Page 128 of Ink's Devil

Giving up, I stare out across the grounds and out toward the wall of the compound. If I could get out, I could cover the distance in seconds.

Something glints in the sun. I lean closer to the window to take a look, tilting my head.Is that a remote-controlled plane?Are Phil’s guards playing with a toy?

I tilt my head to one side as it starts to draw closer. What the hell…? Is it a… It’s a drone. Is Phil using tech to keep an eye on me?

I jump back from the window fast. Christ, they must think I’m resourceful if they think they need to guard me from the sky. Or, I realise as I pull myself out of sight and stand with my back to the wall, they’re creeps who hope to watch me getting undressed.

Perhaps it’s not being controlled by Phil’s men.Could it be the cops? The FBI?Sounds like something they might do. And Phil’s a man they’d likely investigate. Quickly glancing around the room, I wonder if there’s a convenient paper and pen. If it’s the cops, I could write a message that I’m a prisoner, and hope they could see it. If it’s Phil, well, he already knows.

But of course, there’s nothing I can use to write on or with.

Wondering if I could mime being held against my will and whether I could get my point across, I return to the window, but the drone, or whatever it was, has gone.

Feeling I’ve lost the only chance I might have had, I turn my back.

Boom!

Christ? What the hell was that? Automatically I’ve dropped to the floor, hunched over and put my hands protectively over my head.Was that an explosion?Before I can answer my mental question, fire alarms are going off all over the house. Footsteps run past my door but don’t stop.

“Hey!” I run to the door and try and turn the knob. It’s locked, of course.

Is it my imagination, or do I already smell smoke?

Hell, have they left me here to burn to death?

Now there are gunshots and screams.Oh my God. What’s going on?

I rattle the door handle and pull on it, but it doesn’t budge. Regretting lock-picking is not one of my skills, I wonder if I can kick it down, at least I’ve got strength in my legs, but it opens inward, and that wood looks too thick. And maybe, if the house is filling with smoke, and there’s a gun battle going on, I’m safer this side. What if I get out and am shot?

My hand is still on the handle when I feel it moving. Someone’s trying it from the other side.

Friend or foe?In this house there’s little hope of it being the former.

I slowly back away, wishing there was somewhere to hide. In the bathroom, perhaps? No, it’s too small, no room to manoeuvre. If it’s George coming in, he’s going to feel my knee in his balls again.

“Stand back!” a voice demands. It's a voice I recognise.

Shit. I’m hallucinating now. I thought I heard Ink.

Have I fallen asleep? Is this some nightmare I’m living?

The door flies open, bouncing back against the wall and almost closing again before revealing the man, not of my nightmares, but of my dreams. Convincing me my subconscious has conjured him up.

“Ink?”

“Babe. Stop staring and come with me. Phil might be on his way back with reinforcements.”

He’s got a phone in one hand and proceeds to talk both to me and the person at the end of the line.

“Yeah, Prez, I got her. Getting out now. I don’t know if one of his men managed to get a message off. If they did, I don’t know what he cares most about, his compound or drugs… Yeah, man. I hear you.”

“For fuck’s sake, Beth. Do I have to put you over my shoulder and carry you out? We haven’t got much time.”

The smoke wafting through the door confirms what he’s saying.

I can’t make my feet move. He grabs my hand.

“Move, Beth,” he instructs using his dominant tone. At last my body unfreezes.

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