Page 116 of Wicked Duty
I remain motionless in my spot on the floor, a location I selected for the optimal hallway view. Hope sparks when I don’t see or hear any other guards in the immediate vicinity.
I wait for the door to shut and the lock to click before leaping to my feet. My blood pressure climbs as I race over to the boxes and carry them to the curtains. Once I finish, I study my handiwork. Not perfect by any stretch, but it will have to do.
Scurrying back across the room, I position myself behind the door. Several minutes pass, each one bringing a fresh swarm of doubts.
I must be out of my mind. There’s no way this will work. As Marco’s threat of playing with Heather and forcing me to watch resurfaces, fresh fear worms through my gut. I’m close to abandoning our scheme completely when Heather coughs in the hallway. Our signal.
Torn, I continue to waffle for so long that the choice is stolen from me.
When the doorknob rattles, I suck air into my collapsed lungs. My fingers curl around fabric.
The door flies open, and Heather stumbles into the room.
This is it.
Then the door starts to close again.
No!Our plan hinges on enticing the guard far enough inside.
For an instant, Heather’s panicked eyes meet mine. I’m sure we’re cooked when she shocks me by improvising. “Lucy, where are…why are you hiding behind the curtains?”
With a curse, the guard shoves into the room. I barely prevent the door from whacking me in the shoulder. “I swear, if you’re fucking around, you’re gonna be sorry. Get out of there.”
He directs his ire at the curtain, where I balanced the boxes on top of each other to displace the fabric from the wall. My shoes peep out from the bottom.
As the guard lunges forward, Heather whimpers loudly, providing cover for my movement.
It’s now or never.
In a surge of motion, I fling myself at him and wrap the curtain tieback around his throat, taking up the slack and twisting as tightly as possible. As hoped, the guard reflexively reaches for the cord with both hands. What we’re unprepared for is him stumbling backward and pinning me to the wall.
While I had the element of surprise, he’s a lot bulkier. Keeping the cord taut requires every ounce of my strength and attention, especially with him bucking against me like a wild boar.
I don’t know how much longer I can hold on, and it’s only a matter of moments before he remembers to reach for his gun. If Heather doesn’t help?—
He jerks to the right and almost goes down. Heather’s foot lashes out once more, striking him in the same knee as before.
Relief swells, and my hands relax as I start to move again. Big mistake. The guard whips his head back, bashing his skull into the side of my face. Pain starbursts in my cheekbone. My grip slackens even more, granting him enough room to dig his fingers beneath the cord. He yanks and lurches forward, dragging me with him and knocking me off balance.
His beefy arm wraps around my neck. Even though I know it’s futile, I struggle.
Despair floods through me. That’s it. We screwed up our best chance.
Crack.The guard’s body jolts. After a second crack, he crumples.
Heather clutches him, staggering beneath his weight. “A little help here,” she wheezes.
I grab beneath his arms and together, we lower him to the floor. Blood trickles onto the wood from the gash in his skull.
Heather peers at him, the gun she snagged still gripped in her right hand. “Is he dead?”
A dark part of me hopes so. Though from the pallor of Heather’s face, I doubt she agrees, so I guess it’s a blessing of sorts that his chest continues moving. “No. You just knocked him out.”
Her lips quiver. “Okay.”
I study her. “How did you get his gun? Your zip ties…”
“While I was in the bathroom, I took a chance and used this technique I once saw on YouTube to break them. Then I held my hands together like they were still intact and hoped he wouldn’t notice.”
