Sinclair gulped. Of course they’d have guns. That would make his escape more difficult. He could outrun a human, but not a bullet.
“The hostage says he needs to pee. I wouldn’t care if he peed all over himself, except I don’t want to smell it, so take him to the bathroom,” Hank instructed. “Don’t take your eyes off him for a second, no matter what he says, then put him back in the restraints when you’re done. And if you have to shoot him, shoot him in the knee. We need him alive,” Russel ordered.
“Got it,” Gutter replied and strode over to Sinclair.
Hank and Russel left.
“I ain’t got no patience for tricks,” Gutter said. “Be on your best behavior, and we won’t have no trouble.”
Sinclair nodded, fear tying his stomach in knots. He would be careful.
“I’m gonna untie you. Stay still till I say you can move. Move before I say, and I’ll shoot you.”
Sinclair nodded again, and Gutter untied each wrist. The pain was slow to come but intense as the blood rushed back into his tender, numb hands. He winced and tried to ride it out. The process was repeated as his legs and ankles were untied, and that was even worse. Sinclair blinked his eyes shut hard, willing away the agony.
“Okay. Get up.” Gutter backed away and was aiming the gun directly at Sinclair.
Sinclair tried. The stabbing pain became too much. “I’m sorry. I don’t think I can yet. Please don’t shoot me. I can’t feel my legs,” he begged. “I need a minute.”
“Fine. Tell me when you’re ready.” Gutter waited, leaving the gun pointed right at him.
Sinclair gulped back his fear. While the misery swept over him, he closed his eyes again. Tentatively, he wiggled his fingers and toes, and new jolting pain shot up his arms and legs. He hadn’t realized it would be this bad. He took a few long, deep breaths and forced himself to move again. Better. The awful sensation subsided slowly.
Sinclair gave himself another minute to be sure, opened his eyes, and faced Gutter. “I think I can get up now.” He waited for permission to move.
“Get up, then,” Gutter grunted.
Sinclair sat up in slow motion, swinging his feet over the edge of the table. He moved sluggishly, even though he felt okay. If he kept up this crawling pace, he’d have a better chance to get a look at his surroundings. He might only have this one chance to get his bearings.
He risked a glance to the side. A frightening assortment of medical instruments lay strewn on a nearby table. Seeing them made Sinclair’s stomach sink. It was cold, the air-conditioning set much lower than he was used to. He didn’t think humans preferred cooler temperatures, so why was it freezing? It was obvious none of these men were doctors.
Gutter ushered him out of the room and down a hall.
Sinclair took the opportunity to check the opposite direction for clues. At the end of the corridor was a shining red exit sign. Good to know. And no one guarded the door. Excellent.
Unfortunately, the restrooms were close, so he wouldn’t get much of the building’s layout. Past the bathroom, there was a set of double doors. Sinclair assumed they led to another wing or even a patient waiting area, but he couldn’t be sure. This didn’t look like any hospital or doctor’s office he’d ever seen.
Ahead of him, the hallway stretched on, more closed doors lining either side, and at the end was a large garage door. A truck dock? Ambulance bay, maybe? No way to know. A regular door stood next to it with another helpful exit sign.
Exits in either direction, neither of them guarded, and unlikely to be locked from the inside. Maybe there would be a way out of this after all. Hope stirred warmly in his chest.
Gutter shoved him into the bathroom and to a urinal. “Go.”
Sinclair didn’t relish the thought of being watched, but asking Gutter to turn around would be courting danger, so he sucked it up and unbuttoned his fly.
Thank god he actually had to pee, or he’d be in a world of hurt right now. As embarrassing as it was to urinate in front of a stranger, he managed. He tucked himself back into his pants and walked to the sink.
“No,” Gutter grunted. “Skip it. Go back to your room.”
Sinclair did as he was told, noting a fire extinguisher in a wall cabinet between the bathroom and his jail cell. That might be handy later. He wanted to know what was behind those double doors, but he couldn’t risk it. He didn’t think Gutter would fall for the “I’m just lost” excuse.
All in all, he’d gathered some useful and rather lucky information. If he could free himself from his restraints, he might be able to make a break for it. Sinclair climbed back onto the horrible table, and Gutter tied him up again. Being conscious this time, he flexed his wrists and ankles without Gutter catching on. This left him some slack in the bindings. He wasn’t sure if he’d be able to wriggle out or not. He’d have to wait until he was alone to find out.
But he wouldn’t be that lucky.
Apparently, Gutter was here to stay. He leaned against the wall, rifle ready but pointed toward the floor. He didn’t look like he wanted to chat. Sinclair stayed quiet. He’d have to bide his time for the right opportunity.
His thoughts quickly turned to Mitchel.
