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Yes, I need to be smart.
I need to plan.
Long game is the only way. I have to outwit a very intelligent and formidable opponent.
I wait for as long as I can but I have no choice but to plan my escape now before fatigue takes over. I’ll sneak out of the house, scan the area for security guards, electric fences, alarms, guard dogs, or any other device that could make my escape difficult. I’ll start formulating a plan and be back before anyone’s the wiser. I know I can remain quiet, stay in the shadows, and avoid detection from security.
I throw back the white comforter and quickly create a makeshift rope from the sheets I pull off my bed. Tying one end around the iron bed frame, I open the window and toss the rope out. Throwing my leg over the windowsill, I force a smile at my little plan. If I try to pretend I’m sneaking out like a teenager meeting her boyfriend rather than fleeing from a finger-cutting psychopath’s mansion, then maybe I won’t be so scared.
I swing my foot back and forth until I find my first toehold. Holding onto the ledge with one hand, the sheet with the other, I back out of the window and place my second foot onto a trellis that is filled with branches of a vining plant. With my full weight on the framework, I hear an ominous crack and feel the wood begin to sway a bit.
Moving as quickly as I can, I descend the sheets, using the wooden lattice to aid in my escape. Time after time, I have to bite back a cry as a thorn or piece of wood pierces my skin through my clothing or scrapes my legs or hands with each move downward.
Just a couple of feet before reaching the bottom, I suddenly feel no resistance in my arms. Looking up, I see the tail end of the sheet whip out the window. My rope has come free of the bed frame, my knot-tying skills obviously subpar.
I fall the remaining distance, landing squarely on my ass. I freeze, listening, knowing the thud and my squeal did little for my covert operation. When I don’t hear the sound of security rushing toward me, I finally stand up and brush the dirt, thorns, and broken twigs from my body, grateful none of the security have heard a thing.
Releasing the breath I haven’t been aware I’m holding, I pluck a final thorn from my palm and brush my hair back. I keep my body pressed to the side of the mansion as I peek around the corner. Two men who almost look like identical twins stand guard. They both have shaved heads, wearing black suits, and are large in stature.
“Any news on Mr. Hudson’s guest?” one of them asks.
My eyes fixate on how the moonlight illuminates the smoothness of his head. It almost appears as if he’s lit up from underneath.
“I wish. I heard that Mr. Hudson pranced her through the house completely naked for the entire staff to see. You and I were the dummies standing outside missing it all,” his doppelgänger replies.
He punches his twin in the arm. “I’m not talking about her being naked. I’m asking if anyone knows why she’s here.”
“Business, I guess.” He chuckles. “Naked business.”
“You can be a real idiot, you know that?” He shoves him away and shakes his head. “I don’t even know why I bother with you.”
My face heats at the memory of such a mortifying experience, and it’s made even worse now that I can hear people gossiping about it.
The twin punches his arm in return. “You want to see her naked just as badly as I do. Don’t lie.”
I don’t want to stand around and eavesdrop any longer. I look around and can see a massive stone wall that is concealed in shrubs flanking both sides of the large gate that leads to the driveway at the front of the house. The grounds are well lit, and I know there is no way for me to get out the front gate undetected. The backside of the house is all ocean, so it’s not like I can run that way. There’s a dock with a speedboat parked at it, and I consider seeing if there is a way to steal the boat. Maybe the keys are left inside. But like the driveway, the dock is well lit too. The chances of being discovered is too much of a risk. I do make a mental note to keep my eye out for a set of boat keys in the future, however. It’s an option for escape. Unlikely, but still an option.
But if I follow the coastline…
I make my way to the beach and begin walking along the shore, not caring that my shoes are getting wet. Though his property is large, I’m hoping to see some neighbors along the shore. Maybe there are hotels or restaurants down the way. I’m just praying I’m not on an island that is owned by Nick with no chance of escape. He did speak of neighbors, even though he said they wouldn’t help me… but maybe they will if I plead my story.
