Читать книгу The A-List Collection - Victoria Fox - Страница 67

It was still dark.

Stealth-quiet, Lana opened the bathroom window, just big enough to fold her body through, and dragged an overnight bag after her. On her feet only the soft pad of socks. Above, the sky blushed plum with the arrival of dawn.

She shimmied along the narrow ledge that ran across the back fence, crouching beneath the radar of Cole’s security cameras–after years living with them she knew exactly their sight lines and trigger points. She wasn’t getting caught out again.

Cole’s perimeter was alarmed, activated at contact. She held her breath and threw her bag over, waiting for the soft thump of its impact, praying it wouldn’t arouse the night watch.

It didn’t. For a while she hovered on the precipice, not daring the make the next move. Beyond the fence was an oak, just within reach if she pushed off her toes and hit it exactly right. Feeling for its limbs, grasping its tough bark, she made the leap. As she embraced the coarse wood, she waited again for the alarm to sound, the dogs to snarl.

Silence.

For seconds she stayed clinging to its trunk, before catching her breath and carefully dropping to the ground. A spray of water caught her off guard, a lawn sprinkler, and she bit hard to stop herself crying out. Realising what it was, she unzipped her bag, slid on her sneakers and ran, half laughing, half stumbling, away from the grounds.

By the time Cole realised she was gone she’d already be on a plane, halfway across the Nevada desert.