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Easy.

Trying to come up with an escape plan from it?

Less easy.

Mentally mapping the best place to alternatively hide or call for help?

Least easy.

Especially considering almost everything in the building is shut down for the summer.

We’re talking phones and computers and fucking air conditioning, which is why I’m sweating to death like I’m reading smut in the middle of catholic baptism ceremony.

The custodial staff have cellphones and radios for the days they do come in, so they’re not totally stranded in worst case scenarios, but I don’t know where they are.

I don’t know when they come in.

And I damn sure don’t know if they can be trusted.

Hell, can anyone?

Is everyone part of Dean Berkley’s Bond villain scheme?!

Who do I trust?

I feel like security is in on it, hence why there haven’t been alerts issued or alarms going off.

Oh!

Oh!

Alarms!

The fire alarm!

I could pull the fire alarm and that would bring the fire department here for sure!

Legally, those always have to be on and are required to immediately alert them for assistance, which aiding a wrongfully kidnapped woman would fall into the category of.

Plus, I think someone or someones in the FD work for or with the club?

Or was that the PD?

Both?

I’m not sure.

Again, we haven’t talked much about that part of H’s life.

He swore we would and could now that we’re official; although, he did make sure to mention some things would always be off-limits because I’m not an actual patched member, something women can’t be because it’s truly a boys only club in that aspect.

Outdated notion to me yet one he insists is built on chivalry.

The thought of him out there doing whatever it takes to get to me aids in the certifying of my escape end goal.

I will do what I have to in order to get the outside world a signal.

Pacing outside the door directly across from me begins again indicating he’s still there.