Read Online Sins of the Father by Jamie Canosa - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Jamie Canosa
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wasn’t safe. I’d been putting my trust in all the wrong people my whole life. It was time to stop playing the damsel in distress, waiting around to be rescued, and do a little rescuing of my own.
The steady pinging of rain against the roof was the perfect cover. The sounds of water gushing over the sides and splattering to the ground below hid every creak and groan the cot made as I carefully rolled over. The constant rumble of thunder was punctuated by the occasional deafening crack. How anyone managed to sleep through it was beyond me, but there he was. Sawyer, stretched out beside me on his back, one hand dangling over the head of the cot. Frank snored loudly in the corner. I’d watched him carefully for the past two hours and he hadn’t moved a muscle.
A bitter wind howled between the gaps in the walls, sprouting goosebumps up and down my arms. I didn’t know how Sawyer wasn’t freezing with the blanket pushed down around his knees, exposing a strip of hard, tanned flesh along his waistline. And the pocket of his shorts where I’d seen him tuck the key to my cuffs away earlier.
Adrenaline felt like a million ants running over my skin as I stretched my arm across his body. Sawyer’s breaths came in steady huffs. Inhale-hold-huff. Each hitch sent my blood pressure skyrocketing and every huff brought it crashing back down. I was a shaky mess by the time my fingers brushed the opening to his pocket.
But that was as far as I could reach. Dammit .
Barely breathing, I shifted the cuff attached to the cot over, watching his face closely for any sign that he was waking. My gaze traveled over his lips slack with sleep, his golden lashes fanned against his cheeks, and I found myself momentarily hypnotized by how innocent he managed to look in sleep.
He didn’t move. His chest rose and fell in a slow, steady rhythm.
I bit my lip as I strained against the cuff digging into my wrist. The fingers of my free hand slipped inside the mesh pocket of Sawyer’s shorts and stretched as far as they were able. His breath hitched and I froze solid. Then it puffed against the side of my face. The very tips of my fingers brushed against cool metal. So close. Just . . . a . . . little . . .
I shifted my hips closer and ignored the warmth oozing from my restrained wrist. My fingers wrapped around the small key and I eased it oh so slowly from his pocket, having to clamp down on the urge to giggle when it fit into the cuff and I heard the tiny click before the shackle fell away.
I was free .
Stinging pain flared from the tattered skin braceleting my wrist. I pushed it aside. It was bleeding, but it didn’t look bad and I could seek medical attention if I needed it after I got the hell out of here. A flash of lightening illuminated the stall and I caught a glimpse of Frank’s large form still curled up in his bed of hay. He, too, looked far less threatening in sleep. Beneath the anger and the muscles, it was easy to forget that he wasn’t much older than me. But I couldn’t let myself be deceived. He was dangerous.
Rolling, I eased my weight evenly toward the edge of the cot, catching myself on hands and knees when I went over the edge. Despite every last one of my survival instincts tell me to flee as far and as fast as possible, I forced myself to still. If either of them woke before I got out of the stall it wouldn’t matter how fast I ran. When neither moved, I climbed to my feet and tip-toed toward the stall door.
If there was one thing I knew for sure it was that those hinges hadn’t been oiled in years. The damn thing squealed like a stuck pig every time it opened or closed. Splinters dug into my palms as I hoisted myself up and swung my leg over the top.
When I landed on the other side, there was no stopping me. My need to escape took over and I ran.
Rain pelted my face and arms, stinging every square inch of bare skin and soaking me to the bone within seconds of stepping outside. The crack of thunder overhead
The steady pinging of rain against the roof was the perfect cover. The sounds of water gushing over the sides and splattering to the ground below hid every creak and groan the cot made as I carefully rolled over. The constant rumble of thunder was punctuated by the occasional deafening crack. How anyone managed to sleep through it was beyond me, but there he was. Sawyer, stretched out beside me on his back, one hand dangling over the head of the cot. Frank snored loudly in the corner. I’d watched him carefully for the past two hours and he hadn’t moved a muscle.
A bitter wind howled between the gaps in the walls, sprouting goosebumps up and down my arms. I didn’t know how Sawyer wasn’t freezing with the blanket pushed down around his knees, exposing a strip of hard, tanned flesh along his waistline. And the pocket of his shorts where I’d seen him tuck the key to my cuffs away earlier.
Adrenaline felt like a million ants running over my skin as I stretched my arm across his body. Sawyer’s breaths came in steady huffs. Inhale-hold-huff. Each hitch sent my blood pressure skyrocketing and every huff brought it crashing back down. I was a shaky mess by the time my fingers brushed the opening to his pocket.
But that was as far as I could reach. Dammit .
Barely breathing, I shifted the cuff attached to the cot over, watching his face closely for any sign that he was waking. My gaze traveled over his lips slack with sleep, his golden lashes fanned against his cheeks, and I found myself momentarily hypnotized by how innocent he managed to look in sleep.
He didn’t move. His chest rose and fell in a slow, steady rhythm.
I bit my lip as I strained against the cuff digging into my wrist. The fingers of my free hand slipped inside the mesh pocket of Sawyer’s shorts and stretched as far as they were able. His breath hitched and I froze solid. Then it puffed against the side of my face. The very tips of my fingers brushed against cool metal. So close. Just . . . a . . . little . . .
I shifted my hips closer and ignored the warmth oozing from my restrained wrist. My fingers wrapped around the small key and I eased it oh so slowly from his pocket, having to clamp down on the urge to giggle when it fit into the cuff and I heard the tiny click before the shackle fell away.
I was free .
Stinging pain flared from the tattered skin braceleting my wrist. I pushed it aside. It was bleeding, but it didn’t look bad and I could seek medical attention if I needed it after I got the hell out of here. A flash of lightening illuminated the stall and I caught a glimpse of Frank’s large form still curled up in his bed of hay. He, too, looked far less threatening in sleep. Beneath the anger and the muscles, it was easy to forget that he wasn’t much older than me. But I couldn’t let myself be deceived. He was dangerous.
Rolling, I eased my weight evenly toward the edge of the cot, catching myself on hands and knees when I went over the edge. Despite every last one of my survival instincts tell me to flee as far and as fast as possible, I forced myself to still. If either of them woke before I got out of the stall it wouldn’t matter how fast I ran. When neither moved, I climbed to my feet and tip-toed toward the stall door.
If there was one thing I knew for sure it was that those hinges hadn’t been oiled in years. The damn thing squealed like a stuck pig every time it opened or closed. Splinters dug into my palms as I hoisted myself up and swung my leg over the top.
When I landed on the other side, there was no stopping me. My need to escape took over and I ran.
Rain pelted my face and arms, stinging every square inch of bare skin and soaking me to the bone within seconds of stepping outside. The crack of thunder overhead
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