Page 156 of Triple Pucked
Tonight.
I stare at her in silence.
Unnerved, Blythe takes a step backward. “I said, sleep, psycho bitch.”
It didn’t take long for her to drop her mask. Did I only receive ten minutes of love bombing?
Blythe turns on her heel and marches further into the house, slamming shut the door.
Heine breathes out.
“Is the back door locked?” I ask, quietly.
Heine nods. “If you’re thinking about anything silly like an escape attempt, which I wouldn’t because my Mistress will break your legs, there is no point. All the doors are locked, and Mistress keeps the keys on her. This cottage is a couple of hundred years old or some such shit. They built things to last back then. It’s why doors can’t be kicked down. I did try one night, when I was going half mad, and I just wound up busting my ankle. And Mistress busted my ass for it the next morning.”
“Undo my hands.”
Heine shakes his head.
“Do it.”
Heine crawls out of his bed, pushing himself to stand. “You’ll kill me.”
“Untie me, and I promise to get you away from Blythe.”
Heine squints at me. “What will happen to me after that?”
“Probably jail.”
Heine turns away his head, closing his eyes for a moment and taking a shuddery breath. “I have very good lawyers.”
I hold up my hands, and Heine works at the ropes with trembling fingers.
When the ropes fall like a dead snake at my feet between us, for a long moment we stare at each other.
Heine braces like he expects me to break my promise and attack him anyway.
Tempting.
Instead, I stuff my hands in my pocket, hoping that Blythe didn’t think to steal my PA shit.
A PA should be prepared. I always carry a mini pen and notebook, lighter, and heavy duty paperclips in my pocket.
Except, I don’t only carry them as stationary.
My heart sinks.
They’re gone.
“Are you looking for this?” Heine pulls out my stuff from his own pockets and drops them onto the table.
I glare at him on principle for touching a PA’s kit.
My heart leaps in excitement, however, and I grab up two paperclips.
My wrists are still aching. They’ve been bruised by the rope. It’s hard to breathe against the pain on each step in my chest, and I am staggering from the weakness in my muscles.
Yet I make it to the back door and drop to crouch in front of it.
