Code Name: Genesis (Jameson Force Security #1)(60)

I snap wide awake, blinking into the darkness. The last of the sedative has worn away, and my mind is finally clear. Without any struggle to remember, I know I am tied to a chair in a shipping container and I’m being held at the whim of a madman.

I also know my dream just gave me the answer to what should have been my first cognizant question upon waking up. “What the hell do I do now?”

I have to figure out how to get out of here.

The first and obviously the most pressing issue is the fact I’m tied to a chair. When the man had come into the container and turned on the light, I hadn’t bothered to try to see the bonds around my ankles. It feels like rope, and there’s no sense in struggling to figure it out now since it’s too dark to see anything. But my ankles can wait. I need to free my hands, so I twist my wrists and feel about with my fingertips. I’m able to touch what feels like silken rope, wrapped many times around me in several knots. There’s no way I can maneuver my hands so my fingers can work at the knots. It’s just too tight.

My mind races, trying to remember if I ever learned anything from watching MacGyver about how to help me out of this situation. Without a paper clip, it seems hopeless.

I’m just going to have to use brute strength and determination to get out of my restraints.

Twisting, turning, and pulling, I use the muscles in my arms to try to wrench my wrists apart for some distance to stretch my bindings. The ropes are incredibly tight, but unless it’s my imagination, I feel like there might be some give. I envision becoming free, opening the crate, and running, running, running. My end goal is to reach somewhere safe where I can call Kynan and the police. At which point, they can arrest this bastard and free me from this nightmare.

It’s good motivation.

I work harder, sawing my hands back and forth as much as I can under the restraints. Before long, my skin is burning. The burn turns to true pain as I pull, struggle, and groan and grunt, tears pricking my eyes.

“Come on, you motherfucking bastard,” I scream. The words are released into the darkness, but they give me added strength. I start to really move my wrists under the bonds. Thankfully, the pain eventually gives way to a bit of numbness, which lets me keep working hard at my task.

Then I feel wetness.

What is that? Water?

No. Blood.

I’m bleeding.

Self-preservation kicks in. I consider stopping. Can I bleed to death?

Of course not, Joslyn. That’s ridiculous. Keep working.

My chest heaves with the effort. Tears flow freely down my face, a mixture of pain and frustration. I viciously twist and turn my wrists, this way and that, until there is a distinct popping sound. For a moment, I think I dislocated something. When there is no rush of pain to accompany it, I realize the ropes have loosened significantly. I think one of the loops may have slipped over a knot creating some space.

The immediate appearance of slack in my restraints rejuvenates me, and I work even more furiously. I’m breathing so hard I’m afraid I’m going to hyperventilate, so I try to center myself. “Come on you bastard. Loosen up.”

Suddenly, one wrist comes completely free. When I pull my arm up, a sharp stab of pain hits me in that shoulder, rushing up the side of my neck. I breathe through it, telling myself it’s nothing more than the strange position my arms have been locked in for God knows how long.

Taking several deep breaths, I push past the hurt, moving my other wrist out of the loosened ropes. Much more slowly, I pull my arm forward, wincing through the ache in that shoulder. Rolling my head and shoulders to loosen them, I take a few more breaths.

“Okay, Joslyn. You can do this.”

Bending forward and leaning to the right, I work on my right ankle restraints. My fingers are slippery from the blood that coats them, and I immediately become frustrated with how tight the knots are. I break several nails trying to loosen them, and a string of curses fly out of my mouth.

But I don’t give up. Kynan would not want me to give up.

Time has no concept. It could’ve taken me thirty seconds or thirty minutes, but I eventually manage to pull the last rope off my ankles. I immediately lurch up from the chair, then regret it as a wave of dizziness hits me. My stomach rolls, and I sink back onto the wooden seat. I focus on the bright beam of horizontal light that represents the door out of my prison.

Taking a deep breath, I rise slowly once more. I take a tentative step, then another, with my arms stretched in front of me until I reach the door. Remembering the switch is no more than a foot off from the hinge, I let my fingers feel around the cold metal wall until I find it. When the bulb illuminates, I take a second to issue a prayer of thanks. Then I pivot and scan the storage container, taking in everything I could not see the first time the man was here.

The hair on the nape of my neck rises at what I see behind the chair I was tied to.

A hospital bed pushed flush against the back wall, which is accompanied by stirrups that stand out lewdly from the bottom corners. Next to it is a surgical tray on a rolling cart. Upon the tray is a slew of metal implements—scalpels, ice picks, and pliers are only the beginning. On the wall are two wooden shelves containing a variety of sex toys, whips, and chains.

A full-body shudder overtakes me as the magnitude of what this man intends to do to me hits. It’s a torture I had not ever dared to imagine. A wave of sheer and utter panic to escape slices through me. I turn and bolt for the door, relieved to see the lock is a two-sided bar that just lifts up. It’s hinged through a hole in the door, meaning when I lift it from this side, it will mimic a bar on the outside. I have no clue if it’s locked, but I reach out to give it a go.