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Chapter 156: Carla

Tuesday. Warehouse, Beirut, Lebanon.

CARLA WAS OUT of ideas and shoes. She'd managed to hit the glass pane overhead three times before her shoes bounced out of range. Now she was barefoot, her arm hurt, and she was generally uncomfortable.

She turned toward the bed.

Her captor was passed out, dead to the world. He'd stirred once and glared at her with one eye, but after that she hadn't heard a peep from him.

He wasn't afraid she'd get lose.

That didn't make her feel better about her window plan. But she couldn't just sit here. What options did she have?

If she couldn't escape, then she had to be ready to do something else. But what?

A beeping sound broke the relative quiet of the warehouse. She turned, searching for the source.

Something-or someone-rattled the rolling gate.

Carla glanced over her shoulder at the passed out man, then the door. She wanted it to be Vaughn on the other side of the door, but the reality was she didn't know who might be out there.

She
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