Page 72 of Burn

“I soundedpissedwhen I came in.” Discarding the dresses into the stack on the chair with the other leftovers,I backed up to sit next to her. “I was pissed. I went to that party because the client invited us. Eleanor was tied up with work and I didn’t think I needed a chaperone or protection—it was all the girls on the shoot. There were easily a dozen of us.”

I wasn’t going to get over feeling stupid anytime soon. I’d always been so careful since starting this career. Question and clarify everything. Assume nothing.

“Grace,” Amorette wrapped an arm around me and tucked her chin on my shoulder. “You weren’t dumb.”

The fact she answered the internal doubt first had me sniffly.

“Youweren’t,”she stressed the last word. “You didn’t go off with someone on your own. You had access to your own transportation. You let others know where you were. When you saw something yousaidsomething.”

The vehemence in each statement demanded I listen to her.

“Then you got yourself out of there. Your pride might be tweaked and you have every right to feel mistreated, butyoudid nothing wrong.”

I blew out a breath, letting go of that fear. I pressed my head to hers as she wrapped her other arm around me. With our gazes locked in the mirror, I couldn’t hide my relief. “Doesn’t always feel that way.”

“I know. That’s why I’m here to remind you.” She smiled and I gripped her forearm, holding it as I blinked back the tears. “I just wish you would file the police report. I know you said nothing might come of it. But something could. If nothing else, you document it. That’s how criminals get away with things, the lack of a paper trail.”

She was winding herself up, but damn if I didn’t love that about her too. “I know, you said that when I came in. But I called Eleanor when I was on the subway. She’s more pissed than either of us. Maybe I don’t have a legal case but Eleanor won’t leave them with legs.”

“I do like her,” Amorette said. “I wouldn’t want her angry at me.”

“So you’ve said,” I teased her, then sighed. “Thanks, Am.”

“Always. You good now?”

“Another minute?” Sometimes I forgot just how nice a hug was.

“All the time you need,” she promised.

The memory left me with more tears as I stared at myself in a different mirror without my sister right there. If Am were here right now, she’d be raging. She’d tear a strip off the guys downstairs. She would so have my back every step of the way.

I would have hers too, no matter what those men down there thought.

“No.” I’d done everything right. I’d believed the people my rescuers entrusted me to. I agreed to the conditions. I trusted their word on what was required. Only to find, what? Their word meant nothing? The discussion was over before it began.

Absolutely not. If they wouldn’t listen to me, then I would just make some different decisions. Period. Pushing to my feet, I turned in a full circle, studying the room and what was in it. The study turned into a full search.

I went through the bathroom, the cupboards, and the walk-in closet. The latter had clothes in here that seemed to be around my size, along with matching shoes. The closet was relatively empty based on its size.

In the bathroom drawers, I found razors for shaving, nail clippers, a manicure kit, some clips for hair. Everything looked brand new and fresh out of a package. Other drawers had different types of toiletries, and supplies.

There was a brand new plunger in the corner by the toilet. Heavy wooden handle, not some cheap plastic thing. I took it, along with the metal nail file I’d acquired. I scored large in the closet corner—ironing boardandiron. I took the iron with me, it could work as a makeshift hammer.

The bedroom itself had fewer useful items than the bathroom. That was fine. With the door locked, I went to the windows. A wall of windows looked out over the landscape. The wide open field that dipped over the rise. What I couldn’t tell was whether that was where this part of the mountain ended or if there was more land.

The wide wall had six total windows, allowing for a mostly panoramic view. They could be opened from the bottom and there were some standard blocks in the window path to keep them from going up too high.

Sensors were in place along the edge of each window where it connected to the base. Wired to an alarm. That made sense. Second floor windows may not be as easy as first floor windows, but you could still climb up here.

Opening them could set off an alarm.

I backed up to look at the top of the windows—they also opened. But it wasn’t a raise or lower. It was a tilt to let fresh air in. Those were usually harder to get in and out of, not a lot of room.

Sucking up the irritation, I dragged the armchair over to the corner on the far side of the windows and with some effort, tugged the night stand over. The dresser would be better, but it wouldn’t budge and my back screamed when I tried it.

The night stand was a little taller. If it didn’t work, I’d go for the ironing board. Climbing up, I scanned the edge of the window, everywhere I could see. Nothing looked obvious, so I used the plunger handle to push the lever to release the window and it took a couple of hard tries and then it let out a hiss of air as the lock gave.

I had to go grab a couple of hangers from the closet, but soon I was back and used two interlocked to hook into the open lip and then tug the window inward. The cooler air rushing in tasted sweet and clean. It was a rush as the accomplishment washed through me.

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