Page 43 of Take a Hike
Knowing he had her back—and much more competently than Fifi and Bennett had at dinner earlier—steadied her hands and let her focus on the Yale Premier Single Cylinder YH82 dead bolt in front of her. Counting the time off in her head, she picked the lock in a fairly decent time of thirty-seven seconds. Not her best, but not bad under the current conditions.
Giving Kieran a light nudge on the side of his thigh to let him know she’d finished, she returned to her position by the door. Once he was in place as well, she turned the knob once more. This time, the door swung open silently.
When everything stayed quiet, Charlie slipped inside, mentally cursing the darkness as her eyes, accustomed to the semi-lit hall, struggled to make out the room’s interior. If someone was waiting to attack, they’d have a nice, stationary target since she wouldn’t be able to see them coming toward her. Her adrenaline told her to keep moving, to make herself a more difficult target, but her common sense reminded her that she didn’t know the furniture layout, and braining herself on an inconveniently placed dresser was not a solid plan.
Although it felt like it’d taken a year, her eyes finally adjusted to the low light, and dark shapes gradually revealed more detail, illuminated through the wide-open door. Charlie’s gaze immediately landed on the queen-size bed, where a single person—judging by the shape of the lump—took up a portion of mattress. She went still, waiting for whoever it was to leap up either screaming or shooting—or both.
When neither of those things happened, Charlie crept around to the side to get a better view. Once she saw the light hair spread over the pillow and the full lips parted on heavy, sleeping breaths, she knew who was sleeping in what Charlie had assumed was Clint’s bed.
Gabrielle Jones, Cobra’s widow.
The presence of the woman filled Charlie with new doubts. Was this actually Cobra’s old room that his wife inherited? If so, there was no point of leaving any monitoring devices in here. In fact, it would feel creepy and intrusive to be recording Gabrielle when she wasn’t one of Clint’s henchmen—or henchpeople.
Unless she is?
Charlie’s brain worked a million miles an hour as she hurried over to a bookshelf holding more bits and pieces than books. She stuck a bug on the bottom inside edge of the front cover of a dusty hardback and then crossed the room to add one to the back of the dresser mirror. She spent an extra few seconds deciding the best position for the camera. Although inside the return air grille was tempting, she didn’t want to take the time all that unscrewing and replacing the grille would require.
Her gaze landed on a teddy bear sitting on the top shelf of the bookshelf, and she grinned as she headed for it. The bear had an open mouth, lined with black felt, and she adhered the camera inside his fuzzy maw before stepping back to admire the stuffed-bear symmetry of her spy cameras.
“Charlie, company.”
Although Kieran had breathed the warning, her name barely loud enough for her to hear, she still startled as if he’d shouted, knowing he wouldn’t have saidanythingunless it was urgent. Turning toward him, she saw him ease the door closed and then charge across the room in her direction.
Someone was coming.
She went still, the newly darkened room turned to pitch around her. Kieran’s form loomed right in front of her, black against black, and he took hold of her arm. Keeping the layout of the room in mind, she made a mental list of various possible hiding spots. The options weren’t great. There were two doors in addition to the one they’d entered—private bathroom and closet, she assumed. Bathrooms were terrible for hiding in—there were never any concealed spots except the obvious andimmediately discoverable ones, and any windows tended to be tiny. She might be able to wriggle through a small opening, but Kieran needed a bigger exit.
Closets typically had even fewer windows than bathrooms, but they tended to have lots of clothes and things to hide behind, plus it was less likely an unsuspecting militia person would accidentally stumble over them. As clichéd and not great as it was, the closet looked to be their best option.
By the time her internal debate was done, Charlie’s eyes had again adjusted enough to be able to at least make out shapes and forms. Kieran gave her a nudge, having reached the same conclusion, judging by the way he moved toward the first of the two doors just as the faint sound of voices reached her ears.
Forcing herself to keep her pace slow—since tripping over a random duck decoy or pair of discarded cargo pants at this point would be not only stupid but dangerous—she picked her way through the near-darkness. The voices grew loud enough for Charlie to make out two distinct tones, although they were still too muffled for her to understand any of their words.
Kieran silently opened the first door. The glow from a night-light reflected off a toilet and pedestal sink, and he just as quietly closed the door again. The voices grew louder, and Charlie could pick out a word here or there. Taking a deep breath, she soundlessly exhaled, trying to keep her heart from pounding and blocking out everything else. She had a feeling she’d need all her senses to get them both safely out of the compound.
“…check…doubt she…like the dead.”
One of the voices steadily increased in volume and clarity,as if the person was getting closer to them, and she looked at Kieran, even though his face was just a featureless black blob. Charlie hurried to grab the doorknob on the second door, pulling it open as a heavy knock landed on the bedroom door.
“Gabby? You asleep?”
The latch clicked as someone turned the doorknob, and a slice of light from the hallway cut into the darkness of the room. Charlie realized there was another danger besides being caught by the guy from the hall. The loud knocking for sure woke up Gabrielle. All she had to do was turn her head to see Charlie and Kieran lurking in her room, pretending to be invisible.
Grabbing blindly for Kieran’s hand, Charlie dove into the even deeper darkness of the closet—or what shehopedwas a closet. Thankfully, the press of fabric on her face was a good sign. She wiggled around to face the door—or rather to face Kieran’s looming form, which was wedged between her and the exit—cringing at the rustle of clothes her movement caused.
Kieran pressed back against her even more tightly as he closed the door, and she tried to move back to give them both some room, but the mass of clothes behind her was like a semi-squishy but immovable wall. What felt like the corner of a hanger dug into the back of her neck, and she shifted to the side to avoid it.
“Shh!” Even though Kieran barely breathed the command, it was still loaded with bossy.
She went still except for her index finger, which gave a reprimanding poke to his ribs—or where she guessed his ribs were.He jolted but didn’t make a sound. Charlie had a feeling she’d be hearing about it once they were free of the closet—and the whole compound.
“Gabby?” The voice was muffled through the closet door, but still too close for comfort. It also made Charlie realize that if the militia members were returning to their rooms, that meant the distraction was no longer doing its job, and the guards were also likely returning to their posts. Getting out of the compound was going to be…tricky. “Gabby!”
The sudden increase in volume made Charlie jump, although she couldn’t move very much. She even had to turn her head to the side so she didn’t squash her nose on his rock-hard back. That meant that every one of her inhales took in a mouthful of his warmth and faint smoke and distinctive new-car scent, and she made yet another mental note to ask him what exactly made him smell like anticipation and celebration and fresh-from-the-factory plastic.
A hand on her hip made her start, but Kieran’s gentle squeeze was reassuring, and she was oddly glad when he kept his fingers where they were instead of releasing her. His hold, along with the press of his back against her front, grounded her in the thick darkness of the closet.
“Wha?” A sleep-thickened feminine voice penetrated the closet door, and Charlie closed her eyes in frustration—not that there was any visual difference between closing her eyes and keeping them open. Now that the bedroom’s occupant was awake, they were going to have to figure out how to escape the closet before they could even worry about the reposted guards.“What’s going on?”
