Countdown

vibe I was giving off was much more.. .friendly. I mean, the guy had been in prison for four years. He had to be a walking hard-on by now, right? I could work with that. A little estrogen thrown his way and he should be putty in my hands.

Dirty, murdering putty. With sexy eyes and a great smile. An unusual combination, to say the least.

He licked his lips and let out a long sigh. 'Sweetheart, you're good. If I didn't feel like a pile of shit and that my arm was about to fall off, you might have me, but pain does help one to focus. Your key. Throw it to me. Then I'll throw you mine.'

My fake smile slipped. 'And when I throw you my key how do I know you'll do the same in return?'

'You'll just have to trust me.'

'Give me one good reason why I should.'

He stared at me and laughed that short, staccato, humorless laugh. 'I'm coming up blank here.'

'Then I guess we're both shit out of luck.'

'I guess so.' A smile twisted his mouth. Then he closed his eyes and pain shadowed his face.

Dammit. I didn't want to feel sympathy for this guy. He was a murderer, just like the bastard who had killed my family. But if that blood was any indication, he was seriously wounded.

Then again, how did I know for sure? Maybe it was just a ruse. Maybe he was acting like he was hurt. After all, that camera did just appear out of nowhere. What did he say a minute ago? Showtime?

The camera whirred again as it changed direction; it turned to point at Rogan.

He pried his eyes open and looked up at it.

Then he gave it the finger.

Suddenly the lights began to flash on and off and an alarm sounded, so loud that I instinctively clamped my hands over my ears. From complete silence to a maddening noise in a split second.

'What's happening?' I yelled.

Rogan's gaze darted frantically around the room.

And then I heard something else. A metallic, computer-generated voice could be heard from speakers I couldn't see, but seemed to come from every direction.

'Sixty…' it announced. 'Fifty-nine …fifty-eight… fifty-seven …'

Rogan began struggling hard against his chain. 'Shit. Shit! Kira, throw me that key. Right now! Do it!'

'Why? What's happening?'

'It's the countdown!'

Okay, I figured out that much all by myself. If I wasn't so scared out of my mind I'd take the time to roll my eyes at him.

'Which means what?'

His face looked wild. Panicked. He craned his neck to look around the empty room as the lights flashed on and off, plunging us quickly back and forth into darkness and bright like a strobe light in a dance club. 'We've wasted too much time.'

'Fifty-two …fifty-one …fifty…'

'What happens when it gets to zero?'

He stared across the room at me. 'When it gets to zero we die. Do you understand? If you don't throw me that key, in less than fifty seconds we're both going to die!'

'What do you mean? Die? How do you know that?'

'There's no time to explain. I know you don't trust me, but please. Just do what I say so we can live.'

I stared at him. No. I couldn't do it. I couldn't trust him. If I threw him the key he'd unlock himself and leave me here. He was a murderer. He'd admitted it. He'd told me that there was no reason he could give me to trust him. And I didn't trust him. I didn't trust anyone but myself.

'Come on!' he yelled.

'Thirty-five … thirty-four… thirty-three…'

I stared blindly around at the metal-walled room. There had to be another way out of here. Who would want to kill us? It didn't make any damn sense. None of this made any damn sense.

Rogan swore so loud it hurt my ears over the alarm and countdown.

'Fine!' he yelled. 'Take it! You go first.'

He threw the key at me and it landed by my feet. Without thinking twice I grabbed it and worked it into my lock. The shackles popped open immediately.

Just as my bindings were unlocked, a door to my left swung open into more darkness. I eyed it with uncertainty, but just for a moment, before I took a step toward it.

'Wait.. ' Rogan held a hand out to me. 'What about our deal?'

I hesitated. He was a murderer. Mass murderer. I should leave him there, wherever there was. My family's dying screams echoed in my memory.

I pushed any sympathy I might have away and gave him a cold stare and said nothing.

'Nineteen … eighteen.. seventeen …'

Suddenly, swearing loudly, he slumped back against the wall and looked away from me, his chest heaving with each labored breath. He wasn't going to beg me to help him.

He gave up just like that?

He thought he was going to die-honestly, truly die when the countdown ended. I'd seen it in his eyes. You couldn't fake that. Whether it was true or not didn't matter. He believed it.

I swore under my breath and ran back to grab the key off the ground, then closed the distance between us. I sank to the ground and worked the key into his lock. It snapped open. I quickly got back up to my feet and turned away, glancing over my shoulder at him. He was struggling to get to his feet. It was the shoulder wound-it hurt him badly. He could barely walk.

'Ten … nine … eight…'

I turned back and grabbed him around his waist, practically pulling him through the room with me. He leaned heavily against me.

'Four… three.. two … one.'

We were through the door on the last count, and it slammed shut behind us with a deafening, heavy metallic grinding noise that shook the ground.

Rogan groaned and collapsed to his knees. I frowned and reached toward him to touch his shoulder. It was knotted with tension.

'You're seriously hurt.'

He blinked at me. 'You thought… thought I was faking in there?'

'I wasn't sure.'

'Thanks for the help.'

I was about to say, 'Anytime,' which would be the typical response to the statement, but I stopped myself. There was no 'anytime' with Rogan or any other murderer. This was it. We'd escaped the room and I was so out of there.

Only there was a little problem.

I still wasn't entirely sure where 'there' was.

We'd entered another room. This one didn't look much more interesting than the first one. Only this time I could see the outline of a door with no handle. I walked to it and kicked against it as hard as I could.

'Let me out of here!' I yelled as loud as I could. The sound of my voice echoed against the metal walls.

'That's not going to do anything,' Rogan said.

'We'll see about that.' I kicked the door again. And again. Until my leg hurt but the door didn't look any worse for wear. I hadn't even made a damn dent.

Finally, panting hard and sweating buckets, I stopped and turned around to Rogan. I thrust a finger in his direction. 'Start talking. I want to know everything you know.'

He blinked up at me, holding one hand against his wound. 'You came back for me.'

'Yeah. I did. And don't make me regret my decision.'

'I thought you'd leave me to die.'