“You have three minutes,” Jonathan said. Then he turned around and left the room.
Rogan swore again under his breath. “I didn’t see any cameras. I honestly thought we were alone. So stupid of me.”
“It’s okay. It’s done. Let’s just deal with what happens next. Time’s ticking.”
“Isn’t it always?”
I chewed my bottom lip and looked away as he swung his frame out of the bed and grabbed the new clothing. He pulled on a pair of black pants and slid a black shirt over his head. The clothes fit tightly against his body, almost like a costume. He sat on the edge of the bed and laced up the boots.
I eyed him. “You look like a superhero.”
“If you say so.” He met my eyes, his gaze heating as he looked at me wrapped in the bed sheet, then he leaned over to snatch the rest of the clothes off the f loor. He handed them to me.
I turned the pieces over in my hand. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“You’ll look like a superhero, too.”
As if things couldn’t get worse. “Yeah, a slutty sixteenyear-old superhero. Just what the Subscribers seem to want. Do they know what total perverts they are?”
“I don’t think they care.”
My costume consisted of a pair of skimpy panties. A skimpier bra. A short pleated skirt that barely covered my butt. A tight, long-sleeved shirt, low cut in the front. Thigh-high stockings, and knee-high combat boots.
All black.
Since my other choice of outfit at the moment seemed to be bed sheets, I slowly put on the clothes while Rogan turned his back to give me privacy.
Still, the red light didn’t stop blinking.
Rogan eyed me when I was done. “You look…wow. Really hot.”
I glared at him. “This is no time for jokes.”
Despite everything, he was fighting to keep a grin off his face. “You’d be beautiful no matter what those bastards made you wear.”
He slid his arm around my waist and pulled me closer.
“I won’t leave you,” he whispered into my ear. “If you don’t want me to, I won’t leave you. Okay?”
My throat thickened. “Okay.”
The door opened again and Jonathan appeared. “Rogan, we’re going to have you wait for a bit. Kira, I’m going to need you to come with me. Somebody wants to meet you.”
I didn’t take one step away from Rogan. “Not really in the mood to meet anybody right now.”
“That’s too bad. Mr. Ellis, however, doesn’t take audience with just anyone. Consider it a great privilege afforded to few others.”
Rogan grabbed my hand. “I’m coming with her.”
“No,” Jonathan said, and he had his handheld device out, “you’re not.”
He pressed the touch screen, and Rogan roared in pain before he dropped to the f loor.
I crouched down next to him to make sure he was still breathing before I glared up at Jonathan. “I can’t believe I ever trusted you.”
His face was expressionless. “If I told you I was truly sorry for all of this, would you believe me?”
“No.”
“Then it’s pointless for me to say anything at all. Come with me. Don’t put up a fight.”
I decided to put up a fight just for the hell of it. But after a few moments, the men in white coats easily managed to restrain me and drag me kicking and screaming from the room.
ROGAN’S ESTRANGED FATHER, GARETH ELLIS, sat in a large white room that had a small table in the middle. It reminded me of a sterilized prisoner interrogation room, like the ones I’d seen from watching my parents’ collection of old movies. The men in white coats shoved me into the room and slammed the door behind me.
Gareth, in contrast to the room, was all in black—a suit that I didn’t have to be an expert to know was designer and expensive. I restrained myself from rolling my eyes at the appropriateness of that color. After all, he was the bad guy in this piece, right? I bet he’d personally chosen the color for Rogan’s and my new Countdown uniforms. I resisted the urge to pull the skirt down to cover the bared tops of my thighs. My bullet wound was only a small, f lat pink mark now. Barely noticeable.
If I wasn’t so damn angry, I’d be embarrassed—I looked like some old loser’s wet dream.
Gareth Ellis was a handsome man—but how could he be anything else with Rogan as his son? His hair was a shade lighter than Rogan’s, a lot shorter. He seemed very professional. Very suave and sophisticated.
His eyes were the same color as Rogan’s—a jarring ocean blue-green.
There was no doubt that they were father and son.
Knowing what had happened to Rogan only fueled my hatred for this man before me.
“Kira,” he beckoned. “Come sit with me.”
“I’ll stand, thanks.”
“I wasn’t asking you, I was telling you.” His gaze hardened, but a small smile appeared on his lips. “If you please.”
So this wasn’t going to be fun. Call it a hunch.
Without taking my eyes off of him, I slowly approached the table and slid into the seat across from him. He studied me as if I were a project in a science lab, his gaze scanning every part of me visible above the white tabletop.
“Do you like your new outfit?”
“No.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. I think you wear it well.”
I just glared at him.
“You’re our first female competitor,” he said after a moment.
“I know.”
“How are you enjoying the game so far?”
“Enjoying the game?” I repeated. “Enjoying it? You must be crazy if you think I’m enjoying your sick and twisted game.”
He cocked his head. “You were enjoying it a half hour ago. And you would have enjoyed it even more, I’m sure, if given more time. Tell me, Kira, are you always so loose with boys you’ve known only two days?”
I clenched my fists at my sides. “Kiss my ass.”
He smiled thinly. “A girl with a bit of spirit. It’s refreshing, actually. Most of the girls I meet nowadays are so wrapped up with the desire to go to the Colony that they’ll say anything if they think you could help them achieve that goal.”
“I guess I’m not most girls.”
He didn’t reply to that, but continued to study me closely.
“So, what now?” I asked, completely creeped out by him. “Are you going to stare at me all day?”
“Just trying to see what my son sees in you. Do you think you’re special? Do you think he’s never spent time in the company of young women before? Many would have done anything to be with one of my sons in the past. After all, girls are inevitably motivated by money.”
I just looked at him, seething on the inside.
“Are you falling in love with Rogan?” he asked. “Or is it just lust?”
“I don’t know the whole story about what you did to screw Rogan over, but what I have heard doesn’t make me want to have a long detailed discussion with you about my personal life. Sorry.”
He raised an eyebrow. “I know that he told you what happened.”
“Are you going to deny it?”
He shook his head. “No. Rogan got in the way of Countdown becoming everything it could be. I had to stop him from ruining my plans. It’s that simple.”
Simple. Sure. This guy was obviously off his rocker. “He was sixteen.”
“That’s more than old enough to get in my way, trust me on that.” His gaze remained fixed on me, unwavering, unf linching.
He was incredibly intimidating, but I managed not to look away. “Are we done here?”
“No, we’re not.” He stood up and came around to lean against my side of the table. “I don’t believe in psychic phenomena, Kira. I believe in science.”
“I don’t really give a crap what you believe.”
He smacked me hard across my left cheek. I hadn’t seen it coming; it took me completely by surprise. I pressed my hand against my stinging face and s
tared up at him, my shock quickly shifting to anger.
“Here’s what I believe, Kira. You are a thief. Four weeks ago you picked my pocket on the street. You took my wallet, kept the money from it, and threw the rest away. I followed you and saw the squalor that you live in. But I liked the way you moved.” His gaze moved down the front of me. “I liked the sheer desperation in your actions. I knew you had what it takes to be on my show. I asked my employees to research you. We got a sample of your fingerprints, your DNA. I know more about you than you probably know about yourself.”
There was something about this man, something wrong. He was evil. I felt it down to my very bones. Whether that was my Psi ability kicking in or just plain old gut instinct, I didn’t know.
A smile curled up the side of his mouth. “I analyze, Kira. I analyze and I study and I learn. And I use all of that to help Countdown grow stronger and stronger and better and better until one day it will spread itself across all of this city, this world, and the Colony itself.” He leaned forward and banged his fist against the table. “Are you listening to me?”
My cheek throbbed as I leaned back in my chair and tried to look at ease. “Sorry, I think I just fell asleep a little bit, that story was so damn long. Were you saying something about your wallet?”
His mouth twitched, and it reminded me disconcertingly of Rogan when he smiled. Only with his father it wasn’t pleasant and it wasn’t a smile. There was something much darker behind it that made my skin crawl.
“You truly believe, as Jonathan believes, that you are a low-level Psi?”
My mouth went dry. “I don’t know what I believe.”
Only that you’re a sadistic monster in an expensive business suit.
“If you had any significant abilities at all you would be in a study program in the Colony. Scientists would be prodding you daily trying to figure out what makes you tick.”
“Oh, well.” I tried to sound as bored as I could. My heart was beating so fast I was afraid he’d be able to hear it. He didn’t believe that I had empathic abilities. I wasn’t going to tell him anything to confirm it or deny it. I’d keep all the secrets I could in this game.
“So all you have in life is your ability to compete on Countdown. You should be thanking me.”
I almost laughed. “Thanking you? You’re kidding, right?”
“You dream of going to the Colony. With your means and background, winning Countdown is the only way you’d ever achieve that goal, and my son’s only chance to stay out of prison.”
I gripped the side of the table so hard my fingers went numb. “Why did you frame Rogan for something he didn’t do? Something so horrible? There had to be another way, you heartless bastard.”
“We’re not talking about Rogan, are we? We’re talking about you.”
I didn’t know why I even bothered asking. It was clear he wouldn’t tell me anything useful. “Whatever.”
“But now that you brought him up, I have a proposition for you. Something that, now that the two of you are romantically involved, will make for an interesting side challenge.”
I glared at him.
He leaned closer to me, and I could smell his expensive aftershave. “There is very little chance of you surviving to the end of Countdown. In three years we have had more than eighty pairs compete. Only one of those pairs made it to the very end to receive their ultimate reward. You will die, Kira. And I promise you, it won’t be pleasant.”
It was all I could do to stay where I was seated and not leap across the table to try to strangle him. “Go to hell.”
He grinned. “The Subscribers seem to like you a great deal. It may have something to do with that attitude of yours; or maybe it’s that firm, young body that’s now been exposed for all to see and enjoy.” His gaze moved to my low-cut black top, which made me squirm in my seat. I resisted the impulse to cover myself up. “Maybe it’s the growing connection between you and Rogan beyond the chips in your heads, I don’t know for certain. But they like you. They want you to win.”
“Then I’ll win.”
He shook his head. “No, you won’t. You will die. In level five or level six. It won’t matter. The odds are against you.” He paused. “But I’m going to give you another option.”
He waited until I made eye contact with him again. “And what’s that?”
He moved closer still. “You will kill Rogan on camera. He’s strong, so he might get the upper hand unless you’re sneaky. But I know you can be sneaky when you have to be. The Subscribers don’t like him. They believe that, along with the crimes he was in prison for, he also murdered your family. They want you to seek revenge.”
I shook my head. “But Rogan and I talked. He’s innocent of all of those crimes. If the Subscribers were watching they would have heard that.”
He looked at me smugly. “The Subscribers didn’t hear that part. Technical difficulties, I’m sure. The Subscribers are now wondering why you would let the boy who killed your family nearly have sex with you on camera.” He smiled. “But to each her own, I suppose.”
I could barely control the fury that curled through me like fire. It burned like my face still did where he’d struck me. I’d already known he didn’t play fair, but that didn’t make this easier to digest.
“I’m not killing him,” I said evenly, trying very hard to hold on to my patience before I did something that would get me killed on the spot.
“If you kill him, you will win the game, and you will start your new life in the Colony. A million people living together in a city where all their dreams can come true—not stuck here in a place filled with nothing but violence, uncertainty, and ghosts of the past. You could be one of the lucky ones, Kira.”
I steadied myself, trying to breathe normally, in and out, in and out.
This man couldn’t be this horrible, could he? He was Rogan’s father. That had to count for something. But I’d never met anyone I hated more on contact, and I hated a whole lot of people. It was as if my gut was trying to tell me something. Something my eyes and ears couldn’t sense.
He was sitting so close. Could I get a read on him? Could I push past my anger and frustration and concentrate enough to sense what he was feeling right now?
I’d done it with Jonathan and Rogan. The only thing keeping me from doing it again was my own self-doubt.
I had to do this. I had to know if he was really this horrible or if he was hiding something.
Breathe. Relax. Focus yourself.
He studied me with a small frown. “You’re refusing my offer?”
I exhaled slowly and tried to still my mind. “I am.”
He nodded, his gaze cold as ice. “Then we’re done here. At your inevitable elimination, don’t say I didn’t give you a chance.”
As he was about to get up, my hand shot out. I grabbed his wrist and squeezed. “Wait.”
Please work, I prayed.
I closed my eyes and concentrated harder than I’d ever concentrated in my life.
Nothing.
I frowned. There was nothing but darkness and silence in his mind.
Maybe I was doing it wrong.
“What are you playing at, little girl?” he growled.
I concentrated even more, peeling away the layers I found within him like a black, rotting onion. Layer after layer of darkness until finally I could see something down deep. Sense it. Feel it.
Regret.
That’s all it was. Just a small shadow of emotion smothered under a blanket of icy darkness.
It was something I hadn’t expected.
It was something that told me there was more to him, but it wouldn’t be easy to uncover the truth. I had to ignore the pain—a pressure that had started to build in my head.
Something told me not to let go, to keep searching, to keep reaching with these strange abilities. I had to find some truth that could help me understand any of this.
Who was this man? Why did he feel regret when on the surface he was an evil, manipul
ative sadist who would sacrifice his own son’s future with a smile on his face? That small piece of emotion felt as if it came from an entirely different person—someone who still had a soul.
I kept reaching…searching…I had to know the truth.
Then I felt it, sensed it, something small and barely discernible…
Pain, despair, horrible sadness. Something trapped and muff led, barely alive. Barely conscious.
“Let go of me before I call for my guards.” Gareth spoke quietly, but his words were laced with poison.
I ignored him. Words were not emotions. They weren’t real. His tone didn’t match what I empathically felt.
With every ounce of my strength, I stilled myself and strained to concentrate. His buried emotions were very quiet, very distant…but very precise. Each one like a knife stabbing the soft recesses of my brain. I steeled myself against the mounting pain, trying to hold on for as long as I could.
Help me, Kira. Help my son….
It has me. I can’t escape, but you still can. Find a way, any way…. An image appeared in my brain—an address. It was f leeting, f lickering, and I had to grab hold and pin it down before it faded away. I didn’t know what it meant, but I knew I had to remember it any way I could.
What was this? These weren’t emotions, they were… thoughts. Actual thoughts. I was reading Gareth Ellis’s mind.
And then the men in white coats were pulling me off of Gareth, my fingernails scoring his arm hard enough to draw blood. I was crying from the pain, shaking so badly that they couldn’t keep me on my feet. I sank to the f loor, sobbing and clutching my head.
My nose was bleeding, too; the warm thickness of it came away on my hand as I wiped at my face. My head felt as though it had split open right through the middle.
Gareth Ellis held his injured arm and looked down at me coldly “Perhaps Jonathan was right about you after all.”
I stared up at him. This man—it wasn’t the same one I’d heard in his mind. What was wrong with him? Possession, maybe? A split personality? I didn’t know for sure, but it was something. Something that had turned Rogan’s father evil.
Did he realize I knew?
Yes. I could see it in his icy gaze. He no longer looked amused with me, just annoyed that I’d discovered something he’d prefer no one knew.
Countdown Page 12
