CHAPTER 24
I change into a pair of yoga pants and a tank top, nausea tugging at me. We have to execute this perfectly. We have to outwit an entire team of hired guns and somehow escape into the wilderness and make it to freaking Canada without anyone on either side seeing us.
Easy peasy, right?
The kitchen is empty when I walk back out to the living area, save the hog-tied P.I. He lies on the floor in the middle of the living room in front of the single Lay-Z-Boy chair, eyes and mouth both duct-taped, his ears covered. He whines.
My hackles rise. He tried to kill me. Not with a bullet, too much of a nut sack for that, but he led a murderer right to me.
I stare at the P.I. as I shovel cold sausages into my mouth. Though I had no appetite when the food was warm, it’s prudent to gain wha
