Page 39 of Wild Card

“Just go,” I gasp. “And stop pretending you give a shit about my well-being. So much for it being safe here.”

“I’m sorry, tesoro mio.”

I’m not sure what he’s saying, but his voice is thick with shame. He sweeps my hair away from my face.

“I won’t leave you here long, I promise.”

He lingers for a moment, but then moves toward the door. He stops and stares at me, but I just clutch my stomach, refusing to meet his gaze. He fumbles around with something. There’s a loud creak, and then the popping of wood. When the door shuts, finally, I look up and see that he’s opened up the skylight. I struggle to my feet and walk over to it. I can’t see anything other than the gray sky. It’s raining, but I stand under it anyway, watching the water run over the glass and trickle through the open screen.

It’s barely a concession. Not like I can call for help, but I’m glad for the fresh air. I don’t think I could have survived ten more minutes in this space without it. I limp over to the door and test the knob. It’s locked, of course, but I had to try.

What next? I don’t want to just wait. I can’t trust anyone here.

Seeing Gio beat down his despicable uncle was satisfying, but he shouldn’t have brought me into this hell hole in the first place. A nagging part of my brain argues that Lorenzo would’ve easily broken into Gio’s apartment if I were alone inside and possibly hurt me worse.

And an even less welcome part asks me if more than anything, I’m disappointed that Gio didn’t stop his uncle from hurting me again. He reacted quickly and kept it from being even worse, but a secret, foolish part of my brain believed that nothing bad could happen when he was with me.

My face burns with the embarrassment of that revelation.

You’ve got to help yourself, Catriona. Like you always do.

I walk over to another boarded-up window. This one isn’t a sky light, just a standard one. I examine the wood. It’s incredibly sturdy—I’m honestly a little astonished that Gio was able to pull the wood from the skylight barehanded. Still, if this place was built to keep people out rather than keep them in, I may be able to escape now. I tug at the boards, looking for weak spots or loose nails. I don’t need them to come all the way off, just to lift enough for me to squeeze through. If I had some kind of lever, I might be able to pry at least one end up enough to get the nails out, and then use one of the discarded pieces of wood to finish the job.

There’s not much here. I wander into the bathroom and open up the cabinet under the sink. It’s empty, except for some lumpy contact paper. Where’s a crowbar when you need one? I pull up the contact paper just in case there’s something useful underneath. It seems to be only stained wood, but my fingers graze something that feels like metal. The light in here is terrible—yellow and dim. I can’t see, but I grope around the cabinet until I find the end of the object and lift it up.

It’s a small, flat wrench.

Well then.

I rush back to the boards as fast as my injuries allow and pry the nails out one by one. It takes forever, but eventually I’m able to follow through with my plan and pry one board up enough to unlock the window and open it.

I’m still pretty weak. The window isn’t a straight shot down, but rather opens up to a small balcony.

That attaches to Gio’s bedroom.

I’d noticed it yesterday when he’d been out and had unlocked the slider in case I got stuck up here again. It’d been a big risk, and it was a long shot that I’d be able to escape this room. But my luck can’t be all bad. It’s smart to leave myself options.

Callan would be proud.

I open up the window and pop out the screen. Slipping my legs carefully through, I sit on the ledge. The loose board rests on my back and it’s strangely comforting. It’s about a ten-foot drop to Gio’s balcony. I’m five feet and seven and a half inches tall, exactly, though I always tell people I’m five nine. If I hang from the sill rather than jumping straight down, it’ll be easier on my legs. My brother Finn could probably calculate the physics of exactly how many pounds per square inch of impact I’d be saving myself, but math was never my strong point. Taking a deep breath, I twist and drop so I’m hanging from the outer sill.

Years of yoga and Pilates battle with my injuries and lack of proper food, and the sill is wet and my grip is tenuous at best, but adrenaline buoys me and I manage to hang on long enough to make sure I’ll land safely on the balcony below. I know it’s silly, but I close my eyes as I let go. Somehow, I still manage to land in a cat-like crouch. Pain radiates up my foot, through my leg, but it’s more of an angry warning than anything else.

I take a brief moment to look out at the world. The building is old with a brick façade. The balcony faces a busy street, and if it weren’t raining, I’m sure someone would’ve spotted me by now, but everyone has their umbrellas up, faces down, marching toward their next destination. I could scream, get someone’s attention, but it seems smarter to disappear. If that man, Freddie, makes someone big and powerful like Gio nervous, I’d be no match for him in my current state. I’ll run and hopefully get to my brothers before anyone notices I’m gone.

Opening the slider, I look longingly at Gio’s bed. I’m exhausted, and I’d love nothing more than to curl up under the blankets and sleep, but there’s no time for that. His warm, masculine scent lingers on the linens, but the softness I’d felt toward him evaporated when he carried me up to that attic prison.

I don’t have shoes on, and nothing Gio has will fit me, but I rifle through his drawers and find a pair of thick wool socks. I leave the bedroom and open his front closet. His coats are all enormous. Will it draw more attention to me if I have one of these on?

I slide into a leather jacket. The lining is old and worn, but the leather is good quality, soft. It’s ridiculous on me, hanging past my knees. If I had a belt, I could make it into some kind of dress. I bunch up the sleeves. It feels like I’m wearing an entire cow, but it’ll keep me warm for my journey. I take a last look around, and then slip out of the apartment and down the creaky stairs, moving as quietly as possible. I’m at the second landing when I hear voices: a man and a woman arguing. Fear sets my heart pounding again, and I press to the wall, wondering if I should go back up. I decide to retreat when Lorenzo’s voice rings through the stairwell.

“You! How the hell did you get out?”

I flee up the stairs to Gio’s. If I can get in, and lock the door, I’ll be okay. I’m at the door when he overtakes me, pinning me against it.

Once again, I come up short.

“I told my idiot nephew we should just hand you over to Freddie, but he’s got a crush. Doesn’t want you to get hurt.” He laughs in my face. “But I think I’m going to do just that. My apologies again, Miss Carney, but you’re more trouble than you’re worth.”

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