Russell peered at the hitman. “I’m not sure what to make of everything. It’s more than what we had a moment ago. He could be giving false intel to throw us off. Who knows?”
“What are you thinking?” Clyde shot back.
Russell squeezed the steel handle of the hammer tighter. “I’m thinking that I’m going to make sure he’s shooting us straight, among other things. If you have a weak stomach, you might want to step out for a bit.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
SARAH
A clicking noise sounded inside the blinding darkness of the bedroom. The door clattered against the jamb.
Both eyes sprung open. Sarah turned from one side to the other, and sat up on the bed, disoriented from the deep slumber she had stumbled upon.
The blackness of the room filled her gaze. The outline of the dresser in front of the bed took shape. Sarah blinked and looked at the door leading into the bedroom.
A thin bead of light shone around the narrow crack lining the door from the other side. She lifted her arms to rub her eyes, but the chains snapped tight.
That’s right. Sarah lowered her arms back to the bed.
The door creaked open.
Spencer stood on the other side of the doorway. He bent down, and leaned toward the outside wall. The tip of his boot nudged the bottom of the door, pushing it against the wall.
“Good morning,” he said in a calm and upbeat manner. He carried something in both hands, but Sarah couldn’t make it out. “I hope you were able to get some rest last night?”
Sarah held her tongue, trying to gain her bearings and wake up some. A wide yawn fled her mouth, causing her eyes to water. “I slept all right, all things considered.”
Spencer flicked the light on to the bedroom.
“Ah.” Sarah closed her eyes and looked away. She lifted her arm and laid back on the bed. Her fingers dug into both eyes.
“I have some clean clothes for you to change into,” Spencer said, setting them down on the edge of the mattress. “If you would like to take a shower and freshen up a bit before breakfast, you can. The hot water doesn’t last too long, but it’s better than nothing.”
Sarah sat up and blinked twice while looking in Spencer’s direction. The film on her eyes dissolved, allowing her to see better. “A shower does sound nice. It’s been two or three days since I’ve had one. Will I have to wear these restraints in there?”
Spencer grabbed the side of the blanket and pulled it from her. “No. You won’t have to.”
“How does it look?” she asked, rotating her body to the side some to get a better visual of the wound.
“It’s not soaking through the bandage as much as it was,” Spencer answered, leaning closer and inspecting the gauze. “After you get out of the shower, we can change the bandage.”
“I can change it when I’m done, if that’s okay?” Sarah looked at him.
Spencer nodded and stood up. “Sure. That will be fine. I’ll place what you need in the bathroom.”
“Thank you. I would appreciate that,” Sarah replied, smiling.
“For breakfast, I have some powdered eggs and pancakes I’m going to fix if that’s all right with you?”
Sarah tilted her head. “That would be good. I’m pretty hungry.”
“Excellent. When you’re finished eating, you can take some of the pain meds I have. They do wonders, and should help with any discomfort,” Spencer replied.
“Can you undo the restraints? I need to use the restroom. I’ve been holding it for a while now.” Sarah held her arm up.
Spencer glanced at the leather straps, then back to Sarah. He reached for her wrist and unbuckled the restraint. “I truly hope the way you’re acting now is genuine, and not a ploy or anything like that. I want to trust you, Sarah, but your constant betrayal and outbursts are making it hard to do so.”
The stiff, rigid strap slipped free of her sore wrists. The bone pulsated dully, and the bright-red skin stung.
“I know I’ve been difficult and challenging, given that you have saved my life on more than one occasion,” Sarah replied in a soft and endearing tone. “It’s been stressful, and I haven’t been handling matters as well as I should’ve, but I am coming around. It will just take time.”
Spencer made his way around the foot of the bed to the other side. He nodded while glancing at Sarah. “I know it has been hard, but if you stop fighting and actually give it a chance, you’ll see how great things can and will be for you with me.”
Sarah held her sore arm out to him.
Spencer removed the last restraint.
“Thank you for removing those.” Sarah massaged both wrists, cringing at each touch.
Spencer laid the restraint on the bed, then made his way back toward the other side. “Do you need any help off the bed?”
Sarah shook her head, then scooted to the edge of the mattress. “I think I’ve got it.”
The Creeper stepped back, giving her a bit of room to get off the bed.
Sarah took it slow and lowered her leg to the floor. The change in position made her clench her jaw. The muscles and bones throughout her body were stiff and added to the discomfort.
“Are you sure you don’t need any help?” Spencer asked, standing with his hands up and ready to assist.
“I’m good. Just stiff from lying still most of the night is all.” Sarah dropped her other leg to the floor. “Once I get up, shower, and eat, I imagine I’ll start to feel better.”
Spencer reached for the clothes on the side of the bed.
“I’ll get those.” Sarah pushed herself off the edge of the mattress.
“Okay.” Spencer walked past Sarah to the nightstand. He sifted through the first aid kit, cherry picking out more bandages and gauze.
Sarah grabbed the denim jeans, white socks, and sweater from the bed. She peered out into the hallway as Spencer walked past her with a handful of medical supplies cradled next to him.
“I’ll show you where the bathroom is,” he said, heading toward the door.
Sarah limped along behind him at a snail’s pace. The room spun a little. She leaned to one side, and lifted her arm to balance herself. A sickening feeling rooted inside her stomach.
A light flickered into existence from the opened door on the far wall a few paces down the hall. She caught a brief glimpse of Spencer’s body in the bathroom.
Sarah leaned against the wall like a crutch. Each step made her side throb, but it was bearable. She held the clothes to her chest, and peered at the living room ahead of her.
“All right. I got you fixed up,” Spencer said, exiting the bathroom. He turned and pointed inside. “I’ve got you a towel there on the toilet, and sat the gauze and bandages on the counter next to the sink.”
“Thanks.” Sarah limped to the bathroom. She peeked inside the tiny facility with a grimace on her face. There wasn’t an abundance of space to move about between the dingy off-white sink and shower. The toilet was wedged between the far wall and the side of the sink.
“It’s not much to look at, but it gets the job done,” Spencer said, moving out of her way.
Sarah stepped inside the bathroom, and set her clothes on the open space near the medical supplies. She turned around, and grabbed the edge of the door. “It will do just fine.”
She pushed the door closed.
Spencer slammed his hand against the faded, white-wood grain on the front, stopping it before it could shut all the way. “The door stays open at all times. Am I understood?”
Sarah kept her hand fixed to the side of the door. She wanted to tell the Creeper no and to go to hell, but that might set him off again. “Yes.”
“Good.” Spencer pointed at the shower. “Remember, there’s a time limit on how long the hot water lasts. I wouldn’t waste any time unless you want to take a cold shower.”
The Creeper removed his palm from the door, and walked down the hall, disappearing into the kitchen.
Sarah turned and faced the cramped bathro
om that smelt stale and old. She limped toward the shower, and pulled the curtain back.
The off-white tub had small cracks running through the bottom and along the sides. Mildew infiltrated the caulking between the edge of the tub and the white tiles that lined the wall.
A frown formed on Sarah’s face as she skimmed over the unkempt shower. She released the curtain and glanced at the frosted window on the wall.
Sarah gave another look to the hallway while walking to the window. She didn’t hear any footfalls from the Creeper or any other sounds to indicate he was close to the bathroom.
The window had a single latch in the middle. Sarah grabbed and tugged on the edge, but it wouldn’t budge.
Great.
She placed the heel of her palms under the lip at the base of the window and pushed up. It didn’t move or act as though it would.
Sarah tried to look through the frosted glass, but couldn’t make out much of anything outside the cabin. It all appeared blurred and hazy.
Music played from outside the bathroom. Sarah turned away from the window to the door. She listened close to the country music and Spencer singing aloud.
Christ.
Sarah huffed and rolled her eyes. She used the restroom while staring at the hallway, unable to take her eyes from the open door. The thought of undressing and being exposed with the Creeper close by made her skin crawl with disgust, but the chance at a warm shower was too good of an opportunity to pass up.
She grabbed the base of her shirt and pulled it over her head, watching and listening for Spencer. Sarah removed the rest of her clothes, but left the bandages on until she got out.
The coolness of the floor stabbed her feet. The air nipped at her exposed flesh, flooding her skin with goosebumps.
Sarah turned the knobs on the shower. The pipes rattled inside the wall for a second. Water sputtered from the faucet, then poured out.
Her fingers tested the temperature, finding the water to be cool at first, but it warmed up fast. She lifted the rounded lever, directing the flow out from the narrow showerhead above.
Sarah removed the towel and stepped inside the shower. The warmth of the water hitting her skin felt good, but also stung the many cuts and the gunshot wound she’d sustained over the last few days. She washed her body and hair in a blink, not wanting to risk Spencer coming back to gawk or sneak a peek at her. Sarah turned the water off, and grabbed the towel from the floor.
The cooler air beyond the curtain attacked her wet skin. She shivered. The rough fabric of the towel scratched at Sarah’s face–wiping away the beads of water that dripped from her. She remained in the shower with the curtain closed while drying herself off.
Spencer unbearable voice boomed through the cabin, overpowering the subtle country music. He sounded horrible and couldn’t carry a tune.
Sarah stuck her head through the small opening between the tile and curtain, peering at the hallway. She stepped out onto the floor with the towel wrapped around her chest and waist.
The shivering of her body wouldn’t let up. Her teeth chattered and hands trembled as she retrieved the undergarments from the top of the toilet seat. She slipped them on, then added the long-sleeve shirt.
A knock sounded from the hallway. “Are you decent?”
Sarah flinched, then grabbed the towel from the edge of the sink. She held it around her waist and turned to the hallway.
Spencer stood outside of the bathroom; a portion of his body visible.
“Um, getting there,” Sarah replied, her tone shaken.
“Don’t be much longer. The food will be ready soon,” Spencer said, keeping away from the open door.
“I won’t. I need to replace the bandages, and I’ll be out.”
“Sounds good,” Spencer replied, offering a thumbs up where she could see it. “Oh. Before I forget. Do you like black coffee? I don’t have any creamer, but I do have a bag of sugar.”
“Black coffee will be good.” Sarah wished he’d go away.
“Great. See you shortly.” Spencer headed back down the hallway to the kitchen.
Sarah breathed a sigh of relief, thankful that he didn’t try to peek in on her. She kept the towel around her waist and positioned the opening so she could tend to her wound. Her fingers peeled off the gauze, then the bandage. She tossed them into the sink and studied the wound.
The skin around the entry point was bruised and irritated. The tattered flesh had hints of blue and purple. She grabbed the tube of antibiotic cream and applied it to the pad of the bandage. She covered the wound, and repeated the process for the back.
The towel fell to the floor.
Sarah retrieved the pants and carefully pulled them up her legs. The jeans felt a bit tight, but worked just the same. She buttoned the front and tugged on the waistband that cinched around her waist.
The reflection of her worn and battered face caught her attention through the steam-covered mirror of the medicine cabinet fixed above the sink. She swiped her palm over the wet glass, wiping away the dampness.
Sarah examined the bags under both eyes and the cuts that resided on her face. It was the first time in days she had taken a good look at herself. She didn’t care much for the person staring back at her.
“I’ve got you a plate and coffee ready,” Spencer shouted from across the cabin. “Come and get it while it’s hot.”
Sarah placed both hands on the sink, shook her head, and sighed.
Suck it up, and do what’s needed. Play the part, she told herself. Wait for the right moment, then strike.
“Be right there,” Sarah answered in a raised voice, free of the disgust and repulsion she felt.
She gathered the used bandages from the sink, and tossed them to the small trash can between the toilet and the base of the sink. The tattered rags she had worn were taken back to the bedroom and thrown to the bed.
Sarah limped down the hallway to the living room with her arms folded across her chest. Light shone through the open blinds on the far wall, lighting up the cavernous space.
The smell of wood burning and cooked food permeated the air, and the rich scent of brewed coffee filled her nose. The crackle and pop of the smoldering wood sounded from the fireplace.
Spencer stepped out of the kitchen, wiping his hands off on a towel. A wide, joyous smile resided on his face. He looked her up and down. “Did you enjoy your shower?”
“I did. Thank you.” Damp strands of hair rested on the sides of her neck. She brushed them away with her hand.
He pointed at her side. “Were you able to get that changed out all right? How does it look?”
Sarah dipped her chin and looked at her side. “I managed to get it taken care of. It’s bruised, but it’ll be okay.”
“Good deal.” Spencer held out his arm toward the kitchen. “I’ve got your plate and coffee in here on the table. I hope you like everything.”
“It’ll be good, I imagine.”
Spencer escorted Sarah into the kitchen. He grabbed the back of the chair, positioned in front of the plate of food on the table, and pulled it out for her.
Sarah lumbered across the cold floor to the chair. The socks kept the full brunt of the chilliness at bay, but she could still feel it seep in through the fabric. She sat down.
Spencer scooted the chair forward. “I’ve got some salt and pepper if you need it for the eggs. I didn’t add any when making it. I also don’t have any butter, but there’s some syrup.”
“This will be good,” Sarah replied, looking over the cooked eggs and stack of pancakes.
“Oh.” Spencer held his hand up, then walked toward the cabinet next to the sink. He opened the door and sifted through the junk stuffed inside.
Sarah noticed the butcher’s block on the counter that sat off to the side of the cabinet he searched through. The handles of the knives filled her gaze. She needed to secure one.
“Here we go.” Spencer grabbed a bottle of pills from the second shelf and brought it back to the table. “Here�
��s the medicine I told you about. One should do it. It’s pretty strong stuff. I’ll grab you a glass of water as well.”
Sarah picked up the orange-tinted, unmarked bottle, and looked it over. The few small-white pills in the bottom of the container clattered against the sides. She glanced back to the knives while Spencer had his back to her.
“Here you go.” Spencer sat a half full glass of water on the table near the coffee. “It’s well water, so it may have a funny taste.”
“Thank you.” Sarah sat the pills down next to the water and stared at the food. Both hands rested on either side of the plate.
“Is there a problem with the eggs or pancakes?” Spencer asked, tossing the towel to the countertop next to the sink. “I’m not the greatest cook in the world, but I’m pretty good at whipping up eggs and flapjacks. Kind of hard to mess those up.”
Sarah looked up from the plate of hot food, then shook her head. “No. Nothing’s wrong. Still a bit out of it from sleeping is all.”
Spencer pointed at the blue coffee mug next to the plate. “Sounds like you need to get some coffee in you. It’s a dark roast blend. Should wake you up.”
“Yes. That may help.” Sarah grabbed the handle on the side of the mug and brought it to her mouth. She blew on the torrid brew before taking a small sip.
“This is nice. I’ve missed having breakfast with someone.” Spencer hauled his plate of food and coffee mug to the table, and placed it down across from her. He pulled his chair out and sat down.
Sarah stabbed at the eggs with the silver fork, shuffling the food about her plate. Her stomach growled, capturing the Creeper’s attention.
“Sounds like you better feed the beast before he gets unruly,” he said, smiling while dumping a thick stream of syrup over the pancakes. “That’s good protein there. It will help get your strength back. A power breakfast. I like having a glass of orange juice with mine, but I’m out at the moment. So, coffee it is.”
Small talk. Really?
Sarah fought the urge to take the fork, reach across the table, and jam it into the side of Spencer’s neck. She wasn’t close enough, for one, to be able to hit the mark without him reacting before she even reached him. Plus, she didn’t feel a hundred percent yet, and didn’t want to ruin her shot at escaping.
Survive The Fall | Book 5 | Fight Back Page 18