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He sighed as I slackened in his arms. The insides of my cheeks were raw after biting through the pain in my shoulder. “I’m going to let you go now. Don’t go chasing after him,” he warned.
“I won’t,” I promised. The fight left my body completely, and a weight was lifted from my chest.
“What the fuck happened to your shoulder?” he growled so low, I could barely make out the words. It was as if he took my rage from me. I sucked in a deep breath, the same moment he poked the area next to the wound.
“Exactly what it looks like,” I hissed.
“Holy shit, we need to get you checked out.”
I shook my head wildly. “Not yet, we are going to go find those women.”
“You were shot, Abby. That’s serious!” he argued. “Look how close it is to your heart!”
But it didn’t hit my heart; it was my shoulder. My lungs and feet still worked, so I was going to look for the victims, whether he helped me or not. “What else is serious is the fear those victims are probably feeling—wondering what’s going on out here.” I shifted on my feet and looked away. Hopefully a subject change would make him forget about my shoulder, at least temporarily. “Did they find any in the other houses?”
“Yes, they found around twenty in each house, but that’s not surprising. Those houses weren’t as large as this one. We expect to find more here. The problem is they haven’t been in any of the rooms we cleared,” he said.
“Where were they in the other two houses?”
“In the back of the house in the upper floors.”
“At the furthest point from the exit,” I commented.
“Yeah.”
I thought about the layout of the house. It was massive, and on stilts, so there was no basement to check. So we needed to look up. We were on the fourth floor, and the house looked even taller than that from the outside, like there would have been room for an attic.
“I know where they’re at.” I walked around, staring at the ceiling.
Adam watched me for a moment.
“You think they are in an attic?” he asked.
“That’s the only place they can be. It’s probably soundproofed and everything. We just need to find the door.”
There were no open and obvious doors. I searched each room, looking for hidden switches or latches. After fifteen minutes, I started to consider the possibility that I was wrong. I circled back to the last bedroom, and there was still no door. I threw open the closet door, feeling frustrated. I tipped back my head while I let out a frustrated sigh.
I opened my eyes and grinned.
CHAPTERTHIRTY-FIVE
abby
Ifound it tucked away in the closet ceiling.
“Come press this button.” My voice wavered with repressed excitement. Once we got all the women rescued, then it would feel like it was really over. Then I could finally take a breath and take a step back.
Adam stepped behind me, his front pressed against my back. His body was warm and solid, lending me the last bit of strength I needed to see this through. What I was about to witness was likely going to be rough. Phantom smells and sounds filled my memory and caused me to shiver. Adam put a hand on my shoulder to reassure me as he reached out to press the button next to the attic door. I was too short to reach.
The latch released with a quiet click. The door opened a crack, and Adam pulled the ladder down. I heard whimpers coming from space. Foul smells slowly got stronger. I regretted not taking one last deep breath.
“My name is Special Agent Abby Brookes. I’m with the FBI. We just arrested your captors, and you’re safe with me. I’m coming up, slowly.” I kept my voice gentle. These women were traumatized, and the last thing I wanted to do was spook them further. I perfected a soothing tone during my time in the high rise in New York. I held several women at night when they’d cry on my shoulder. I’d whisper reassuring words and promise them that one day things would get better—and they did. For this new set of victims, things would get better too.
I stepped onto the ladder.
“Be careful.” Adam’s hand rested softly on my back to make sure I didn’t fall.
“You’re telling the woman with a bullet in her shoulder to be careful on a ladder,” I told him with a smirk. I wasn’t a piece of delicate china, but I still liked the fact that he cared. I didn’t know if I’d ever get used to someone caring for me. I’d been so self-reliant that I had to remind myself that someone trying to take care of me is a reflection of their character, not my ability to fend for myself.
