Page 106 of Mensa's Match

Block turned his head to the side, and Mensa noticed a muscle twitch along his jawline. “You might be right, but we can’t think like that. We have to stick to the plan, meet the others, and hit their clubhouse.”

Mensa trudged to his Harley with a heavy sense of dread.

Chapter 27

Empty

Whitney

I woke up withdry mouth. It took a moment before I realized it stemmed from a wad of fabric shoved between my lips. I opened my eyes. The room was dimly lit, and it appeared that I was alone. My wrists were bound to a chair with duct tape. With care, because my neck hurt like hell from my awkward position, I turned my head to see if any one was behind me.

Alone.

Thank God.

I took a closer look at the chair. It was a white, plastic outdoor chair. Whoever bound me made sure my forearms were flat to the armrests. Little did they realize that could work in my favor. I began to move my forearms back and forth to cut through the duct tape. It would take time. With any luck, there would be enough time for me to break free.

I noticed a windowsill a few feet away. When I went to move my legs, I found they’d been taped to the chair also. Trying to cut the tape on my legs and my arms would take more coordination. I started working my legs to break them free also, but free hands would do me the most good.

The blinds weren’t completely drawn. The sun shifted enough to brighten the room, and I couldn’t believe my eyes. Rod or his buddy was dumb enough to leave my purse on the floor.

With effort, I jerked my torso to scoot the chair forward. I expected to hear the chair scraping the floor, but no sound came. That was when I noticed the room was carpeted.

Could they be so stupid as to leave me in this room with my purse?Surely they searched it.

I shook my head. This was no time for assumptions. If there was a chance my phone or my gun was in that bag, I had to get to it. Who knew what Rod wanted to do to me now that he had me here?

My mind flooded with thoughts of all the things I wanted to do but hadn’t had a chance: buying a house, marriage, starting a family, proving to Aunt Nadia I could keep her legacy going.

Mentally I shook off the thoughts, then I took another quick glance around the room because putting cameras in here wouldn’t be that difficult. Another thought hit me: even if there were cameras, I had limited time and I had to make the most of it.

I scooted across the room as fast as I could – though with my arms and legs bound, it wasn’t very fast at all. During my slow trek across the room, I debated the choice I’d have to make. I wouldn’t be able to bend over and grab my purse – at least not until I freed an arm. If I really wanted to grab my bag, I’d have to tip myself over. There was no way I’d get upright again. That was a bridge I’d have to cross when I got there.

With all those thoughts running through my head, I propelled myself forward too hard. All my weight rested on the two front legs of the chair. Somehow I stopped the momentum before I fell on my face. Once I had the chair on four legs again, I took some deep breaths and kept working on the tape at my arms. To my surprise, I heard something tear on my right side. I examined my right arm, but it didn’t appear any different than before other than my skin being red.

Still, that sound encouraged me to redouble my efforts to tear the duct tape.

After another seven scoots and what felt like at least twenty minutes, I was finally within a foot of my bag.

I clenched a fist and pulled up with my right arm. The tearing sound was music to my ears, but my arm was still stuck. On my third try, the tape finally tore loose. I pulled the gag out of my mouth and took a huge gulp of fresh air.

I tamped down my urge to shout with joy, then awkwardly bent forward and grabbed my purse.

Whatever minimal relief I felt was short-lived.

My purse was empty.

I blew out a quiet sigh and set to work freeing my left arm and both legs.

Once I broke loose, I went to the window.

Lifting one of the blind slats, I saw an empty field with nine motorcycles. The slat I’d lifted ran along the top edge of the window rail, and I noticed there was a sash lock. Carefully, I shifted the lock and lifted up to open the window. It didn’t budge.

The room had three doors. Light coming through the bottom of one of the doors told me that led out to the rest of the building. Another door was close by with no light emanating from it. I opened it and found it was an empty closet.

I hustled across the room to the last door, and found a small bathroom. I turned on the light and searched the cabinet under the sink. There was a bottle of spray cleaner alongside an aerosol can of pest spray.

Giving Rod a face-full of pest spray was tempting, but I knew better. That could backfire and would only serve as a distraction.

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