He caught the knob of the door and pulled it closed.
Kasra sat with her legs folded and drew the box of food onto her lap. She opened it and smiled. Naan, lamb, and rice. No fork needed. Oh how her stomach rumbled at the aroma—even though the food was barely warm now. She did not care. It was wonderful, considering what had been served in the big room.
Once it was finished, she really could not wait to use the restroom. She banged on the door she could barely reach, thanks to the chains. And banged and banged.
“What in the blazes do you want?” Rage barked as he flung open the door.
It caught her off-guard, making her stumble back. Anger spiraled and threatened her control. But she wrestled it into submission. Fisted her hands. “I must use the restroom.”
He huffed and stalked to her.
She cried out and raised her hands, cowering.
He drew up straight, something feral in his expression as she steadied. “What do you think I am?”
“The man I fought in my apartment.”
He grabbed the bar on her hands, glowering at her. Unlocked it. “Let’s go. I’ve got things to do.” He escorted her to a bathroom.
She availed herself of the facilities, then took a few paper towels, wet them, and gave herself a semblance of a bath.
Thud-thud-thud!
“Hurry up.”
Kasra caught her reflection in the mirror and … stilled. The dark circles under her eyes. Sallow cheeks. The bruise and cut on her cheek from— “Taweel.”
Was he as angry as she imagined he would be? What had he thought when he discovered her missing? The girls gone. His income gone. He would not go quietly into poverty or disfavor with the boss.
He will kill me.
The sound of gunfire erupted through the house.
Taweel! He had found her!
Kasra moved away from the door, staring at it. Expecting him to come through it.
Bang-bang.
She jolted.
“Out! Now!”
At Rage’s barked commands, she whipped open the door. Found his back to her, weapon aimed down the hall. “Ready?” he asked, never looking back or taking his eyes off whatever threat he had perceived.
“Ye—” Her throat cracked. “Yes.”
“Hand on my belt,” he instructed.
Numb and shaky, she faltered. Caught a belt loop.
He set his over hers and squeezed. “Tight. Keep your head down.” And he was moving.
“Who is it?”
“Didn’t ask for ID.” With skill and stealth, he negotiated the darkened hall. Night had fallen, yes, but the darkness was from loss of electricity. Tremors slivered through her spine and arms as she kept a death grip on his canvas belt.
They moved quickly down the passage that led to the front. He scurried up to a corner. His stop was so sudden, she nearly collided with him. “Hold.”
