Heaving my way across the floor, I cringed as the table legs scraped along the hardwood boards, leaving scratches in its wake. Shep would kill me for this if he ever tracked me down.
My muscles ached, and the chain kept slipping through my clammy hands, but I made it to the kitchen. There, I rummaged through cupboards and drawers for something that might cut through the table. I held up a large saw-like knife that must be some kind of butchering tool. Perfect!
I dropped to the floor and hacked through the timber support bar the chain was looped through. The knife wasn’t working as well as I’d hoped.
“Come on, goddammit. Hurry!”
My lungs wheezed and hands cramped. Sweat dripped down my back, but I had to keep going. When I was almost through, I tossed the knife on the floor and kicked the timber until it snapped.
Thank God!
The wall clock showed Shep had been gone for fifteen minutes. I needed to get moving.
The cuffs and chain were still attached to my left wrist, and I didn’t have time to cut it off. Guessed I had some chunky bling coming with me. I wound the chain around my forearm and threw on one of Shep’s hooded jackets to conceal it.
In the bedroom, I grabbed a backpack and tossed in clothes and toiletries. I rifled through the chest of drawers and found a credit card for Ethan Sharp, whoever that was, and a Gerber multitool. No cash, though. The gun cabinet was locked, and it would use up too much precious time to break into it.
I slipped on my running shoes and a ball cap, tucking my braid underneath, then allowed myself one final look around the small cabin where my life had forever changed. A knot lodged in my throat as I closed the door behind me.
No more wallowing. You can feel sad about it later.
I jogged to the workshop. Shep had left it unlocked, which was lucky because I didn’t want to destroy any more of his property.
I grabbed the keys from the tool cabinet and ran to the quad bike, throwing my leg over the seat. Taking a deep breath, I steeled myself.
I could do this. Ihadto do this.
With the push of a button, the bike started, and I drove through the barn doors.
Holy crap. This was happening.
I followed the driveway for perhaps a mile and stopped when I reached a letterbox and open gate. The gravel drive met with a narrow, sealed road. Opposite was a wooded forest with a dirt track running parallel to the main road. That would be the best path to follow. As soon as it intersected a track heading further into the woods, I’d travel in that direction to stay hidden from traffic. Namely, the truck of one large, lethal killing machine who’d go ballistic if he found me out here.
I had one decision remaining. Did I go left or right? I chose left, which led downhill. Shep said the town was a twenty-minute drivedownthe mountain, so I assumed this was the right way to go. I crossed the road with care.
This was it. I’d left the safety of the cabin and was on the run from Shep and from the rest of the world. I couldn’t afford to be identified. Any mistakes would mean I’d fail to help Justin and risked drawing the attention of Franky Russo.