Page 127 of Always Knew It Was You

I shrug, but then suddenly a little girl’s voice intrudes. “I know.”

We all glance over in unison to where Amelia stands at her room doorway. She’s in her pajamas and clearly supposed to be asleep but has probably been listening in on the conversation the whole time.

“I think I know where they are.”

CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

CARLY

I get my chance to escape sometime around daybreak.

Both men took turns keeping watch over me throughout the night, but the Burned Man just went outside muttering about needing some air, and Jordan Rojas is asleep on the couch.

Jordan hasn’t stirred since his “shift” ended hours ago. And the Burned Man has only gotten more irritable as time passes. Maybe it’s because I made a show of softly sobbing into the makeshift pillow, no matter how many times he told me to stop. Eventually, he went to the couch to sit and observe me from there, which was the whole point of my crying in the first place. The couch shielded his view of me just a little, just enough for me to do what I had to do.

Strangely, it’s just the two of them keeping watch. I thought there would be more lackeys arriving, but I guess the rest of the pearl thieves have been rounded up by the FBI so they must be low on manpower. This also doesn’t feel like a well-planned operation on their end, more like something they cooked up due to sheer desperation and hatred. It works in my favor because it gives me loopholes to exploit.

I bided my time the whole night, playing up how scared I was and pretending to be spooked by the slap they gave me. My cheeks still sting even though Jordan put some kind of treatment on it. Apparently, they have a first aid kit lying around for whatever reason and Jordan is still playing up the “nice guy without a choice” angle. Nevertheless, I didn’t give a single protest for the rest of the night. I simply lay in the corner, on the floor, crying but obedient.

But my sobs were also to hide the fact that I was slowly trying to extricate my hands from the zip ties. They took off the one on my legs when I had to pee, and simply tied them with a rope when we returned. Jordan, who was the one to take me to the bathroom, made a mistake and tied the rope over some of the fabric of my maxi skirt, which gave me some slack to work with. Not a lot, mind you, and I rub myself raw but I don’t give up.

I have to get out of here.

I continued working on the zip ties on my wrist too. I tried different angles, scared that I might have to dislocate my finger to get it out. But sometime, during the night, I found out that by tucking my thumb in and pressing down to the point of pain, I can make one of my hands small and flat enough that it just about squeezes out.

But I don’t do it until the Burned Man is gone.

Once he leaves that morning, I work as quickly and silently as I can to get those things off.

It takes me about twelve tries and two minutes to get it right. Too much time. For those heart-pounding minutes, I stare at the door, terrified that he’ll come back and catch me before I manage to break free entirely. I swallow the desperate cries as I tug and tug and finally tug my hand free. I don’t stop to celebrate, making quick work of the rope around my ankles.

And then I get to my feet quietly and look around. I can’t go out the front door. He might be there, waiting for me to escape. Luckily, there’s a window in the kitchen, but the metal frame and casing look rusted.

It’s going to be a pain to open that without making noise, but I’m going to have to somehow manage it.

I creep there and climb onto the counter by the sink, praying it doesn’t break or give off any sound. Then I put both hands under the window, slowly attempting to slide it up. It lets out the littlest of creaks and my heart pounds.

Shit.

I glance back toward the living room. Luckily, Jordan doesn’t show signs of stirring.

Relief flows through my body. I don’t dare breathe, nor do I lift the window anymore. I can’t risk waking him up.

I analyze the opening. It’s just enough for me to get out, but I’ll have to get creative. I don’t have a choice because I can’t afford to pull it up anymore and wake Jordan. After a few seconds of serious thought, I bite my lip and bend over, putting my right leg through. Once it gets close enough to the ground, I slowly inch my body along.

A few seconds later, I almost get stuck somewhere with my neck against my left thigh. But I don’t panic. I simply breathe and imagine I’m doing yoga or something. Yeah, that’s it. This is just an uncomfortable yoga pose, like the one Tate tried to teach me that one time she had Emma and me in her class.

Relax.I hear Tate’s voice in my head.Breathe in and out. Let your body do what it’s built to do.

I twist my head to the side and stick it out first, before pulling the rest of my body.

And just like that I’m free.

I don’t take time to savor the victory.

Run,I think, as urgency tightens my muscles. But I temper the impulse to take off blindly. It’s still pretty dark out and we’re surrounded by woods, but I still need to be on the alert. He could be anywhere.

After my initial scan I immediately run for a tree, hiding behind it. I don’t know where I am, or how far I am from the road. I also don’t know where the Burned Man is. I know I’m not safe yet, not even close. If anything, things have become much more dangerous.

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