Honor Bound(18)

At first she thought she was pushing the wrong way and tried drawing it toward her, but to no avail. She pushed on it with all her might. It didn't move. Panic welling inside her, she threw herself against it.

"Greywolf!" she cried frantically. "Greywolf!"

"What is it, Aislinn?"

"I can't get the door open."

"That's right."

Her mouth dropped open in dismay. He had locked her in!

"Open this door," she screamed, banging on it with her fists.

"I will as soon as I return."

"Return? Return? Where are you going? Don't you dare leave me locked up in here."

"I have to. I don't want you using that telephone you made such a point of not noticing. I'll let you out as soon as I get back."

"Where are you going?" she repeated, desperate over the thought of being cooped up in the rest room for an unspecified period of time.

"Back to the car. As soon as I get that busted water hose replaced, I'll be back to pick you up."

"The car? You're going back to the car? How will you get there?"

"I'll run."

"Run." She mouthed the word, but little sound came out. Then a thought occurred to her and she wanted to flaunt her cleverness in his face. "As soon as the owners of this dump reopen at four, they'll find me. I'll scream the place down."

"I'll be back well before four."

"You bastard. Let me out of here." She pushed against the door with her full weight behind her, and still it wouldn't give. "It's stifling. I'll die cooped up in here."

"You'll sweat, but you won't die. I suggest you rest."

"Go to hell!"

He made no reply. Her words echoed off the walls of the public rest room. Pressing her ear to the door, she listened but could hear nothing. "Greywolf?" she called tentatively. Then loudly, "Greywolf!"

Nothing. She was alone.

Slumping against the door, she covered her face with her hands and submitted to the luxury of tears again. A woman like herself wasn't prepared to cope with adversity of this sort. Life-and-death situations were beyond the realm of her sheltered environment. She had grown up in a gilded ghetto guarded by parents who wanted "the best" for their child.

She had never even attended a public school because of the "undesirable elements of society" she would encounter there. She hadn't been trained in survival tactics at the exclusive women's college she had attended. Situations like this made great movie scripts, but no one really believed that they actually happened. But this was happening—to her.

For the first time in her twenty-six years, Aislinn Andrews was confronted with real fear. It was tangible. She could breathe it. She could taste it.

What if Greywolf never came back for her? What guarantee did she have that the service station would reopen at four o'clock? That sign could have been posted on the door months ago and forgotten when the owners decided that keeping the business open wasn't worth their effort.

She could die of thirst.

No, the rest room had water. Not the purest, she was certain, but it was wet.

She could die of starvation.

Actually that would take a long time, and surely someone would drive into the place before then. She'd have to keep alert for the sound of a motor and start pounding on the door and shouting when she heard one.

She could die of suffocation.

But there was a window, a small one, located high on the wall just under the ceiling. It was open several inches. The air might be arid and hot, but there was plenty of it.

She could die of rage.

Now that was a very real possibility, Aislinn thought. How dare Greywolf desert her in this disgusting place? Calling him every vile name she could think of, she paced the small rest room.

Finally it was that very anger which fueled her mind and sparked her imagination. Even he had said she was resourceful. She could get out of this rest room if only she would put her mind to it. She knew it! But how? Again and again, she threw herself against the door, but it wouldn't budge. Whatever he had used to brace it shut wasn't going to give, and she was only wasting her strength trying to move it. Sweat ran down her body in steady streams. She could feel it trickling along her scalp beneath her hair, which was heavy and hot.

Despairing over her futility and weakness, she raised her eyes imploringly toward heaven. And therein lay the answer to her dilemma. The window! If she had some way to—

There was a metal barrel standing in one corner of the rest room. Apparently it had served as a trash can for as long as the rest room had been in use. Steeling herself against thinking of its stinking contents, she struggled to upend it. The thing was monstrously heavy and bulky, but she finally succeeded in turning it bottom side up and scooted it beneath the window.

By standing on the barrel, she was able to grasp the bottom of the windowsill. For several minutes she labored, pulling herself up with the strength of her arms alone, searching for nonexistent footholds in the concrete block walls, until finally she levered herself up over the sill. Poking her head through the open window, she hauled in great gulps of air and welcomed the wind against her face. She hung there for several minutes, giving her arms, which trembled with fatigue, a much-needed rest.

Then she used her shoulders to raise the window as high as it would go. The opening was narrow, but she thought that with some effort and good luck, she could get through it. Pulling one knee up and bracing it against the sill, she tried turning herself so she could go feet first out the window.