I start piling medical supplies, especially anesthesia, which I figure will be useful in the stitch room—and can easily conceal the pregnancy kit in my basket.
As I approach the shelf with the pregnancy kits, I glance over my shoulder, half-expecting the guards to materialize at my side, but they’re lingering by the entrance.
My throat tightens as I pick up two small, rectangular boxes, their pastel blue and white designs almost mocking in their simplicity. The kits feel heavier than they should. And the air seems to thicken around me as I shove them deep into my shopping basket, hiding them beneath other items.
It’s just precautionary, nothing more… I hope.
Just then, the door chimes and a tall man with a thick blonde beard enters. I begin to pay attention to him when he locks eyes with me and winks. Then he stands at the edge of the aisle, checking out condoms.
He’s dressed in a casual white tee and blue jeans, his blonde locks tucked underneath a baseball hat. His posture is relaxed, but a prickling unease crawls up my spine.
Then he quits checking out the products and stares straight at me. I pull my eyes away, taking a few steps away from the pregnancy kit shelf to check out sanitary pads.
“Raven, right?” A deep voice rumbles beside me. When I turn to look at him, he stops me. “Don’t look. Keep browsing your shelf.”
My heart skips a beat. From the corner of my eyes, I glance at him. He’s wearing a neutral expression, eyes fixed on the tampon shelf next to me. How does he know my name? What does he want?
I browse my mind for anything that can give me answers but come up with none. I can confirm that I've never seen this man or have any mutuals connected to him. But maybe he’s a former patient.
"Who are you?" I question him, contemplating whether to signal for help. I quickly let my eyes roam to the guards—they’re watching me but don’t seem to suspect anything.
“Don’t fret,” he says, softly, his eyes fixed on the tampon stand. “Just a friend looking to help out,” he says, as his hand pulls out a pack of tampons.
“I have enough friends. I’m not looking for another.” I swallow but don’t attempt to end the conversation. For him to know my name, it means he knows me and I want to hear what he has to say before I decide my next move.
I catch him tilting his head as he picks another product from the stand.
“Feels good to finally be out in the fresh air, doesn’t it?”
I pause and narrow my eyes at him... in the best way I can while remaining inconspicuous. Is it just me, or does this man know so—
Before I complete my thoughts, his words hit me.
“You don’t look like you miss home.” His tone is light.
A gasp escapes my throat, and it takes everything in me not to turn and face him. Who the hell is this man?
“Who are−”
“I wonder... if the roles were reversed, would you so easily forget your best friend?”
The pad in my hand falls to the floor as shock stills my fingers.
“I…I don’t know what you are talking about,” I stutter.
Did Harper hire him to find me?
“Protecting your captor, I see. Tell me, is that because you’re getting cozy with him?” he adds, his voice holding a hint of amusement.
My breathing stops, and for a second, it feels as if the earth is spinning. I glance at him, and his expression is the same. His lips pressed into a thin line, and his eyebrows relaxed – he looks too calm for someone who just dropped a bombshell.Who is this man?
His next words make my blood run cold. “I know your situation with the Marinos, and I can help.”
Sweat breaks out on my forehead as my heart hammers wildly against my chest. If he knows the cartel, then this man is not ordinary.
He glances at the guards before lowering his voice. “Relax, I consider it extremely inhumane to lock up a person like a caged animal, and so, I’d like to help you escape.”
“You’ve stopped browsing through shelves. Your guards will suspect something,” he adds. That’s enough to jumpstart my brain as I pick up the fallen pad, my throat suddenly feeling too thin to allow saliva.