There were a few elective people who knew about my grandmother's small home in the middle of Michigan; Annabel, our parents, grandma's lawyer, the well hired lawn maintenance, and of course me. Seeing those flashlights shine through the window of my grandmother's room, hearing the heavy leather boots of Dawn's men contaminating the fresh cut grass with deep prints, and most likely heavily armed and ready to take me down when needed or want to.
We were like deer, stuck in the headlights, not knowing what to do as we felt trapped with no way out. However, there's always a way out, I was never the one to be in a place with only one visible exit- yet alone, an actual escape route just in case I come upon a situation like this. The first thing that took over my body was packing the guns and money, my hands swept the bed to put any item into the duffel bag. Blondie helped out by stuffing whatever small item was left, into every pocket on her body (money, small knives, the phones) any thing of use.
Out of instinct, like a wolf protecting their adopted cub from harm, I grabbed Blondie's hand. It was a little smaller than mine, smoother, and trembling like a life in winter- holding on tight and not wanting to let go. We were definitely surrounded, every window held a shine of light- I could already hear them giving a signal to kick down the door and raid this place to find the trembling leaf standing close behind me.
No time to ponder about anything other than escape... The basement, the small underground route to freedom or at least the checking point of it. I peeled my hand out of Blondie's, I oddly didn't want to let go. The ceiling shook rapidly, they were storming in, crashing my grandmother's antics, looking at my family portraits and memories.
Why did I come here?.. I wanted to be safe, get my mind straight with a wonderful shower and sleep; I only led the lion into the tiger's nest, they'll know everything of me with the photos. It is true when they say a picture holds a thousand words, along with a thousand secrets. I grabbed the old tool shelf, pulling on the dusty and creaking shelf to only pull it to the side to show the secret passage way to a tunnel. A human size hole close to the ground, a tunnel that made make a person think I'm a paranoid bitch; little did they know.
"Hurry," I hissed, a simply order that Blondie caught on immediately. She zipped up her jacket, hazel eyes glancing up to the chaos upstairs; I could hear her heart beating fast or is that just me. She practically dived into the hole, immediately disappearing in the darkness of the tunnel.
Before leaving my summer home behind, I took one last work of my grandfather's man den, mainly where he keeps his tools and work on building toy cars. I crawled into the hole as well and closed the thin door blocking the underground exit, coating the space with pure darkness.
I crawled to the end of the short tunnel, leaving the chaos behind, even though the urge to go back and rip each one of those stupid guard's heads off with my bare hands. The end of the small tunnel lead to a bigger one, a well lighted narrow path that would eventually lead us to an opened field near the high way. Actually, the path was used for a gun trade route for an old seller that got himself killed, I would move the guns for him with this path and give it to his distributor; I wasn't too proud to use my grandmother's house as a trade route, but I was desperate for money.
Blondie stood by the entrance, skin pale and eyes wide. "I'm sorry," those were the first woods that came out her mouth when I stretched my legs.
"No, it's my fault. We shouldn't have stayed long in the first place," How did they track us?... The phone call I made to Knuckles didn't give off enough of a signal to even pick up where we are, and the rest stop was forty miles out from the house. It had to be something or someone. I grabbed Blondie by the wrist, making her stop and hiss from my rough grip that proves to her that I was turning into a crazy woman. How can I not be crazy? What I have left of my grandmother is being torn down because I wanted to save this one girl. I should blame myself... I should beat myself up for sticking my neck out their for a princess who doesn't want to live with daddy anymore. Foolish me, I should of heaved Knuckles warning, but no- I was stubborn. "Do you have anything that your father gave you personally? A necklace? Ring..."
YOU ARE READING
Honey Trap
Action"Count backwards from ten." The words escaped my mouth, echoing off the walls until they hit the old man's ears. He flinched, I could smell the sweat pouring out his pores, along with the shit he just dumped in his slacks. "Ten," He finally spoke o...
