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Chapter 22
Lane waited a fullfive minutes before he came out of the cellar just to make sure Desi left. When he was sure she had, he made his way out the door and to the back steps. Like a thief in the night, he silently scaled two steps at a time. Trying the doorknob, he found it locked. He doubted very much that Ike would have a key to the main part of the house, but it was worth a shot. Pulling them from his pocket, he found the right one on the fifth try.
He pushed the door open into a kitchen that was in darkness. Thanks to a log burning in a fireplace somewhere in the next room, Lane could clearly see broken glass on the floor. Gingerly, he stepped between and over the shards that glinted on the floor and made his way towards the room with the flickering light. It was a living room and not a soul was to be found but there was a staircase. Remembering what Jasmine had said where Brian slept, Lane made his way towards it then stopped.
He cocked his head and listened. He could hear someone moving around upstairs. It had to be Brian. With his back to the wall, he made his way up the winding staircase, glancing behind himself as he did.
On the second-floor landing, he could see that Brian’s door stood open. With a light shining from within, Lane could see a shadow moving to-and-fro along the bedroom wall. He took a step forward ready to rush into the room when the house shook from the force of a door slamming shut downstairs. Soon the sound of furniture being tossed followed by a string of curse words broke the silence.
A young woman in a sleeveless white nightgown darted out of the bedroom and peered over the railing to see what the commotion was. As she slowly backed away, she raised her eyes and looked straight at Lane.
He saw the terrified look in those eyes as she motioned for him to come to her before she disappeared back into the bedroom.
He wondered if it was a trap, but the look in her eyes was enough to convince him that it wasn’t. Trusting his gut, he walked into the room and closed the door.
Turning to the woman he noticed the bruises along both arms and her dishevelled hair. “Who are you?” he asked.
“My name is Brit McCoy; can you help me?”
Lane nodded. “Of course. What do you need help with?”
She ducked beside the four-poster bed, when a crash echoed off the walls downstairs. “I need help getting out of here, I want to go back home.”
“We can’t leave him there,” Desi said, as Luke ushered her through the brush. “Lane doesn’t know what Brian is capable of.”
Jasmine grabbed Luke’s arm. “She’s right. He won’t hesitate to shoot him.”
Luke stopped and looked at the two of them. “Lane can handle it. His hands and feet are registered as deadly weapons.”
“That doesn’t matter!” Desi shook her head. “A bullet can travel faster than he can move! I’m going back.”
“To do what? Get yourself killed?” Ava asked. “No, you’re coming with us and you’re going to the clinic.”
Spinning around, Desi took off running only to run into a hulk of a man with a gun dressed in grey and a helmet on his head. He tucked the gun into the holster of his tactical vest and said, “That’s far enough little lady.”
Desi froze and looked around and was stunned as she saw more just like him materialize out of the trees.
“Where the hell did you guys come from?” she asked in hurried, hushed tones.
As Dean and Tim made their way through the maze of men standing there, Dean said, “They’re with us.”
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LANE RUBBED THE TENSIONfrom his neck. This was not part of his plan. All he had planned on doing was to come in, beat the shit out of Brian for what he did to Desi and then get out of there. He looked at Brit and said, “Just leave.”
“Don’t think I haven’t tried.” She thrust her arms out and said, “Where do you think these bruises came from?”
How many times did he do that to Desi? A dark look crossed Lane’s face. The longer he thought about it the more he wanted to kill the man.
Lane didn’t want to know why or how she ended up in Brian’s bedroom and he wasn’t going to ask either. Walking over to the closet, he pulled the doors open and saw a dresser to the right and clothes hanging in front of him. Yanking a black hoodie off a hanger, he slung it over his shoulder then rifled through a drawer and took a pair of jogging pants from within. Tossing the clothing onto the bed, he looked at her and said, “Hurry up and get dressed.”
She nodded then snatched them off the bed as Lane walked over to the door and cracked it open. The tyrant was downstairs, still busting up the place from the sounds of it. Turning back to Brit he saw her standing there all in black. Softly he closed the door and locked it then crossed the room to the window. Opening it he looked down. He was hoping that it overlooked a porch or a lower roofline, but it didn’t. It was a straight drop to the ground forty feet below. Glancing from side to side, he saw there was an old tv tower roughly three feet away. It was secured to the side of the house but from what he could see it looked rickety at best. He glanced at Brit’s slight figure and said, “C’mere.”
When she ducked down and leaned out the window beside him, he pointed and said, “You see that tower there?”
She turned wide eyes on him and nodded.
