Page 128 of Spying Under the Mistletoe
For a second, I digest everything she just told me. “Well, now I know why you weren’t returning my calls.” I straighten to stand and survey the room. “I’ve been here before. When I was a kid. My family stayed here a few times.”
Hopefully, Eric and the Evil Asshole haven’t explored this room like Nikolai and I did one day when we were supposed to be sleeping. We’d been positive we would find hidden treasure in the bedroom or at least a map to tell us where to find it in the forest.
I move the chest of drawers to the side, sliding it and the rug it’s sitting on across the floor. It’s not overly difficult—beyond the part where I’m wearing a cast. My forearm aches at the slight exertion. Tabitha helps as best as she can, her body sore from being tied up.
The movement of the rug slowly reveals the hidden trapdoor beneath it. The trapdoor I’m sure even Mom and Nikolai’s parents didn’t know about.
Please still work.
We position the drawers in front of the doorway. The corner of them accidentally hits the door with a soft thud, warning Eric and Evil Asshole we’re up to no good.
Tabitha and I freeze, the air in my lungs too scared to leave. We wait for several rapid heartbeats, listening for any sign we weren’t the only ones who heard it.
Silence greets us beyond the muffled sound of the two men talking nowhere near the door. I have no idea what they’re saying, nor do I care. As long as they’re too preoccupied to check on us, we’re gold.
Releasing the air from my lungs, I give Tabitha a thumbs-up, and what I hope is a reassuring smile.
I point to the trapdoor. She turns to it, and a soft gasp escapes her. She slaps her hand against her mouth.
The sound was barely more than a wisp. Nothing to worry about.
It’s the next part I’m more nervous for.
I grab the metal ring on the trapdoor and cautiously pull it open, willing the hinges not to squeak. They don’t listen. I pause, eyes wide, heart galloping.Shit, shit, shit.
Tabitha glances around the room, yanks the duvet from one bed, and covers the trapdoor with it. “On the count of three, I’ll make a loud distraction,” she whispers, “and you quickly open the trapdoor. Hopefully, between the blanket and me, they won’t hear the hinge.”
I nod. She raises three fingers. “Oh, and try not to take this too personally.”
Before I can puzzle out what she means, she has counted to one.
“You fucking bitch!” she screams as I yank open the trapdoor. “You stole my husband from me!”
I have no clue if her plan worked, but I do know I’ll be forever deaf. Her mouth was right next to my ear.
I carefully lower the door to the floor. Cold air rushes into the room from our new escape route. Tabitha peers in horror at the dirt ground, which is only about two feet below.
I mime that we’ll have to crawl to safety.
She mimes,What if there’s a bear down there?
I think that’s what she’s miming.
I shake my head and mime,There’s not enough room for a bear.
She mouths something else. I have no idea what. I shrug.
Which isn’t the answer she was looking for.
She mimes,There are spiders down there, and shudders.
I’m about to mouth “Fine, then stay here,” when the floorboards outside the bedroom door creak.
That’s the only motivation Tabitha needs. She swings her legs into the opening and drops with a soft thud to the ground. There’s barely enough room for her to lower herself to her belly.
She half crawls, half drags her body forward.
“Do you think they’re wrestling in there?” Evil Asshole says from the other side of the door, sounding a little too turned-on, if you ask me.
