Page 6 of Then and Now (The Edge of Retaliation 3)
“It’s big enough, and it’s going to cut this rope off my damn legs, that’s what.”
Good lord, he’s going to cut his rope with this?
“I’m not sure you’re going to have much success.”
“Do you want to die, Jo?”
His question takes me by surprise, and I whisper, “No.”
“Then you’ll try anything. Bring it here.”
I shuffle backward, my body aching, my fingers tight. I feel around in the dark for Tatum’s outstretched hands and place the metal into them. He’s quiet for a moment, no doubt feeling around the escape weapon we just secured. Then I hear him scratching it against the concrete ground, over and over.
“What are you doing?” I ask. “Digging us out?”
“I’m sharpening one edge of it, if you must know.”
I shut my mouth, because I’m being a cow. I know I am. I’m just scared. Deep down, I’m frightened as hell about what’s going to happen to us, and I’m trying my hardest not to think about it, but it’s really damn hard when we’re tied in a basement, waiting for them to come in and put a bullet between our eyes.
“Sorry,” I say softly. “I’m just—”
“Yeah,” Tatum cuts me off, “yeah I know.”
Of course he knows.
He’s here too.
He feels it too.
He’s scared for himself.
For me.
For his brother.
For all of us.
“ARE YOU GOING TO TELL me what it is you’re planning to do?”
Tatum doesn’t answer me. Maybe he’s asleep, but most likely he’s ignoring me.
“No,” he finally says. “No, because I don’t know yet.”
“Right,” I mutter.
“I need you to scoot as close as you can, this metal is sharp enough now. You’re going to saw the rope on my feet. Can’t do it myself, my arm is …”
Sore. Probably broken.
The fact that he’s been managing to sharpen that little piece of metal is enough, let alone with his hands being cuffed and his body being damaged. I’ve seen his arm, battered and bloody, and I know he’s in pain because he winces every now and then amidst the scraping along the concrete. Even Chase, at one point, told him to stop.
At least he’s still with us.
That’s something, right?
“Okay,” I say, not questioning him further. “Tell me what you want me to do.”
“Come as close as you can and reach out for my hands.”
I do as he asks, scooting as close to him as my bound feet will let me, there is only about a yard of rope attached to the wall, if that, so I can’t get too far. Then I lie on my belly and reach my hands out, thankful they decided not to cuff my hands, I guess they figured I wouldn’t be able to do much. Without this tiny piece of metal, I wouldn’t. I tried undoing the hard rope tied around me, but my fingers ended up bloody and broken before it moved. A knife is the only way that rope is coming off.
Or possibly days working on it.
Tatum’s cuffed hands find me, and a little feeling rushes through my body when his fingers, his broken fingers, purposefully graze over mine, just for a second, running across my smooth skin in an act of affection. My heart hammers against my ribcage and I close my eyes, so many mixed emotions travelling through my body. Emotions I just can’t even think about right now.
The cold metal drops into my hand, and Tatum’s voice, low and husky, says, “Feel around, find the thinnest piece of rope you can and start cutting. Once you start, don’t stop because you’ll lose the spot. It’ll hurt, Jo. It won’t be easy, but I need you to do this, yeah?”
“Yeah,” I whisper.
“Good girl,” he murmurs.
My heart makes a funny flutter again and I feel around the rope tying his feet together. It’s as thick as mine and tied so well that there is no way I can cut through the bundles of knots. I move to his ankle instead. If I can cut one free and then cut the rope leading to the wall, he’ll be able to move, even if there is still rope tied to his legs.
I find the thinnest part of the thick rope around his ankle, and I start sawing. My fingers burning within minutes as I use all my strength to cut through the rope that’s so thick, I doubt whether I’ll ever actually get through it. The thought makes me feel even more determined to keep going, even through the pain in my wrists and hands. I won’t let us down.
“Tell me something, Jo. Anything. It’ll help.”
I grit my teeth together, sawing with all my might, then I take a deep breath and say, “If there was anyone in the world I could be here with, I’m glad it’s you, Tatum.”
He goes silent for a minute, a long freaking minute, so long I wonder if I’ve said the wrong damn thing. Then, after a pause, he tells me, “What about your husband?”
