AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Cannon softly closes the door. It’s quieter than when he entered.
He nearly embraces me as he whispers, “We’re going out the laundry room window. Jacobi’s looping old feed through the security cameras. Be quieter than you’ve been in your fucking life.”
I give a shaky nod. I’m not good for much, but I can be light on my feet.
I walk on my toes. Cannon’s steps are slow and steady as we wind around the hallways to the large laundry room used by staff.
The only light coming from the room is what’s filtering in through uncovered windows. There are three industrial washers and a wall of dryers next to them. Long tables are lined up in front of the dryers, and there are three hanging racks on wheels. They’re all across the room from the two paltry windows. This is the oldest part of the house.
Makes sense it’s here that Cannon chose to enter and exit.
Cannon leads me to the windows.
A ray of light cuts through the shadows.
There’s a shout. “Mick! She’s gone.”
I strangle off a gasp. I want to sprint, to crash through the glass. Freedom is on the other side.
“Shit,” Cannon mutters. He drags me past the window and to the right.
Where the hell—
In the back corner is another door. Of course there’s an exit down here. The backyard slopes, and there are at least three doors on the side of the house by the pool. I had no need to go in and out of them. Each level of the house has a patio or walkway down to the pool level, but I spent as much time as I could away from the house after the first year of marriage. There are housekeepers, groundskeepers, chefs, and maintenance workers. I had no need to go into many rooms other than the den I converted into my office and my bedroom. It’s why I preferred the studio.
This place isn’t home. Never was.
He eases through a door that doesn’t squeak and give us away as voices grow louder behind us in the hallways. Did I mess up? Did the other guy relent and bring me water and that’s going to get me busted?
Cannon squeezes my hand. “When we get outside, we have to run, but not until I tell you.”
I nod, but he can’t see me. I’m ready to sprint. Going slow and quiet is killing me. But I’ll tiptoe the hell out of Bel Air if that’s what’s needed.
I step outside. The chlorine scent of the pool faintly mingles with the piney smell of the trees surrounding the property. There’s a commotion from the laundry room, and I just want to scream out the fear lodged in my throat.
“Shit.” Cannon’s grip tightens on my hand. “Run.” He takes off, but he doesn’t let go of me.
As I sprint over the pavers that make up the pool area and my shoes hit the soft manicured grass, I realize that this isn’t a random flight. He’s leading me in a zigzag pattern over the lawn and through the trees leading to the wrought iron fence around the house. He can’t keep me behind him because I don’t know the way, but he’s not risking letting me go.
That’s not what a hired hit man would do.
We reach the fence, and I expect to see some posts cut out to make a hole big enough for a body to scoot through. The fence stands strong and intimidating, just like Roman when I was brought to him two days ago.
“How are we—”
He grabs me around the waist and says, “Jump.”
That answers only part of my question. I can get to the bar that connects each post about a foot from the top, but how do I clear the decorative tips that I considered old-world charming but now look like sinister flesh-piercing barbs?
I’m about to summon every dance technique I’ve learned to get height when movement draws my attention to the lawn. It’s the middle of the night, but nothing in LA is ever completely dark. Shadowy forms race across the lawn.
“Go,” Cannon orders.
I launch upward, and with Cannon’s strong hold on me, I worry I might skyrocket over the fence and break my neck on the other side. My fingers curl around the cool metal, and I get a foot up. Using the full length of my arms, I balance and stick my ass in the air as I switch feet and swing one foot over. I change my grip so I can hang and drop on the other side.
Cannon hovers until my feet hit the other side, then he launches himself up, swinging to the other side as if he is clearing a three-foot wall.
One of the shadows pursuing us stops, going eerily still. His stance is ominous.
