Dana didn't allow herself to cry with self-pity for long. Tears wouldn't fix anything; only action might. Dana realized she probably couldn't get away, but that wouldn't stop her from trying. The guys might have left and locked her in, but doors weren't the only way out. She dove out of the bed, toward the chest of drawers she saw. She rummaged through the male clothing-smelling disturbingly of Nathan-and yanked out a T-shirt that hung down to her knees. Not that she cared.
She found some black briefs, but they threatened to slide right down her legs. She yanked them off and pitched them across the room. Screw it. A proper escape didn't require underwear. She headed to the window when she spotted a familiar duffel bag. They grabbed my stuff?
She unzipped and, sure enough, found her cloth
