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Moving at a fast clip, I reenter the room, beelining for the bedroom.
And that’s when I notice the phone is askew in the cradle.
My mind struggles to fight through the panic and acknowledge why that’s bad. My conversation with my superior. Was she listening? What was said?
I pinch the bridge of my nose and start to pace, battling the urge to vomit. My superior wants to use her as a witness. Did she worry I’d allow that to happen? No, she would have trusted me. Trusted every word I said during the conversation she overheard. She would have known I mean to keep her safe, so…
Evidence.
Hailey knows I need something on her father. Or I could lose the case.
She also knows she has two hours before her father gets home.
She’s gone back to the house. And what she doesn’t know is the evacuation is optional—and her father would have realized that by now, too. He could return home at any time.
“No.”
With unimaginable images chilling my blood, I spin on a heel and sprint out of the room. Please God let me get there in time. Life just became worth living because of her. If I lose her now, I’ll lose myself.
Hailey
There is no one home when the cab lets me out at the end of my father’s driveway. His car isn’t there and twilight has crept in, but no lights are on in the house. Okay. I can do this. I only need three minutes to get into the house and retrieve the book from upstairs. Mick is going to be livid when I get back to the hotel, but he’ll be fine. I’ll calm him down. And we’ll have the evidence he needs to get us free of this case. This world.
Maybe, just maybe, I want to save the day, too. Is that so unrealistic? I’ve been a victim for so long and I’m tired of it. I’ve found this man I want to live with, be happy with. I’m not letting anything stop me from making it happen.
I ask the cab driver to wait and speed walk down the driveway, mentally plotting my movements through the house. But I slow to a walk at the front door, realizing my plan has already hit a snag. I don’t have house keys. Unbelievable. I don’t have keys to my own house. No turning back now, though. Whatever it takes, I’m getting that book.
After testing the door to make sure its locked, I throw a glance back over my shoulder at the cab driver who is staring at his phone, then I circle to the side of the house, coming to a stop in front of a window. Taking a deep breath for courage, I take off my shoe and throw it straight through the glass, waiting. Nothing happens. Thank God. My father must have forgotten to set the alarm in the confusion of evacuating.
I take off my other shoe, using it to clear away the jagged shards along the bottom of the pane. Judging I’ve already gone past my three minutes, I heft myself up and climb into the window. Careful to avoid the glass, I hit the ground running, taking the stairs up to my room two at a time. Adrenaline spins like mini windmills in my veins, my heart pounding, my vision bright and sharp.
The hate and resentment that fills me when I unlock and enter my room momentarily freezes me in my path. But thinking of Mick, I fight through it and run into the bathroom at full speed, throwing open the door and entering my painting room. The book is sitting right where I left it on a crate full of paints, such a functional thing that has become vital overnight.
I grab it, spin around and run for the door, not even bothering to give my room a final glance before tearing down the hallway, book clutched to my chest. I’m at the foot of the stairs, intending to stuff my feet back into my shoes and climb back out the window…when my father walks into the house.
His expression goes from calm to deadly in the space of a second.
But it goes nuclear when he registers the book in my hand. Not that he moves a single muscle. “What are you planning to do with that, daughter?”
“I was…coming to find you. I had a question about one of the orders.”
He doesn’t believe me. That much is obvious. “Why is your leg bleeding?”
“Is it?” I ask, my voice high pitched. “I don’t know.”
My father takes one step past me, rolling a single, lethal shoulder when he sees the broken window in the next room. “It appears you did not learn your lesson last night, daughter.” He raises an eyebrow. “Maybe you even liked your lesson a little too much, da?”
“I don’t know what you mean,” I whisper.
When he starts to back me toward the stairs, I drop the book, my heart rapping against my ribs. “Stop. Don’t come any closer,” I scream, surprising him. Surprising myself. I’ve never stood up to him. Never talked back or questioned him. I’ve been too afraid. Not anymore, though. I’ve got something to fight for. Someone. And I’ve got a new life to begin. A chance to make up for the years he’s stolen from me.
