Page 64 of Rescuing Josiah
They were killing the couples here who had come to buy organs. That meant they knew Prey was there. They were cleaning house like they’d done on the boat after Ava escaped.
Panicking right now would get her killed, but Chelsea couldn’t seem to stop her breath sawing in and out of her chest, or slow her wildly hammering heart.
The linen closet.
She had to get to it.
It was still a valid hiding place, and once the men had fired into her and Josiah’s room, she could get outside to Bridget. She wouldn't put it past these people to kill the child even if Bridgetwas the reason Desiree had started the trafficking ring to begin with.
More muffled pops echoed through the otherwise quiet mansion as she ran for the linen closet.
Once inside, she pulled out a stack of blankets and crammed herself into the back of the shelf before stacking them in front of her like an incredibly useless barrier. If she was spotted in there, the blankets would do absolutely nothing to stop a bullet.
Seconds felt like hours, and she tried to be logical about it, count out each step the guards would take, the opening of the doors, the firing of the weapons. Chelsea tried not to miss how many rooms were between her and where she’d spotted the guards. If she miscalculated, she’d leave her hiding place too soon and be spotted and likely shot on sight.
Only once she was almost positive that the guards must be gone did she slowly push away the blankets. No one had opened the linen closet looking for her, so the guards either believed she’d been in her bed when they’d fired their shots, or they knew she hadn't been there and were now searching for her.
Knowing that Josiah would be furious with her for not staying put, Chelsea also knew that if she did, she could easily be found. Getting out of the house was her best bet, and Bridget was still out there alone.
Bad idea or not, she was getting to that child.
Each step she took through the house, her nerves ramped up another notch. The metallic stench of blood was beginning to permeate the hall, and it made nausea churn in her stomach.
Death.
It was the smell of death.
While she wanted the people who had gone there to buy an organ to be punished for their choices, choices they’d known were wrong, they didn't deserve to be shot in their beds. They’d made these choices out of desperation, she got that, and theybelieved the donors were all criminals, she got that, too, but prison would have been a more fitting punishment.
By the time she reached the top of the stairs, Chelsea was physically shaking. She was definitely not cut out for this. Being undercover was one thing, but the constant waiting for a shot to hit you in the back—or the front—was quite another.
At the bottom of the stairs, she heard voices.
Positive she was about to be spotted, she took off at a dead run.
With her pulse pounding in her ears, she couldn’t hear anything else as she darted across the gardens, doing her best to hide behind things as she went, and keeping low to make herself less visible.
By some miracle, she made it all the way to the maze. Bridget was out here somewhere, and she was positive this was where the child would hide.
Taking the same route she’d used the other day, only this time running full speed, she spotted the little girl right around where she had first met her.
“Bridget?”
At the sound of her name, the child squeaked and began to crawl under the hedges.
“Wait!” Chelsea shouted. “It’s me, remember? We met here before, you told me how to get to the middle so I could beat my husband.”
The girl froze then slowly crept backward, looking up at her with big, round eyes.
“Do you remember me?”
Bridget nodded slowly.
“What are you doing out here all alone, sweetie?”
“Bad men are coming. My mommy was angry, and I got scared,” Bridget whispered.
“So you came to your favorite place?”
