Page 5 of Cruel Ice

She squeezed his hand. “Count on me. Trust me.”

He trusted no one. But…“Get…away.” If she was some innocent…if her story was true… “Get away…from here. Leave me…”

“Screw that. I’m coming back.” She spun away and ran for the window. As he watched, she climbed on an old shelf. Shimmied. And slid out of the window.

I have to get out of here, too.

Declan grabbed for the doorknob. He jerked. Twisted. Nothing happened. He lifted up his foot and kicked at the door. Once. Twice. Three times.

He fell on his ass.

Declan hauled himself back up. His breath heaved in and out.Not a normal night.Okay, so she’d been right about that part. But maybe there was something he could use in the smelly basement in order to get the hell out of there. He whirled around and almost fell again. Only he managed to keep himself upright at the last second. When his hand hit the wall as he steadied himself, he found a light switch. He flipped the switch, and more illumination flooded the room.

Now I can see what I’m working with.He staggered to the large cabinet on the right.

Maybe the PI should have looked around with him before she went running.

Unless she was lying. Unless this is some weird-ass mind game.

He opened the cabinet and had to do a double take. Because it sure as hell seemed like he was staring at a torturer’s wet dream. Blades. Hammers. Saws. Needles. A slew of gleaming, silver instruments that looked as if they’d been stolen from a surgeon’s bag of goodies.

Fuck me. Someone has a big night planned.

Too bad that Declan had other plans. He put down the knife and reached for the biggest hammer he saw. Declan curled his fingers around the handle.This should do the trick.

The door creaked open behind him. Declan spun and rushed forward with the hammer raised to attack.

“It’s me!”His PI—why couldn’t he remember her name?—threw up her hands. “Don’t hit me!”

His hand—and the hammer—fell back to his side.

“Where did you get that?” She craned around him. Her eyes bulged. Dark, soulful eyes. So deep. Fucking spellbinding.

He blinked. She’d asked a question. Maybe about the hammer? Where it came from? “In the cabinet full of torture gear.”

More craning of her head and body. She actually grabbed him so that she could look around him better. “Oh, no.” Horrified. “Let’s go.Let’s go now.” She looped his arm around her shoulders and began hauling him toward the now open door and the stairs that waited just beyond that door.

He didn’t really need help. He could get out fine on his own.

But she was helping him up the stairs. And soon they were bursting into what looked like an old kitchen. One that hadn’t been used in ages judging by the grime and dust and the choking scent of rotten food.

They shuffled toward a closed door.

“I climbed in through the kitchen window,” she told him, sounding a little out of breath. Probably because she’d been climbing in so many damn windows or because she’d dragged his wobbly ass upstairs. “Almost missed it. It was partially ajar. People need to shut their windows, am I right?”

No, she was not right. Open windows were leading to his freedom. People needed to leave them open all of the time.

She opened the door and tugged him onto a back porch and into the night. Not a cold night. Too hot, in fact. Maybe thatwas why the windows had been open. He didn’t really care why. He just followed his PI as she staggered toward the trees behind what he now realized was some kind of cabin. He was putting too much of his weight on her, and he should stop.

But he was also having trouble positioning one foot in front of the other so…

“Maybe you should drop the hammer.”

He didn’t. They needed a weapon. He’d left the knife in the basement. He hadn’t meant to do that. He’d planned to bring both weapons.

“What…what do you think they were gonna do with all those scalpels and saws?”

“Cut me into lots of pieces.”Cutmeintolotsofpieces.

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