by Alexa Verde
So it looked like the only things she could use as a weapon were her own stilettos.
Well, she didn’t intend to stay here long enough for her attacker to come back. Maya left the bathroom and concentrated on the gigantic window.
She said a prayer again and pulled on the lever to open the window.
It gave. Yes! No alarm sounded, probably because it was being opened from inside and not outside. She pulled the window up and met with the night breeze. She looked down, and her head spun. It wasn’t a good time to remember she was afraid of heights. She was only on the second floor, but the windows were enormous. She licked her dry lips. She’d risk breaking her legs by jumping outside.
But who said she should jump?
Maya ran to the bed and pulled off the comforter. She did a mental fist pump at finding a full set of sheets. Most likely, locking her inside was a crime of opportunity. Or she wouldn’t have had the means to get out of here.
Adrenaline surging through her veins, she tied the sheets together and carried them to the window. She wrapped the end of the sheet around the windowsill and made as strong a knot as she could. She observed the knot skeptically. Would it hold? She certainly hoped so.
She tried to remember the layout of the senator’s mansion, glad she’d studied it before leaving for the charity event. The dancing room wasn’t directly under her, was it? She didn’t want the guests to see her dangling in the window. No, that room was something like a study. Besides, the dancing room windows had heavy curtains.
She winced from pain as she slid her feet into her shoes and hung the sheets outside. She groaned inwardly when the fabric didn’t reach the ground and straightened, trying to calm her wildly beating heart. Well, it would have to do. Her tall height should be useful for something other than her getting teased as a teen.
Maya took a deep breath for courage. Then she slid down the sheets. She hesitated when she reached the end. Should she look down to see how far the ground was? Better not, or she’d lose her resolve. She should be close to the ground now. She’d be fine.
After a moment’s hesitation, she forced herself to let the fabric go. She landed on her feet. She squatted and hit the ground with her palms, like she’d been taught to do. Then she straightened and stepped from the grass to the sidewalk, a wave of relief flooding her.
She’d escaped!
“Put your hands where I can see them!” a no-nonsense male voice commanded behind her back.
Uh-oh. Her stomach sank. She lifted her hands and tried to turn around. But the treacherous shoe slipped, and she landed on her back.
The voice became louder. “I said—”
“It’s okay. I know her,” another male voice, full of authority, interrupted.
Maya held still and turned her head to assess the new development, not daring to move much. From her uncomfortable location on the cold asphalt, she made out two male figures. The shorter and bulkier one was dressed in a security guard uniform. The taller one was dressed in a tuxedo.
Of course, the appearance of a security guard would’ve been much more useful when she’d been locked in a room than now.
“I saw her climbing out the window on the second floor,” the guard grumbled. “We should call the police.”
Ironic, considering that she was the police. But her current mission had nothing to do with her duties. Not to mention she was half a state away from her jurisdiction in a small town, Rios Azules, in south Texas. The fact that she’d sneaked into a charity event pretending to be her twin sister, January, didn’t help, either.
Maya struggled to get up.
“I’ll handle it.” Tuxedo Man’s baritone allowed no argument. “You may go.”
Still grumbling, Security Guy disappeared in the distance.
Tuxedo Man walked closer and gave her a hand. She accepted it, and he lifted her up.
Her heart rate increased when she recognized the senator’s son, Connor McNamara. She’d seen the senator’s family pictures in the local newspaper. Connor McNamara was even better-looking in person. Dark-blond hair, expressive hazel eyes, and ruggedly attractive features were combined with a confident posture and a muscular frame.
“Are you okay? Are you hurt?” McNamara’s voice was full of concern.
“I’ll live.” She glanced over herself, fearing her evening gown had fared worse than she had. But it wasn’t torn, and even the heels of her stilettos were not broken. She grimaced inwardly. Of course, nothing would destroy these shoes.