Shea looked behind and saw a burly man at theend of her row turn and beckon for others to follow. Crap.
She zigzagged between the tents, dartingacross another road and down another long alley.
Several men were hunting her now. It wouldn’tbe long until they cornered her. All it would take was for the mento come at her from several directions and then she’d be caught.Again.
With her coloring and these clothes, she wastoo noticeable.
The manacles on her wrists probably didn’thelp her blend in either.
Night wasn’t far off, but there was stillplenty of fading light. If she could only last until nightfall, shemight have a chance.
The next road she happened upon was mostlyempty in both directions. Nobody noticed as she slipped from shadowto shadow.
She needed a hiding place until the peopledchasing her passed. Maybe take that time to come up with analternate plan. She cast a desperate look around, noticing acampfire with several blacksmith tools and a small tent beside it.It appeared empty.
Not pausing to think and praying like hellher luck would hold, she darted beneath the flaps and pressed herback to the side of the entrance. Seconds later, several menspilled out of a break in the tents. She could hear them runningand imagined them peering down the gaps between the tents. She heldher breath and prayed they didn’t think to start checking in thetents.
“Do you see her?”
“No.”
“Where’d she go?”
“She’ll be in the wind if you lot don’t stopflapping your jaws,” a man snapped. “You and you, go that way. You,head down this road before heading into the tents. You three goback the way we came, and see if she doubled back and is hiding.You, head to the outer perimeter and let the guards know to be onthe lookout for a woman in her mid-twenties with light brown hair.They’re to detain but not hurt her.”
His men departed. Shea felt it was safe topeer out. Her stomach clenched at the sight of a man standing withhis back to her.
His shoulders shook as a chuckle escaped.“Woman’s a bloody escape artist.”
He ambled off in the direction of his men,leaving Shea to sag against the tent in relief. Thank goodness theyhadn’t thought to check the tents nearby. She doubted it’d be longbefore they realized there’d been too much time between sightingsand back track.
That meant it was time to rid herself ofthese manacles. She studied her wrists. This wasn’t going to beeasy.
Dropping her hands, Shea looked around hertemporary shelter. This tent was much smaller than the one Damonhad chained her to. There were a few rugs spread across the ground,but these were threadbare and showed the wear and tear of usage.Not new and luxurious like the ones covering Fallon’s floor. Thetent’s occupant had set up a bench in the corner. Tools were strewnacross it and in the short buckets next to it.
Maybe the mess contained a tool that mighthelp her get these things off.
She picked up a set of pliers. Those probablywouldn’t work. Back to the bench they went.
Oh! Maybe that would work. She picked up ahandsaw. Maybe.
She straddled the bench. She contorted herwrists, trying several variations before giving up. It wasimpossible to get the right angle.
Maybe the chain binding her wrists togethercould be sawed through.
She tried holding the chain in place for thesaw but every time she moved her arm forward or back in the sawingmotion, the chain would move, making it impossible to start acut.
“This is useless,” she hissed flinging thetool down.
Her eyes smarted, and she pressed her palmsto them. No. No. She wouldn’t succumb to frustration. To do someant giving up. Shea did not give up. Especially when this closeto freedom.
She stood and walked over to the saw she’dthrown across the tent. So far it was the most useful of the toolsshe’d found. She grimaced at the black oily goop on the handle. Ithad landed next to a bucket of the sludgy substance. Beginning towipe the black stuff on her hands off, she paused and rolled thegoop between her fingers. It was slippery. Perhaps slippery enoughto grease her hands so they’d slip through the manacles? It wasworth a try at least.
She set the handsaw down and held her handsover the bucket, grimacing. This stuff looked disgusting.
Holding her breath, she sank into the sludgeup to mid arm, shuddering at the cool, slimy feel of it against herskin. When her arms were sufficiently coated, she took them out.The substance had turned them nearly black. She shook off a bit ofthe excess liquid.
That should do it.
