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I told Miles I’d come with him willingly, and the first chance I got, I tried to make a run for it.
They’ll find me soon, and God only knows what they’ll do to me.
I sit in the crouched position, my stomach empty, my hair a mess, my nightie caked with dried vomit.
And I accept my fate.
3
FALCON
Still walking in the shadows, Leif and I case the mansion. We pace all the way around, looking at each point of entry as Leif assesses it.
We don’t encounter any hounds, but Leif throws a piece of the tainted beef jerky every couple of steps to ward off any who might show up.
“I think this one,” Leif says when we find a door.
“Why this one?”
“It appears to be a door to the servants’ entrance. It’s far less grand than the main entrance, and off to the side. The McAllisters wouldn’t want any of their distinguished guests to enter through here. We’ll be less likely to run into anyone we can’t buy off.”
“Christ,” I say under my breath.
“Hey,” he says. “None of that shit. We’re going to get through this.” He pats me on the shoulder. “We’re going to get your lady back, man. The Phoenix always rises.”
I hope to God he’s right.
I sure as hell don’t want to go back to the slammer, but I’ll do it if it means saving Savannah.
Leif messes with his lockpick, and within a few seconds, the door is open.
I’m expecting a couple Dobermans to lunge out and go for our throats, but they don’t, thank God.
“All right,” Leif says. “No talking at this point. Not even a whisper.”
“How do we communicate then?”
“With our hands.”
Yeah, right. That’s not going to work, but I don’t want to be the one to tell Leif.
We walk in and are greeted with the hallway and two staircases, one going down and one going up. The servants’ quarters are clearly not as elegant as the main part of the mansion. The entryway is small and dimly lit. The floor beneath our feet is weathered and scuffed linoleum and the walls are plain and painted in muted, peeling colors. It’s an area of functionality rather than beauty, a stark reminder of the social hierarchy within the mansion.
I raise my eyebrows at Leif. This place obviously has a first floor, but we can’t access it from here.
“If they’ve got her here,” Leif says. “She’s either in the basement or on the second floor. She’s definitely not on the first floor.”
“Thought you said no talking,” I say.
“I did. But we need to figure out where to look first.”
“Is she a prisoner?”
“I don’t know. You know more about these people than I do.”
I look at the floor. “Except I don’t, man. I don’t know shit about the Texas Mafia. I didn’t even know there was a Texas Mafia.”
“They came for her,” Leif says. “They came to your house, with guns, for her. So yeah, I’d say she’s a prisoner, but probably not the kind of prisoner they keep in the basement.”
