Page 5 of Made of Steele
She had to try.
Footsteps rushed back and forth in the rear of the warehouse. She had to hurry. Even if she fell, they wouldn’t likely hear it with their movements.
She hopped one step. Wobbled. Remained standing. Another. Hopped and turned. Swayed but stayed upright.
Patrick moved too. Faced her. Concern etched in his expression.
She leaned back to the shelf and reached upward. Feeling for the right crate. Her fingers clasped the package. Cardboard and plastic. The cardboard tore. The blades spilled out. She grabbed one. Slashed her finger.
She bit down on the gag to keep from crying out. She maneuvered the blade between her fingers and signaled for Patrick to turn. The blade was slippery with her blood. She clamped onto it tighter to keep hold. Her finger burned with pain. She forced her mind away from it and onto her work.
Patrick took three hops. She felt for his zip tie with her free hand. Held it with her fingers and began sawing. Tiny small movements were all she could make.
Would this actually work in time?
She heard a car door slam and an engine start. The outside door closed.
No.They were leaving.
She sawed harder, but could only go so fast and not risk injury to Patrick’s wrists. The tie gave way.
Patrick’s hands disappeared, and he hopped to change position. He took the blade from her and bent to release his feet. He cut her wrists free. And her feet.
They both tore off their gags. She tied hers around her bleeding finger. They drew their weapons.
“The back door,” she whispered and eased around the end of the shelves to move silently down the aisle.
The soft thump of Patrick’s steps behind her gave her assurance. Former military, he would have her back if needed.
She reached the end of the aisle. The open crate sat by the exit. As she suspected, no sign of the men. She rushed to the door. Flung it open.
Two women stood there. Her sisters. Guns drawn.
They wore rain jackets and water pooled at their feet.
“Teagan.” Mackenzie let out a long breath and brushed her shoulder-length hair back. “Thank goodness you’re okay.”
“Fine, but thanks for coming to my rescue.” She holstered her weapon and looked at Patrick. She didn’t want him to listen in to the discussion she planned to have with her sisters. “You good to go back to the desk?”
He nodded.
“Not a word of what you saw tonight to anyone. Not even to a wife or girlfriend.”
He mimicked zipping his lips and marched away.
Teagan looked at Ryleigh and explained the situation, including the wounded finger. “The FBI works stolen antiquities cases, right?”
“Sometimes, but ICE does too.” Ryleigh stowed her weapon, the holster looking very odd over the Duck Tales pajama pants. “As far as I know, our office hasn’t investigated it.”
Didn’t mean they couldn’t. “Since this involves Steele Guardians, can you get your supervisor to open an investigation?”
“Into what?” Ryleigh asked. “I believe in Patrick and what he saw, but he wasn’t close enough to prove they were illegally importing antiquities, right?”
“Right,” Teagan admitted, albeit reluctantly.
Ryleigh continued to eye Teagan, her sister’s narrow-eyed stare likely the one she used when questioning suspects. “And you didn’t see them.”
“No, but we were restrained by a guy working with the brothers. No need to tie us up unless there was something going on that they didn’t want us to see.”
