusion that any of them would be good.

Roman stood aside as I swept passed him out the room. “There’s still time to change your mind.”

I sent him a dry look over my shoulder.

He caught up to me and tugged the bag from my hands. “We’ll drive to the access point, which means we have to get you through the barrier. I’d rather the guard doesn’t know you’re leaving Parklands.”

“So you’re shoving me into the lockbox after all,” I filled in.

“That won’t be necessary.”

As I stepped outside the cabin, the frigid night air stung my cheeks and burned my lungs. I didn’t care. I breathed deep, feeling almost lightheaded by an overwhelming sense of freedom. This wasn’t the first time I’d been outside since my imposed confinement. If I hadn’t spent some hours on the deck each day, I would have gone certifiably insane.

But tonight was different.

I wasn’t just stepping outside the cabin.

I waswalkingout the cabin.

Roman’s truck was a double cab and he instructed me to lie down on the floor in the back. Once I was squashed into the narrow foot well between the bench and the front seats, he threw his coat over me. I was blind and cramped, and it was a jolty ride once we got moving, but it wasn’t the lockbox. I could breathe. The air wasn’t getting thinner and thinner until my lungs strained for every scrap of oxygen.

We slowed down. Approaching the Parklands barrier, I presumed. The guard on duty usually just waved us through, but still, I held my breath. Technically, we hadn’t done anything wrong. Yet. But this would look suspicious as all hells…and put an end to our excursion to The Smoke.

The truck sped up again without coming to a complete halt.

“We’re through,” Roman said, and a minute later, he pulled over to the curb so I could climb into the passenger seat. “Pull up the collar of your coat and wrap the scarf over your hair. The less recognizable you are, the better.”

Sothat’swhat the coat and scarf were for. I did as he suggested, creating a hood with the scarf so it covered my hair and draped my shoulders. “I feel like a criminal on the run.”

“Or an undercover spy.”

A chill prickled my spine. “What do you mean?”

He went on to explain what an undercover spy was as we continued driving and I let him. We had fiction books and every once in a while, there were film screenings in the town hall. There was this one movie, a comedy, about a man who’d disguised himself as a frumpy housekeeper to spend time with his children. It was ridiculous, and hilarious. Jessie and I had laughed until tears streamed down our cheeks. He wasn’t a spy, not in the true sense, but he’d gone undercover.

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