He spent some time working at the bonds on his hands since it was clear that nothing short of using Lainey as a hostage was going to force Janna to release him, and that wasn’t an option. Arty had done a good job, but Clay was able to loosen the ropes a bit. He might have done more if he’d been ready to leave the camp—he’d discovered during the night that Janna had failed to take the folding combination tool from his pocket, one he’d carried so long that it was polished from wear. It had a handy item that he’d used to pick locks before. But he wasn’t ready to go just yet. Close contact with Janna last night had put a new light on his confinement. They had unfinished business between them that would be best settled here. Nonetheless, the forced inactivity was beginning to get to him. He paced up and down at the end of his cable for some minutes, then ran through a series of exercises to limber his stiff muscles. A strong need for a cup of hot coffee plagued him, but he could think of no way to get it short of shouting for Janna.
