Page 98 of No More Lies
Diane reached for the pliers and tried them on the lever. It didn’t budge. She took the hammer. About to swing at the lever, she stopped. The noise.
“One of you go to the door. Listen for anyone coming.”
Natasha went up the stairs. “Can’t hear anything.”
Diane swung the hammer at the lever. Once, twice, three times. On the fourth swing, the lever moved. At the same time, the frame cracked. But when she tried to open the window again, she had no luck. Damn! Frustrated, she swung the hammer at the glass. It shattered. She jumped and fell back on the sofa.
“Oh, my god, are you alright?” Melanie asked helping her get up.
“Yes. I didn’t mean to do that. They must have heard it.” Heart pounding, she struggled upright. Now there was a way out, but she had a feeling Volkov or Oleg would be coming down those stairs any minute.
“Screw it. I’m going to try and get out. I have to find Megan.”
Ignoring Melanie’s and Natasha’s pleas to be careful, she climbed back on the sofa and hauled herself up. Though broken glass cut into her skin, she grabbed the window frame and pushed her head and shoulders through the gap. It was tight. As she inched her way through, shards pierced her chest and arms, but the pain barely registered. Her only focus was to get out and find Megan.
She heard shouting behind her. “They're coming!”
Diane kept inching forward. She had no idea what she was going to do if she got to the other side. Was there another house close by? Would she be able to look in other windows to find Megan? Would Oleg be waiting for her? Her arms and shoulders were through now and just as she was about to crawl forward, she heard screams and strong hands grabbed hold of her calves. Ruthlessly, she was dragged back through the window. Pain shot through her arms as they got caught awkwardly in the small space. A burning sensation spread across her chest.
Then she was on the floor of the basement staring up at Oleg and Volkov.
“You think you can get away from me, bitch?” Volkov spat then leaned down and hauled her up by her arm. A pain like she’d never experienced before surged through her arm up to her shoulder and she screamed.
“You’re fortunate I need you alive, but if you try anything else, I will kill Ms. Costas. Do I make myself clear?”
She nodded, in too much pain to speak.
Volkov turned to Oleg, said something she couldn't hear, before he walked out of the basement without looking back.
Oleg faced them and pulled out a gun. Natasha gasped; Melanie grabbed hold of her hand in support.
“All of you. With me.”
Diane struggled to walk. She glanced down to see her sweatshirt was covered in blood. The glass had ripped through the fabric and cut into her skin. Her hands were bleeding. The pain in her arm was making her feel sick.
Melanie came to her aid, putting an arm around her waist. She shuffled forward. Oleg led them upstairs to one of the bedrooms. Inside, he checked the window.
“You stay here. We leave in fifteen minutes.” Oleg walked from the room, but one of the other men stepped inside and sat down on the chair by the door, resting his gun on his lap.
“I’m sorry,” Diane said to the other women. She had put them in danger, and she felt terrible.
“Shh. You almost made it,” Melanie said in barely more than whisper. “And who knows? Maybe somebody saw you.” She motioned. “Come and sit on the bed and let me take a look at those cuts.”
Diane sat down, wincing anytime her arm touched anything.
“I think you may have dislocated your arm,” Melanie said. “I’m not a doctor, but I don’t think it’s meant to hang the way it is.”
“It hurts like hell.”
She bit her lip while Melanie examined her hands and gently lifted her sweatshirt. “You have some really deep cuts which are bleeding pretty bad.” She turned to face the man at the door. “Diane needs medical attention.”
The man shrugged. “Not my problem.”
“It’s OK. I’ll be fine.” Diane grimaced.
Melanie moved toward an open door on the far wall that appeared to lead to the ensuite bathroom. The man raised his gun and stood.
“Get back here.”