Page 66 of Wicked Shadows
“She’s coming to—look!” Carrie yelled loud enough for Elle to hear her through the door had she not seen the cue on the screen. “Katrina, are you okay?”
“What? What happened?” Her eyes fluttered open and darted between the two people hovering over her.
“You fainted—passed out cold. I thought you were dying.” Carrie wiped tears from her cheeks and sniffled. “You scared me to death. Don’t ever do that to me again.”
“My blood sugar must’ve dropped too low. It does that sometimes and I get the shakes, but I’ve only passed out once before. I didn’t recognize the signs this time.”
They helped Katrina sit up, the butler watching her closely for signs of any other problems. Katrina glanced over his shoulder and saw Elle watching them. Relief washed over her with the knowledge they’d given her enough time to get out of the room without being seen.
“Katrina, what can I do? What can I get you?” Elle asked, joining the commotion.
“Some orange juice would be great. Thank you, Elle.”
“Are you sure you’re okay? Do you need the doctor?” the butler asked, genuine concern filling his tone.
We’re under his watch, and apparently, he’ll be held responsible if anything happens,Elle thought as she poured the juice.Interesting.
“I’m sure,” Katrina replied, taking the plastic cup from Elle. She sipped the juice, giving an Oscar-worthy performance and holding his full attention with the most mundane scene ever written. “I feel better already. Maybe I’ll just relax on the couch in here for a few minutes.”
He helped her onto the couch and went out of his way to make her comfortable. Pillows, a blanket, and more juice as a precaution. “I’ll be back to check on you in a few minutes. I thought for sure you’d been exposed to peanuts.”
“No, nothing like that. I wouldn’t be breathing if I had. No need to worry about me now.”
“We’ll stay with her for a while.” Carrie sat beside her, still playing the guilt-ridden, despondent friend.
“Was it worth it?” Katrina whispered when he’d left them alone.
“Definitely,” Elle replied. “We have a plan.”
Elle and Carrie helped Katrina up to take her back to her room. Elle glanced over at the room she’d just left and saw the door had been shut. The narrow window of opportunity she’d been given wasn’t lost on her, nor was the slim chance of success they’d have to escape. But she’d take that chance and make it count for all it was worth. If she died trying, at least her death would be for a noble reason. Rolling over and being a good little doormat was never her style anyway.
Beth joined them in Katrina’s room, anxious to hear what Elle had found. “Great performances, ladies. That’s why you make the big bucks and I do your makeup. Let’s hear it, Elle. How do we get out of here?”
“We have to go through the basement.”
“No.” Carrie’s stern tone mixed with her clenched fists, and she shook her head in vehement rejection.
“I don’t want to go back down there either, but it’s our best option. There are no active cameras in that room—only in the stairwell down and outside the outer door. They must specifically activate the cameras down there. And with us up here, there’s no reason to. Plus, I may have taken them offline completely while I was in there.
“That door leads to a separate driveway on the back of the house. There’s a smaller gate at the back of the brick fence. We can climb it and get out. We’ll have to run like hell once we get out the door. I say we do it at night when we won’t be seen as easily.”
“Yes. Let’s go tonight. We’re pushing our luck more and more the longer we stay here,” Katrina agreed.
“I’m in. Tonight, it is. I’m ready to get home,” Beth added.
All eyes turned to Carrie and waited for her assent. “Okay, I can do this.”
When the house was silent late that night, they each left their rooms at different times in case anyone was watching the monitors. They made their way to the kitchen and listened for anyone else stirring. When Elle was satisfied they hadn’t been seen, she led the group down the back stairs to the basement door.
“How do we get past the door without making noise and alerting the entire house what we’re doing?” Beth asked.
Elle pulled a key from her pocket. “I stole this from their control room.” She slid the key into the lock and said a silent prayer. The tumblers disengaged, and the knob turned in her hand. Like a shot in the dark, the foursome sprinted across the basement, now void of all the eerie black plastic that covered it before.
The door leading outside was easily unlocked from the inside; the owner obviously didn’t consider his captives would make it that far. Elle threw the door open, and they dashed across the lush, green grass behind the house. Their adrenaline was at an all-time high—the gate to freedom was in view, glowing like a beacon in the pale moonlight, illuminating their path.
Freedom was almost within their reach when the yard was lit up by floodlights that seemed to come from everywhere. Angry male voices shouted orders and four-wheelers skidded to a halt between them and the gate. Men jumped off and rushed at them, much like a linebacker targets a quarterback to stop the play. The four women scattered, running in different directions to draw attention and give the others a chance to escape. If only one got free, the rest would be saved.
Screams filled the night, echoing on the breeze as they were corralled and caught one by one. All four were brought together by a host of clean-cut guards in uniforms mixed with scary men dressed all in black, wearing leather vests, and sporting long beards and shaggy hair. The thugs’ presence was a direct contradiction to their palatial prison, exactly how the man in St. Lucia appeared to be out of his element at the überposh resort.
