Men lied anyway. All men.
I shut off the water and started toweling dry. No. I should go. Once the storm calmed down, I’d leave. Maybe Alaska would work. A remote town. No connections. No…nothing.
But I didn’t have enough money to live on for long. I’d stolen quite a bit from Nicco’s stash, but not enough to live out life without ever working again.Shit.Maybe Bill would have an idea. Or a connection somewhere. The guy’d been in prison more than fifteen years…
No. I’d dragged him into my screwed-up life far enough. This was on me.
I walked into my living space and turned on the kettle for some hot water. I needed to calm down, make it through the next few hours until the sun rose—if I’d even be able to see it, through all the snow.
I ripped off my sheets, bundled them up, and threw them in the corner. I was never sleeping on that bed again. No, I was never sleeping again!
The knife clanked onto the floor, and my heart stopped. Damn knife. Stupid, fucking knife! I snatched it off the floor and threw it at the wall beside the door. It stuck there, the handle wobbling. That thing was cursed.
It’d been my salvation from my prison yet kept me its prisoner all on its own. Back in Mexico, I’d cut out the tracking device Nicco had put in my wrist with that thing. Carved out a chunk of skin big as a quarter. I rubbed the numb spot on my wrist absent-mindedly.
The prick had gotten overconfident with that tracker, since it’d worked to find me on two other escape attempts, so he’d let me go to the bathroom by myself.
A rare thing—I shivered.
Two chicks eyed me as I stomped into the bathroom. Maybe it was the massive black eye I was sporting or the cuts along my neck. If they’d only seen my inner thighs…
But I’d learned not to ask for help. And learned well. So I kept my mouth shut as I locked myself in the biggest stall at the end of the row. I pulled my salvation from my pants. I’d snagged the knife off Ryder, Nicco’s sidekick, and hid it until our next stop. Nicco didn’t think anything of it, since I’d not been out of his sight much, but he’d taught me how to be subtle. Sneaky.
With shaking fingers, I held the knife, steeling myself against what I had to do. I’d spotted a rig parked beside the gas station, then when I’d come inside to use the restroom, I heard the guy say he was leaving in a few minutes, just needed to stretch his legs.
I had only a couple of minutes to do this. My mouth went dry. It’d be worth it. It was either this, or I was slitting my wrists. No way was I going back in that car with Nicco.
I pressed the cool blade against my fevered skin, the sweat making things so clammy and slippery. Drawing in a deep breath, I closed my eyes and sliced.
I bit back the scream tearing at my throat. Another slice, then finally the last one. Like carving an apple. I’d been practicing.
I glanced down, and the bile rose. I had to stay focused. Breathe, Sarah. Breathe. I picked up the flesh and flipped it over. A tiny black device was affixed to the skin. I’d done it. I’d gone deep enough.
Yes!
I tossed the flesh into the sanitary bin, then wadded up some toilet paper and pressed it against my wound. Once I was out in the sink area, I dampened two paper towels, then pressed them tight against my wrist. I wound a roll of toilet paper around my makeshift gauze.
The door burst open, and I jumped.
A girl stormed by and went right into a stall, not even noticing my wrist. Thankfully.
I caught the door handle before it slammed shut and peeked out. All clear.
And I bolted. For freedom.
A whistle ripped me out of the memory. The water was ready. I glanced at the wall to the weapon I both loved and hated. It helped set me free, but now I realized it was hurting me even more. It was keeping me tied to Nicco.
It either had to represent my freedom, or it had to go. Or maybe I had to go.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Drey
Isatatthebottom of the stairs, my leg throbbing and the wind howling outside the door, and I checked my phone again.
“Shit.” I’d called Hunter almost an hour ago, but he wasn’t here yet. Damn storm…
Everything sounded quiet in her place from what I could tell. I’d heard the water click on, the pipes groaning, but nothing since. At least Sarah was safe inside the apartment.