Read Online Unfiltered & Unsaved by Payge Galvin, Bridgette Luna - Free Book Online Page B

up on the casement, and backed out until she was dangling, arms fully extended, and her toes touched the first jutting block. She let go with her right hand, found another block to brace herself, and then slid her weight down to the next block. It was terrifying, and she didn’t dare look down. The cooling desert air whipped through her loose blonde hair, and above her she heard a banging that meant the bald man—Skinner—was trying to get into the room. Brittany must have (sensibly) ratted her out.
    Hope moved faster. She knew the door wouldn’t hold; the dorms weren’t exactly top quality construction in the first place. Halfway down she lost her grip on one of the blocks, flailed, and had to jump for the next one out of control. She landed with such force that she tore skin off her palms, but she didn’t fall. Quite. Her injured wrist twinged, but it held up. Bruised, not sprained, just as Elijah had said.
    The block pattern ended about six feet from the ground. She jumped the last distance, and looked up at her darkened window. No one yet. She ran for the corner, and heard a sharp, frustrated yell echoing down just as she rounded it.
    He’d made it into the room, and to the window. He’d seen her.
    Hope put on a burst of speed and made for the corner of the parking lot. It was thick with cars, and she headed for the old Chevrolet her father had given her. The keys were buried in the pocket of her backpack, but she tried not to slow down as she ran for it, and she managed to drag the ring out just as she skidded to a stop by the car door. She didn’t drive it much—she preferred her bike—but it was gassed up and ready to go. The backpack caught on the door when she tried to throw it inside, and she lost precious seconds wrestling it; she looked back, and saw that Skinner had come out of the dorm and was frighteningly close now, and running at her full tilt with his shaved head down like a battering ram.
    God, please help me … and it felt as if He did. A miraculous kind of stillness came over her, a clarity that she’d never felt before.
    She tore the strap loose with a vicious tug, shoved the bag into the passenger seat, and got the door slammed and locked just before Skinner hit it with a bang that rocked the entire car on its tires and probably left a dent in the metal. Hope yelped in surprise and fear, but her mind was suddenly very clear, very focused. Get the key in the ignition. Done, first try, no hesitation. Turn the key. The engine caught with a roar. Put it in reverse. Skinner was battering the window with enough force to threaten the safety glass. She ignored that and slid the lever into place. Hit the gas.
    Skinner yelled as her car slid smoothly out of the parking space, and for a second she thought she might have run over his foot ( good! ) but he was only shouting in frustration. He picked up something off the pavement nearby and threw it major-league hard at her window, but it was only an empty can of Red Bull, and it clattered and slid off without any effect.
    Hope put the car into gear, hit the gas, and drove away.
    Fast.
    Thank you, Lord.
    Her phone was ringing before she got out of the parking lot. She fumbled it out one-handed. “Don’t you dare—”
    “Hope?” It wasn’t Mr. Solomon. It was Elijah. He sounded tense and out of breath. “Hope, you have to get out of there. Right now.”
    “E.J.? Are you okay?”
    “Forget me. Skinner’s coming for you and you have to get out of there. I’m so sorry. Solomon got the address from the magazine subscription form you filled out.”
    “You told him about the money.”
    He was silent. Well, not really silent, because she could hear his breath coming fast and in short, urgent gasps, as if he’d been running hard and for a long time—or he was in real pain. “I’m sorry,” he finally said. “I had to tell him something. He’s got a sixth sense about these things.”
    “You didn’t have to tell him that !”
    “Hope, I tried to