Countdown

CHAPTER EIGHT

I woke but still saw only black. I was wearing a blindfold and my hands were bound behind my back. I stifled a whimper.

Dammit. I hated the darkness. I hated it.

I willed myself to stay as calm as possible and concentrated on the announcer's voice in my head. The one whom I'd come to despise, although it was the only thing at the moment keeping me from freaking out.

"Yesterday in Level Three," he said, "Kira received a bullet wound to her upper femur. Without proper medical intervention she would have died from blood loss. She has now recovered enough to continue.

"She has performed to an exceptionally high level, and the producers of The Countdown are thrilled with your reaction to her and realize you are hungry for more information about our first ever female competitor.

"Kira Jordan is twenty-two years old. Some of her interests include long walks on the beach and wearing sexy lingerie. It excites her to know that you, as subscribers, are watching her every move as part of The Countdown, as she and her handsome but deadly partner, Rogan Ellis, fight for their lives in the anticipation of winning the game.

"On the streets since she was fifteen, Kira has survived as best she could using her brain and her body to get what she needed to survive. Desperate and destitute at the age of fifteen, she decided to use that body to aid her survival. This is a path taken by many lost girls, and it's a story that typically ends in tragedy. Prostitutes rarely trick only once, and even if they have a pimp to protect them, they could be beaten or murdered. At the very least they usually succumb to Kerometh addiction.

"The client Kira found on her darkest day was an older man in search of a young girl-a lawyer who was the lead partner at his firm. His wife had already gone to Offworld and he was to join her in the days to follow. Little did Kira know that he planned to kill and dismember her-a hobby that he'd recently developed-after their sexual tryst.

"However, after a few initial gropes, Kira decided that a life of prostitution was not for her. When she rebuked his actions he struck her and she fell to the floor, where he prepared to take her forcibly.

"The lawyer's wife collected priceless antique china. A bowl had fallen to the floor next to Kira's prone form. While the man was distracted by attempting to force her legs apart, she curled her fingers around the bowl and swung it toward his head, an act that succeeded in knocking him unconscious.

"Before Kira fled the scene, she searched the man's body for his wallet and took all the money that was there, which amounted to just under thirty dollars.

"The altercation was recorded by security cameras the wife had installed to catch her husband, whom she suspected to be cheating. She had no idea that she was married to a demented murderer who was to become, four years later, a formidable contestant on The Countdown. He made it all the way to Level Five before being eliminated.

"Through this event, Kira Jordan realized that stealing would help her live to face the next day. To fight for survival in a dying world. It has also led her here, to this very moment, to the next level of… The Countdown."

The blindfold was ripped from my face and I blinked. The skies were darkening with an approaching storm. A fork of lightning arched across the sky. I felt shaken at hearing one of the lowest points in my life broadcast in a friendly, almost singsong voice. I had no idea until a minute ago that that bastard had wanted to do anything but rape me, as if that wasn't bad enough. He had been ready to kill me, too? I shuddered at the thought.

My wrists burned as the bindings were released, and I felt a shove at my back that made me stagger forward a few feet until I found myself at the edge of a building.

I stifled a scream and struggled to maintain my balance as I saw where I was.

At the top of a skyscraper. On the very edge of the roof. If I'd taken another step I would have dropped at least forty stories to the street far below.

My stomach lurched.

"Kira!"

It was Rogan's voice, and I craned my neck to the left to see that stretched between the tops of two skyscrapers was a small bridge not more than eight inches wide. It went fifty feet across between the two buildings. In the exact middle was Rogan, lying on his back with his arms out above his head. His wrists were bound to the platform.

I looked down at myself. I was fully dressed again in the clothes I'd worn before. The cargo pants were ruined with the bullet hole and dried blood on the thigh. My tank top had seen better days.

"Welcome to Level Four," the singsong voice continued, "a reward level in which Kira is to rescue her partner by crossing a narrow and dangerous bridge high above the city streets, and then the two must continue on to the other side to complete this level successfully. There is no safety gear for this, no ropes, no tricks. All Kira has to work with is her sense of balance and self-preservation. Should they finish they will be well rewarded for their efforts. Our competitors have ten minutes to complete this level. Enjoy! "

I didn't move. I stood in place and stared out at Rogan. I always thought that I only had a fear of the dark. Who knew about this nagging little fear of heights I'd just developed in the past two minutes?

My mouth went dry.

Okay. So I had precisely ten minutes to rescue the man whom I'd been told had killed my family and try not to fall dozens of stories to our deaths.

Splat.

I shuddered and looked around the rooftop I was currently standing on. Whoever had removed my blindfold and bindings had disappeared. I was all alone. Nobody to push me to do this. Nobody to force me.

"Nine minutes remain in this level of The Countdown."

Fuck me.

I made my way to where the platform began-it was even narrower than I'd originally thought. I tried to breathe.

When I was ten years old I took gymnastics. I remember balancing on the beam, trying not to fall off. I'd been pretty good at it then, even been able to do a cartwheel or two. But the floor had been padded in case there were any tumbles.

That had been a long time ago.

The platform seemed fairly stable. I tested it with my foot and it gave a little, but not much. My upper thigh ached dully from where I'd been shot, but I suppose it was better than still bleeding.

These Countdown people wanted their contestants to be in top shape before their precious subscribers got to watch them die.

So sporting of them.

"Kira!" Rogan shouted again. He had his head up and looked at me. "Be careful!"

I ignored him. Thinking about him right now was only going to distract me. There was no time for me to be distracted. To say the least.

Just don't look down, I told myself.

Which left me with very few options. The platform was so narrow that when I focused on it, I couldn't help but see the street so far below me.

My right foot shook as I placed it on the platform, and I wavered for a second, holding my arms out to either side of me as I established my balance. I let out a long breath and tried to center myself.

Just like gymnastics. I needed to pretend that I was competing at the Olympics, if they were still being held. I wanted that gold medal.

Focus on that gold medal, I thought. Think of nothing else.

"Eight minutes remain in this level of The Countdown."

The voice seemed louder in my head than usual, and it surprised me. I shook a little before I steadied myself. I took another tentative step and let out a long, shuddery breath.

"You're doing great, Kira," Rogan said. From what I could see from twenty feet away, his expression was strained. He pulled at his bindings and the platform shook.

"Don't do that!" I yelled. "Just stay still."

"Sorry!"

"Yeah," I muttered under my breath, and a line of sweat trickled down my forehead and onto my nose. "You're going to be sorry, you son of a bitch."

No, don't think about anything negative, I thought. Nothing. Just focus on putting one foot in front of the other-

"Seven minutes remain in this level of The Countdown."

– and doing it quickly.

Christ. That voice was so distracting.

I took another step.

A silver camera buzzed past my face, so close that I felt the wind from it. I glared up into its lens and it came back for another pass.

"How is Kira feeling right now?" the voice asked. "Ready to win The Countdown and receive her ultimate prize of a first-class ticket on the Off world shuttle?"

"Fuck off," I told it. "Pretty please."

It flew away and out of my peripheral vision, but I could still see two other cameras moving around in the air nearby.

Jonathan had told them what I wanted. Okay, so that made it official. I was playing for keeps. I wanted that prize more than I wanted anything else in the world.

Another step. Balance. Another step. Balance.

I raised my gaze to look at Rogan, who was much closer now, his head still propped up, and he watched me as I approached. His jaw was tense, the muscles in his arms tight. The closer I got, I could see a small grin appear on his lips.

"What the hell are you smiling at?" I managed.

"Just the fact that you've come to my rescue. Does that make you my knight in shining armor?"

I didn't smile. "I haven't rescued you yet."

His grin faded. "Just watch your step. Don't fall. Here comes another camera."

It buzzed close enough that it almost touched me. "What the hell? Are they trying to knock me off this thing?"

"They're not trying to give you a helping hand, that's for damn sure."

"Why'd you let them tie you up like this?"

He pulled at the bindings. The platform shook slightly. "Like it was my idea. They took me outside the room and knocked me out again. I woke up here. Trust me, it was a hell of a shock."

I studied the ropes that tied him. "This is going to be tricky."

"I don't think the knots are too tight. It's just awkward."

I studied the face of the man who may have killed my family. He looked up at me with those blue-green eyes framed with dark lashes and that fading scar. He wore the same clothes as before: bloody, dirty, ripped. I still saw the handsome man under the ruin, the one I'd let charm me into believing in him.

His dark brows were drawn together as he frowned up at me. "Why are you looking at me that way, sweetheart?"

I blinked back tears. "Just shut up. I need to concentrate."

I thought back to gymnastics. One lesson had been how to kneel down on the bar without losing balance. It had taken me forever to learn that without falling off, but I had finally gotten it. However, that was more than ten years ago, and definitely not a skill I used all the time. Unfortunately.

I slowly crouched down far enough that I could fumble with the bindings around his ankles just above his worn black boots.

His body took up the entire width of the platform and then some. He couldn't move without shaking everything around, and I couldn't get past him.

He eyed his wrists. "Now what?"

A camera whizzed past my ear and I swatted at it, hitting cold metal.

"Five minutes remain in this level of The Countdown."

I met his gaze and saw there was more than a trace of fear behind it. There was concern. For me.

My heart wrenched. Why was he concerned for me? Dammit. I hated that I'd convinced myself he was a good man-and even now, after everything, I still had doubts about his guilt. Was it because I wouldn't allow myself to believe I could be attracted to the man who may have murdered my family?

"I'm thinking."

He blinked. "What they said earlier… about what happened with you and that lawyer scumbag-"

"It was true. All of it."

His jaw tensed. "If he wasn't already dead I'd find him and rip his heart out."

I willed myself to stay focused on the platform. "Nothing happened. I learned my lesson the hard way."

"I'd still kill him."

"It's that easy for you? Killing?" My voice broke on the word.

His expression darkened. "I'll do it for a good cause. For the right reason. To protect myself or somebody I care about."

"Are you saying that you care about me?"

"Sure." He averted his gaze. "And now I care that you untie me so we can get this fucking level over with."

"Don't forget it's supposed to be a reward level."

"I couldn't give a smaller shit. I just want us to get through this in one piece. Now you're going to have to climb over me and untie me so we can keep going. There's not much time left."

I put a hand on his jeans-clad thigh and slowly eased myself lower. He spread his legs so his feet dangled off the side of the platform to give me space to maneuver. Now on my knees, I slid myself closer to him until I couldn't go any farther. I placed my hands on his hard-muscled abdomen, then one at a time on his chest, sliding up to his shoulders. I grabbed the platform above his head on either side of his arms. Our bodies were now firmly pressed against each other. I heard his breathing hitch and felt his cock harden against my stomach.

"Is it wrong that I'm enjoying this a little bit?" he rasped.

"Yeah, it's wrong."

My breasts rubbed against his chest, and he inhaled sharply and let out a low groan. "Dammit, Kira."

I leaned in closer and whispered in his ear, "Jonathan told me that you're the one who killed my family."

He tensed and pulled his face away so he could stare into my eyes. His were wide. "What?"

"You heard me. Seven years ago when you were a Kerometh addict." A tear slipped down my cheek and fell into the empty air beneath us. "You broke into our home in the dead of night and shot my mother, father, and sister. And you would have killed me, too, if the cops hadn't arrived."

He shook his head. "No, Kira-"

"Shut up. Just shut up. That's why they picked me to be your partner. Because they knew what you did to me. They knew. Jonathan told me-"

"Jonathan's a fucking liar," he spat out. "He's one of them. Don't you see? He's lying to you. I didn't kill your family. I swear to God I didn't."

"And I'd believe you? Why would I believe you?"

"You have to believe me."

"I don't have to do anything." I shook my head and slid past him, going hand over hand, pulling myself clear of his body. "I can leave you here. I don't have to save you, as long as I save myself. You can die and I'll live."

Something in his expression shattered. "You're the only one who's given me the benefit of the doubt in years. Please don't take that away."

I just held on to the platform and closed my eyes tightly, trying to stop any more tears from spilling.

He craned his neck to look at me. His eyes glistened. "Kira, I've done bad things. I'll admit that. I've killed before. But I haven't killed anyone who didn't deserve it"

"Maybe you have a lousy idea of who deserves to die."

"I swear, Kira, I didn't kill your family."

"How would you even remember? If you were in the middle of a Kerometh fury, then you wouldn't be thinking too clearly."

There was deep anguish in his expression as he strained to keep me in his gaze. "I've never taken Kerometh a day in my life."

I brought the back of my hand up to wipe at the tears on my cheeks and frowned so hard that it hurt. He'd never taken Kerometh before?

"There are three minutes remaining in this level of The Countdown."

I'd read Jonathan. I knew he was telling me the truth.

The truth, I thought. How did I know for sure it was the truth? Because he read as being an honest man? Even honest men could lie when they had to.

What else had I felt? Guilt. Jonathan felt a deep sense of guilt, but I didn't know why.

Maybe he felt guilty that he was being forced to lie to me about Rogan. If Rogan had killed my family and left me as an orphan who almost had to sell her body to get enough money not to starve to death, then I hated him.

But if he didn't do it… if he was innocent…

I couldn't know for sure. Not now, and not with less than three minutes to go in this level. I didn't have enough time or the ability to concentrate to touch him, to read him, and even if I did would that tell me anything? I'd gotten a great read on Jonathan, but that only left me with more questions. More confusion.

Unless … unless Jonathan believed what he told me was true. Just because he believed it didn't necessarily make it true, but it would explain what my flex had told me.

Dammit. I didn't know.

I let out a cry of frustration and started working on Rogan's wrist bindings until they dropped away. I watched them fall, the ropes getting farther and farther away as they got closer to the street. I felt dizzy suddenly and tried to get up to my feet, but my hand slipped on the wet platform. It had started to rain. I hadn't even noticed until now.

Rogan gripped my wrists and held me in place just before I fell off the platform. We waited, facing each other on our knees until the platform stopped shaking. I stared into his eyes as the rain fell around us, soaking through our clothes.

"I would have fallen," I said, willing myself not to look down again.

"I know." His eyes were moist, and not just from the rain. "You're the only one who's ever believed in me, Kira. Please believe me now."

"Two minutes remain in this level of The Countdown."

He didn't wait for me to say anything else. He slowly and carefully got to his feet. He held a hand out to me, and I took it and stood up.

"Let's go," he said.

I nodded and swiveled carefully to face the other building. I took a step, and then another step, and then another.

"Fifty-nine.. fifty-eight.. fifty-seven …"

"Don't think about the countdown," Rogan breathed from behind me into my now damp hair. "Don't think about the rain. Don't think about anything but surviving."

I swallowed hard. "I think I'm afraid of heights."

"So am I."

I almost laughed at that.

I took another step, and another. A camera whipped past me at a breakneck speed and I stopped. I felt Rogan's hand at my back to steady me.

"You're doing great, Kira. Just keep going."

"Five… four… three …"

With a last step I touched the roof. Another step and I was on it completely and jumped down off the ledge. Rogan landed next to me. I turned to face him and felt an odd sense of relief that we'd both made it to the other side in one piece. Streams of rain hit the rooftop around us.

He reached out as if to touch me, but then pulled his hand back. "Kira, I-"

"Congratulations to Kira and Rogan on completing Level Four of The Countdown successfully. This was also a reward level, so we hope that you will enjoy what we have in store for you next."

I braced myself for the blinding pain that usually preceded being struck unconscious by our implants, but instead I could hear a helicopter approach. My wet hair whipped around on all sides. Rogan grabbed my arm to pull me closer to him as the helicopter landed next to us.

Three men in white coats jumped out. They held guns. I couldn't hear anything because the sound from the helicopter's propellers was too deafening. The men in white were yelling something and waving the guns. I turned away and tried to run, but one of the man grabbed me around my neck. I fought him, but he dragged me to the helicopter and pulled me inside. I couldn't see where Rogan was. I yelled his name but couldn't even hear my own voice.

The helicopter lifted off from the roof and flew into the dark, stormy sky.

CHAPTER NINE

I heard Rogan yelling my name from the near distance as the blindfold covering my eyes was ripped off and I was pushed into a room. The door slammed shut behind me.

A gun was on me. "Strip," the voice behind it said, masculine, gruff, and his eyes slithered down my body.

My gaze darted around the room that, other than being totally white, had no other distinguishing features. "You're going to have to shoot me, asshole."

White Coat smirked. "Don't you want your reward?"

"I don't want any reward that starts with me getting naked in front of people holding guns."

He cocked the gun. "Strip now, bitch."

The door opened again and Jonathan walked in. Despite the fact that I now considered him a total lying bastard, I was surprisingly happy to see him.

"Is everything well in here?" he asked blandly, barely even glancing at me.

"Is everything well?" I repeated. "Are you fucking with me?"

He regarded me then with a neutral expression. "I'm sorry this has been difficult for you, Kira. Congratulations on finishing the reward level. I'm sure you'll be very pleased to enjoy some privacy after four difficult levels."

I narrowed my eyes. "You lied to me. Didn't you? About Rogan?"

He didn't confirm or deny it. He nodded at another man in white who threw something at me, and I couldn't do anything except catch it. It was a robe, a bathrobe. White.

Big surprise on the color choice.

Jonathan nodded at the men. "We'll give you some privacy. Leave your clothes in here."

"Where have you taken Rogan?" I asked.

Instead of answering me, he turned and followed the men out of the room. The door closed solidly behind him.

I stood there, shaking, looking at the terry-cloth robe draping off my arm. Then I dropped it and ran to the door, pounding my fists against it.

"Where's Rogan?" I yelled. "What have you done with him?"

I turned around and looked at the small white room, my chest heaving in and out. And I waited.

For a long time.

But nothing happened.

There was no sound. No movement. Nobody came in to force me to take my clothes off. I was alone with nothing to distract me except my racing thoughts.

I felt the back of my hair, now matted and stringy from being caught out in the rain. I touched the incision where the implant was. It wasn't giving off any warning signal.

He must be close.

Dammit. I wanted to talk to him. Why had I trusted Jonathan when I saw it was now obvious that he was the liar?

If only I'd done a true flex on Rogan, I wouldn't have doubted him at all-but I'd found it so difficult to concentrate around him. Especially in this crazy situation. No man had ever confused me as much as he did. As he does.

I felt sudden concern for him twist in my stomach.

Okay, I guess it was obvious that I believed him. I wouldn't be concerned for him if I thought it was all true.

I've never taken Kerometh a day in my life, he'd said.

Jonathan had lied to me so the level would be extra entertaining for the subscribers.

I hated being lied to.

And that look Rogan gave me out there on the platform when I accused him of killing my family … He hadn't looked guilty or shocked or dismayed by what I said.

He looked disappointed. Completely, devastatingly disappointed that I would think that of him after telling him I believed in his innocence.

I bit my bottom lip and drew my arms around myself and hugged while trying to breathe normally.

"Hello?" I said out loud. "Announcer guy? What's going on now?"

There was no answer.

It was quite obvious, actually. They were waiting for me to change my clothes, and nothing would happen until I did.

Make them wait, I thought bitterly.

And so I waited-another ten minutes.

Then, as quickly as I could-using the robe to cover myself as I did so-I slipped out of my wet, dirty clothes and let them drop heavily to the shiny white floor. I kicked off my stolen red running shoes. I tied the sash of the white robe tight around my waist and stood there in bare feet.

"Now what?" I growled from between clenched teeth.

There was a whirring sound and the door to my right opened, moving from floor to ceiling. It was dark beyond. I approached it cautiously and looked inside.

It looked like a luxury hotel room. Large and grand, with rich fabrics and beautiful artwork. A large four-poster bed was to the right. To the left an archway led into a huge bathroom. A large window looked out to a red, orange, pink, and yellow sunset over a tranquil rippling lake. Trees waved gently in the breeze. I approached closer and touched the window. The image flickered. It wasn't a window at all, but a large display screen. I could see the slot on the right side where the disk containing the image files went. The moving picture it displayed looked just like I'd imagined Offworld would look-absolutely perfect.

Looks so real, I thought absently.

Next to the screen and spread across a table was a feast unlike anything I'd ever seen before. Fruit, breads, meat, lobster, shrimp, cheese. A large bottle of wine sat in a silver bucket surrounded by ice. I reached out, noticing that my hand was shaking, and plucked a green grape from the table and brought it to my mouth, crunching down through the skin. The sweetness burst in my mouth. I felt as if I hadn't eaten in days. And I hadn't. Not really. Not like this.

Level Four is a reward level, Jonathan had said.

This was my reward. Food and a bit of privacy. I hadn't even realized how hungry I was until I saw real food.

Where was Rogan? I wondered, and my stomach twisted again with concern. Was he in a room just like this one?

After another minute of worry, my hunger won out.

I started to shovel the food into my mouth. Cheese, crackers, more grapes. Ignoring the wineglasses I grabbed the bottle and tipped it back, chugging the wine down my throat.

After a few minutes at the feast filled me enough to concentrate on something else, I moved toward the bathroom and gasped. There was a large bathtub, more like a Jacuzzi, filled near to overflowing with bubbles. The scent that filled the warm air was sweet and floral, like roses dipped in honey.

I looked around, trying to see where the cameras were, but I couldn't see any.

Was Jonathan serious that part of my reward was some privacy? It seemed too good to be true. I wouldn't let myself believe it, and my suspicions only worked to make my now-full stomach more upset.

I paced for several more minutes, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Waiting for the cameras to burst out of the walls.

But there was nothing.

I listened carefully to the silence surrounding me and wondered for the eightieth time where Rogan was. My implant wasn't giving off any strange beeping signals. Wherever he was, he was less than ninety feet away.

I slowly became aware of an unpleasant smell and realized that it was me. I'd been running and sweating hard for two days now, and even after being drenched from the rainfall, I felt completely disgusting.

Finally I let the robe drop to the floor and I eased into the tub, letting out an audible sigh. It had been so long since I'd had a real bath. I'd gotten by on quick showers whenever and wherever I got the chance. This was pure ecstasy. Still paranoid, I waited for a silver camera to fly up and catch me naked in the bathtub, but there was only blissful silence.

I thought of Rogan then as I sank down deeper into the calming water. Was he receiving the same treatment?

There were two bottles, one of shampoo and one of conditioner, and I quickly made use of each one, slipping beneath the surface of the water to rinse my hair clean.

When I was finished I got out of the tub, toweling myself dry and putting the robe back on. I went back out to the main room and tried to organize my thoughts.

There was no time for relaxation. Even after the food and the bath, I still felt on edge. I had to use this time to figure out how to get out of this game before it killed me.

The door burst open and Rogan appeared behind it. He stepped inside the room just as the door slammed shut behind him.

My eyes widened at him. He wore a matching robe to mine. His hair was slicked back off his face, which was now grime-free. His eyes stood out like blue-green jewels in the dim lighting.

Damn, I'd been right. He did clean up really well.

He stared at me for a moment and then eyed the room, including the buffet table. He stormed toward me and grabbed my arms.

His expression was intense. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm … I'm fine. And you?"

"Did you eat any of this food?"

"Yes."

He shook his head. "Didn't it occur to you that it might be drugged?"

I raised my eyebrows. "Actually, now that you mention it-"

He glared at me. "It could have been poisoned."

"I was starving to death. And I'm fine. See?" I turned around. "Not dead yet."

He gave me a look of relief and sat down on the edge of the bed. "No, I guess you aren't."

"Maybe a reward level is simply that. A reward. No poison. And apparently no cameras, either."

"Forgive me if I'm a bit suspicious of anything that happens to us."

God, and I thought I was tense. Rogan seemed to be the definition of the word.

I eyed his white robe. "They gave you a bath, too?"

"More like a hosing off."

"You smell nice for a change."

He looked up at me. "So do you." He moistened his lips with the tip of his tongue and frowned deeply at me. "But you're okay? They didn't hurt you?"

"No. I'm fine."

"I'm very glad to hear it." His expression softened, and he reached up to touch my face and almost seemed surprised that I didn't pull away.

His hand felt warm against my cheek. "About what happened on the platform …" I started.

He pulled his hand away and stood up from the bed. "I guess you have some questions for me, don't you?"

I nodded.

He started to pace the room, his expression darkening. "I didn't kill your family, Kira. You have to believe me."

"I believe you." I tried to meet his gaze but he looked away.

"I don't want there to be any doubt. Not anymore. But I don't know how to prove it to you so you won't doubt it again."

I bit my lip. "Actually, there's a way. If you're willing."

His frown deepened. "If it'll prove to you that I'm innocent then I'm open to anything."

"Are you sure about that?" I finally captured his gaze and took a step closer to him.

He nodded stiffly. "I'm sure."

"You might want to sit down, then."

He eyed me curiously but didn't argue, and sat down in a nearby plush burgundy chair. I walked around to stand behind him.

"Just try to relax," I suggested.

I leaned closer and slid my hands under his robe on either shoulder, and then down to his chest. Full skin on skin. I felt his heartbeat quicken under my touch. His breathing increased. He was so warm and still damp from his shower.

"What are you doing?" he asked, his voice a little gruff.

I moistened my lips and whispered into his ear, "Shh. I need to concentrate."

And I did.

And I flexed.

I heard him gasp softly as I entered his mind.

The sensations flooded over me. The true Rogan was revealed beneath my fingers and into me.

::::::::Alone

Tired::::::::

Angry::::::::

::::::::Revenge

Despair::::::::

::::::: Disappointment

Betrayal::::::::

::::::::Guilt

Sadness::::::::

::::::::Desire

It didn't hurt yet, and I sensed something else inside of him. I slid deeper into his mind.

No… I didn't do it…. She doesn't believe me…. She hates me…. She's so beautiful… so brave … so strong…. I need to kill him…. He needs to be stopped…. I need to stop this once and for all… once and for all… all my fault… all of this is all my fault..

I pulled my hands away from him as the pain suddenly knifed through my brain, and I fell to the floor holding my head and moaning.

Oh, God. The agony! It spread around my entire brain, squeezing and squeezing until I thought my head would burst. But then it finally eased, leaving behind a pain deep enough that I had to keep my eyes shut, grinding my fists into them to focus myself.

Were those actual thoughts? Did I just read Rogan's mind? But they couldn't be real thoughts. They were disjointed and didn't make any sense. They were all over the place.

It was more like an imprint-like a snapshot-of who Rogan truly was in words.

Painful words.

"Kira," Rogan murmured as he fell to the floor beside me and gathered me into his arms. He kissed my forehead softly and stroked the still-damp dark hair back from my face. "Are you okay? What was that? I felt you. I felt you in my head."

Without saying anything-I wasn't sure I could have if I tried-I let him hold me, and I wrapped my arms tightly around him. I wasn't lying before. He smelled good, so very good. I let his scent fill my senses, and it helped to chase the pain away until I could think straight again.

Finally I moved back, but he held my face in his hands, staring at me so intently. His robe gaped open at the front, and I could see the smooth line of muscled chest down to his waist.

"You definitely didn't do it," I said simply, and a great relief filled his gaze.

He shook his head. "No, I didn't."

"I believe you."

"So I'm guessing you're a psi."

"Good guess. I was low-level, but it seems to be getting a hell of a lot stronger as time goes by, if you ask me."

He stroked the dark hair off my forehead again. "That was a hell of a lot sexier than a regular palm reading."

I smiled weakly. "What can I say? I aim to please."

He gave me a lopsided grin. "All right, now that we've established that I'm innocent once and for all, now what?"

"Now I want you to tell me what you're really guilty of."

His grin fell away. "What do you mean?"

I met his gaze and held it, while my head continued to throb. "You said yourself that you're guilty as hell of something I probably wouldn't forgive you for. And I just felt it right then. It's eating you alive inside. Whatever this is, you hate yourself for it, and you think I will, too. And if it isn't the rape and murder of innocent women, and if it isn't killing my family, then I don't know what else it could be."

He tried to look away, but I grabbed his collar again.

'Tell me," I said, firmer. "We're not going anywhere until you do. And I don't want to use my flex on you again, because my head just might blow up next time." I frowned.

"What is it?"

"It's just… just that I've never heard the person I'm reading before. It's always just been flashes of insight. Moods or feelings or… I don't even know how to explain it. But with you, just then, I could almost… read what you were thinking down deep."

He raised an eyebrow. "And what was I thinking?"

My cheeks warmed. "You were thinking that I'm beautiful."

He made a barking laugh noise. "Now that she's all bathed and shampooed, she's gone conceited on me."

I just looked at him.

He cleared his throat. "Well, that's a given, really. You're gorgeous, and I'm sure you damn well know it. How can I not notice that? So what else did you mind-read on me?"

"That you want revenge on somebody so badly you want them dead. And that you feel deeply responsible for something horrible that happened. That's happening."

His jaw tensed and he didn't say anything.

I stood up from the floor and moved toward the spread of food again, thinking hard. "You know, ever since this game began, you seem to have known a hell of a lot about it. Little insights and little helps that I wouldn't have guessed. I mean, right at the beginning you knew that the room we were in had collapsed on itself, remember? But you didn't actually see that. How could you know?"

His throat worked as he swallowed. "Kira … just forget it."

"No, I'm not forgetting it. You said you came from Saradone. But how do I know that's true?"

"It's true." There was no more lightness in his voice. "I was in there for four goddamned years. Don't tell me that you're doubting me again. I thought we established that I'm not lying to you."

"No, but you're not telling me something. That's different from not lying."

"Just forget it. Trust me, Kira. You don't want to know."

There was silence between us for a moment.

"Do you know somebody named Gareth?" I asked suddenly.

His face went as still and expressionless as stone. "How do you know that name?"

"Jonathan told me that he's the producer of The Countdown." I crossed my arms. "Jonathan told me a lot of things, and even though I now know he's a liar, it doesn't mean everything he said was untrue. I'm just wondering how connected you are with this game. Why did this Gareth guy pick you? Why did they try to injure you at the very beginning so you wouldn't last long? What's so damn special about you if you were just in jail for something you didn't even do?"

His expression had darkened considerably. "You ask a lot of questions."

"And I'm not done yet. Tell me who this Gareth guy is."

He studied me for what seemed like an hour but was probably no more than a minute. "Gareth is my brother."

CHAPTER TEN

I stared at him. "What did you just say?"

Rogan's throat worked as he swallowed. "You heard me."

"But… but how is that even possible? Why would your brother put you in this game? Does he even know you're here?"

He hissed out a long breath and went to stand in front of the display screen with the fake view of that perpetually setting sun. The warm colors reflected against his handsome, scarred face. "He knows. It's … it's complicated."

"How could you have a brother who would create a game like this that kills people for the amusement of the subscribers?"

He laughed then, and it was a hollow, soulless sound. "See, now you come to the true secret, Kira. The one I would rather you'd never found out about me. You really want to know how fucked-up my life is? Maybe then you can go back to hating me."

"What are you talking about?"

He still refused to look directly at me. His arms were tightly crossed in front of him. "My brother didn't create The Countdown. I did."

My eyes widened. "What are you talking about?"

"Look at me, Kira." He turned to face me completely. "Do you see this ruin of a man in front of you? I wasn't always like this. Ten years ago, when my parents died, I was one of the richest people in the world. Have you heard of Ellis Enterprises?"

I blinked, trying to process what he was telling me. Have it make some sort of sense. "I… I think so. Sure. I have. It's the huge company that used to make all the computers."

He nodded. "Yeah, among other things. I took the money that my father had built up over a lifetime. Shit, the man made money even during the worst days after the plague. Nobody made money then. But he …" He shook his head, his expression pained. "He managed to squeeze out every penny he could. And when I inherited his fortune, did I do any good with all that money?"

"Rogan … are you serious about all of this?"

"Yeah, I'm serious. You've wanted to know more about me since we met. Well, guess what? You're going to get the fast-forward in the Rogan Ellis School of Losers right now. I had billions of dollars, Kira. Billions. I could have made such a difference to the world with that kind of money. But I just spent it on selfish things. Entertainment, cars, property, women." He spat out the words. "Forget Kerometh, I got to try all the fancy drugs that didn't have any side effects. But none of it made me happy. I was so bored with my life that I couldn't think straight."

I shook my head. "No, it couldn't have been that bad. You couldn't have been that bad."

He snorted. 'Trust me, I was. But then I had an idea. I created a game. Six levels. And I got people to volunteer to go on it. Then I got people to pay to watch it. I spent a ton of my father's money on developing this thing, but regular cameras weren't good enough. It needed better technology and a better edge. I sank more money into developing an artificial intelligence program."

"Wait… artificial intelligence? Like the robot from Level Three?"

He pressed his lips together for a moment and then nodded with a jerk of his head. "Yeah, almost got taken out by the same thing I helped develop in the first place. If that isn't irony, then I don't know what is."

I took a deep breath in and let it out slowly. "Okay, keep going."

"Are you sure you want to hear the rest?"

I frowned at him. "No. But keep going anyhow."

He raked a hand through his dark hair and paced to the other side of the luxurious room. "We didn't do so well with the game in the beginning. There was too much competition from the other networks that were still on the air. Jonathan was my friend back then, and he was the head of the Ellis medical research department. It probably made my father feel better about his greed to put some money into something altruistic. Jonathan randomly suggested one day that I take things underground. Make it secret and exclusive, so that only certain people had access to it. Together we started to develop the cranium implants."

I touched the back of my head to feel the incision mark on my scalp. I didn't interrupt again. I sat on the edge of the bed and listened to him, the knots in my stomach getting tighter with every word he spoke.

His mouth twisted. "It was great for a while. Word of mouth spread about this supersecret game. My brother helped me out with the show and testing out the implants. We both got fitted with a prototype-that's the extra mark you found on my head-but they never worked properly. The next ones we developed did, though. We paid off the prison to let us use their inmates. If they won they got a reduction in their sentences. But then, one day, one of them was killed by accident on camera during one of the levels. I thought the incident would shut us down and that would be the end-I'd lose everything I'd worked hard to gain. But instead the show got even more popular, and the addition of the implants only made it cooler to the subscribers. But then they wanted more blood, more death, more everything."

He paced to the other side of the room. "I didn't even think I had a conscience until it was tested. I wasn't going to be the producer of a show that killed people for the amusement of others."

He turned to me then, as if expecting me to have a look of disgust on my face. When I didn't, he looked away again.

"It made me a little crazy, I guess," he said. "Late one night a little over four years ago, I started pulling the plugs on the network and breaking the computers. My brother was there and he tried to stop me, but I knocked him into a bank of computers and there was a power surge-a huge one that shut off the electricity citywide for a couple days. When my brother got up I thought he was going to see logic and maybe help me, but… he didn't. Instead he called the police and had me arrested. When I was in jail waiting for my hearing, I heard the newsbreak. Pictures of me, video captures-all fake- and the story was about the murders of those poor girls."

He rubbed a hand over his mouth, his eyes haunted by memories. "My brother turned his back on me. He disowned me. Then there was the trial, and the jury deliberated for all of ten minutes before they sentenced me to five hundred years." He let out a short, humorless laugh. "Here I thought Gareth never wanted to see me again, and yet he's dragged me back into the game after all these years. I don't know what the fuck he's playing at, but I don't find it funny at all."

He stopped talking and I just stared at him, trying to take in everything he'd just said. Process it. Figure it out and make sense of it.

"Your brother hated you that much?" My voice shook as I said it. "Enough to frame you to get you out of the way? What did you do to him?"

He frowned deeply. "Nothing. My brother and I got along just fine before that night. Fought like cats and dogs, sure, but that's just how brothers are." He shook his head. "The last time I saw him was when he had me arrested. He never showed up for any of the trial. Never to visit me. Nothing."

"I can't believe this."

He raised his gaze from the floor. "Believe it."

"Everyone thinks you're a rapist and a murderer."

"That's right."

I chewed my bottom lip. "When I read you, I did feel guilt. But you feel guilty about creating this game."

"It's all my fault," he managed. "All of these people who've died playing it. More than four years Gareth's been in charge, and it's just gotten worse and worse."

"Just to make money."

He shrugged. "I don't know anymore. Maybe he gets off on the violence, like the subscribers do. Maybe he likes seeing people who don't have a choice make the last mistake of their lives. He never used to be like that. Maybe he's just greedy. I guess he's a lot like me."

My jaw clenched. "I don't think he's anything like you."

He blinked at me. "How can you say that after what I just told you?"

I felt a line of anger move through me. "Because it sounds like you were a self-involved rich boy who was bored and created a game to entertain himself. That makes you an asshole, but it doesn't make you a monster."

"That's entirely debatable."

"Whatever's happened to this game in the last few years is Gareth's fault, not yours."

He shook his head. "No, it's not true. It's my fault."

I tried to think. "You need to talk to Gareth."

He laughed. "He won't talk to me. I've tried to contact him before."

"Do you know anything about the game that could help us get the hell out of it?"

"If I did, don't you think I would have done it already?" He shook his head and then looked at me strangely. "Why are you even still talking to me? I thought you'd want to kill me for what I've just told you."

"I don't want to kill you. Well, not too much, anyhow."

"Then you should hate me. As much as I hate myself."

He looked so despondent at revealing his deep, dark secret that I touched his cheek and stared up at him and felt a swell of emotion. I was surprised that I wasn't angrier about what he'd just told me. But I wasn't. All I wanted to do was take his pain away. He'd just revealed a hell of a lot to me. But it didn't make me hate him.

Not at all.

I placed my hands flat against his muscled chest, spreading the robe to the sides. He didn't pull away.

"What are you doing?" he breathed as I pressed myself against him. I felt his cock immediately harden against me. "Why would you even want to be close to me after what I just told you?"

I licked my lips. "Because when I look into your eyes I see sadness, and such a deep, aching loneliness that all I want to do is make it go away."

"Kira … please …"

I didn't say anything, instead allowing my hands to roam freely over his chest, his arms, his stomach. I pressed my lips against his shoulder-the wound he'd had at the beginning of the game that had already almost magically healed to a flat red mark-and along his collarbone to the center of his chest. He felt so warm.

I slid my hands down his sides to the sash of his robe and untied it, then moved my hands back up to his shoulders and pushed the robe off him, letting it fall to the ground.

He was fully nude in front of me, clean golden skin over tight muscle, and all I wanted to do was to touch him. God, he was beautiful. My heart filled with strange emotion for him, which had only grown since he'd told me his story. Shared his pain with me, thinking it would make me run away from him, when all it did was bring me closer.

He looked at me with some uncertainty and a bit of fear. Couldn't he see in my eyes how much I wanted him? How I'd always wanted him but been too afraid to trust my own feelings? He didn't pull away from me or my hands as they slowly explored his body.

"Just kiss me, Rogan." I rose up on my toes and crushed my mouth against his. A small groan escaped his lips. His hands moved down to my waist.

I slid my tongue into his mouth and tasted him, swirling my tongue around his. He didn't pull away or try to say anything to stop me.

I broke off the kiss, feeling breathless, and our gazes met. His was filled with passion and deep, dark need.

"Kira …" he murmured again. "You don't have to do this."

"Oh, but I want to. Very, very much."

I gave him a wicked grin, then sank down to my knees in front of him. I wrapped my fingers firmly around his length and was greeted by a gasp from his lips. Before he could say anything to either stop me or urge me on, I swirled my tongue over the head of his cock, then slowly took him into my mouth.

His knees buckled, but he stayed on his feet.

"Oh, God, what are you doing to me?"

Hmm. If he didn't know the answer to that he'd been in jail for longer than I thought.

Every moan I coaxed from his lips, every groan of pleasure made my heart swell. I'd never wanted anyone as much as this man I'd been through hell with.

Forget the damn buffet. Rogan was my reward, my tarnished prince, and all I wanted was to make him happy.

After another minute he grabbed my upper arms and yanked me up to my feet, covering my mouth with his, touching, tasting, licking, my hand still curled around him, working him with smooth strokes until he pulled me away from him.

For a moment I thought that he was trying to end this, but instead he yanked at the tie at my waist. My robe slipped off and I stood naked in front of him. For a moment I felt terribly exposed. I'd been with only two other men in my life, but it was in shadows and silence, and out of necessity or mild fondness. Not this … this need I felt for the man who stood in front of me, looking at me with such dark, aching hunger. I'd known him for only two days, but I wanted him more than anything else in the world.

"Kira," he whispered against my lips. "You're so beautiful. I want you so much."

Then he kissed me again, slow and long and perfect. Our tongues slid against each other, deeper and deeper. He backed me up until the backs of my legs hit the bed and eased me back onto the soft surface. He moved his mouth down to my breast and captured a hard nipple, biting down on it gently, and then moving his tongue around it in slow circles.

I moaned at the sensation, starting to feel out of control, and gasped as his right hand found its way between my thighs and the evidence of my raging desire for him. I felt him smile, his rough whiskers teasing my breast, as he looked up into my heavy-lidded gaze.

"You like this?" he asked, as the fingers teased and then slid slowly inside of me.

I arched off the bed with a soft scream. "Oh!"

"Do you want me, Kira?" he breathed into my ear.

I just nodded, barely able to speak. Barely able to think. "Yes … now. Please!"

His smile grew. "No, not quite yet."

I raked my hands through his dark hair as he traced his mouth lower on my body, my breasts, my stomach. He nudged my legs farther apart so I was fully exposed to him. And then I felt his tongue against me while his fingers still moved deep within.

That did it.

My world exploded-fell apart completely as I came over and over, screaming his name, and I reached behind me to grab on to something, anything. When I didn't think I could take it a moment longer, when the pleasure was too intense, I felt his mouth on mine again, kissing me deeper and harder than before.

He entered me then, slowly stretching me to accommodate his width. I spread my legs farther and grasped at his firm ass as he began to pump in and out of me.

Oh, God, it was too much. He felt so good. Nothing had ever felt this good in my life.

"Kira, oh, Kira…" My name was hardly recognizable as it left his lips, slurred with passion and hard-edged lust.

The dam of whatever self-restraint he had broke, and he began to lose control. Each thrust deepened and was more forceful-Rogan was a man who had been isolated in prison and had not known physical contact in years, and I felt the dark need begin to overwhelm him.

It made me realize how lonely I'd been, too. When I was with Rogan, I wasn't lonely anymore. We were in this together, just the two of us, and we would find our way out. Somehow.

I wrapped my legs tightly around his waist and I stared up into his eyes, now glazed with desire. He felt so good, so incredibly good as I ran my hands up and down his hard, muscled back and arched again, each thrust of his body bringing with it a wave of pleasure. I never wanted this to end-I wanted him inside me forever.

But then with a hoarse cry and a last deep thrust of his hips he collapsed on top of me. I wrapped my arms around him, holding him close until his breathing came back to normal and his mouth found mine again and he kissed me over and over.

We gazed at each other for a long time as we lay side by side in the warm, comfortable four-poster bed. I traced the scar on his cheek with the tip of my finger, and then followed that with a line of kisses along it that led back to his lips.

"I'm very glad you're my partner," he murmured in my ear. "I think I'd hate to have a reward level like this with some guy named Biff."

I bit my bottom lip to keep from smiling too widely at that. "You do realize I only had sex with you because now I know you're really rich."

He laughed, a rich sound deep in his throat. "I figured as much."

"We're getting out of this, Rogan. You and me. We're going to win this."

He kissed me, pulled me closer, and I wanted him again so very badly.

"And with Kira and Rogan enjoying the afterglow of their mid-Countdown tryst, we hope that you enjoyed the bonus footage, subscribers."

I felt cold. "What was that?"

Rogan pulled the sheets up to cover my nakedness, his gaze wildly scanning the room. "I didn't see any cameras. I swear I didn't."

I clutched the sheets against me and my heart began to thud even harder. "Neither did I."

The door opened and five men in white coats marched in. Jonathan came in last.

"Sorry to interrupt," he said. "But the reward level is officially over."

What had just happened with Rogan had been broadcast to the subscribers? Oh, my God. The thought made me sick.

"You said that I'd have privacy," I managed as my face grew warm with embarrassment and anger. "It was part of the reward."

His expression was grim. "You must know by now that I'm a liar, Kira. There is no privacy in this game. Get dressed."

He nodded at one of the men, who then threw a pile of clothes at us. But they weren't the clothes I had before: cargo pants, tank top, and my stolen red sneakers. These clothes were new and black, with black boots that hit the floor by the bed.

"You have three minutes," Jonathan said. Then he turned around and left the room.

"Fuck," Rogan said under his breath. "Kira, I'm sorry. I didn't see any cameras. I honestly thought we were alone. Stupid of me."

"How do we get out of this? You created this show. How does a competitor get off it?"

His mouth straightened into a thin line and he slid his hand into my hair. "Used to be just by losing, but now there are only two ways off the show: winning or dying."

He swung out of the bed and grabbed at 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.

"You look like a superhero," I said.

"If you say so." He met my eyes, then leaned over to snatch the rest of the clothes off the floor. He threw 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 superhero."

He raised an eyebrow. "What the subscribers want, the subscribers get."

"Christ."

My costume consisted of a pair of thong panties. A skimpy bra. A short pleated skirt that barely covered my ass. 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 bedsheets, I slowly put on the clothes.

Rogan eyed me when I was done. "It's wrong that I think that outfit's hot, right?"

I glared at him. "This is no time for jokes."

He was fighting to keep a grin off his face. "You'd be beautiful no matter what those bastards made you wear."

Then he bent over and kissed me. I wrapped my arms around his neck and held on to him tightly.

"We're in this together," he whispered against my lips. "Don't ever forget that."

I kissed him again. "Easy for you to say. You're not wearing the thong."

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."

"Why?" I asked warily.

"Because somebody wants to meet you."

I chewed my bottom lip. "Not really in the mood to meet anybody right now."

"That's too bad. Gareth, however, doesn't grant an audience to just anyone. Consider it a great privilege afforded to no one else."

Rogan tensed and he grabbed my hand. "I'm coming with her."

"No," Jonathan said, and he had his remote control out. "You're not."

He pressed a button and Rogan cried out in pain before he fell to the floor in a heap.

I collapsed beside him and touched his face to assure myself he was only unconscious.

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 is 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 dragged me kicking and screaming from the room.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

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 in my parents' DVD collection of old movies. The men in white coats shoved me into the room and slammed the door behind me.

Gareth, unlike the room, was all in black. I restrained myself from rolling my eyes at the appropriateness of that color. After all, he was the bad guy in this piece, right? He must have personally chosen our new Countdown uniforms. I tried to stop myself from pulling the skirt down to cover the bared tops of my thighs.

If I weren't so damn angry I'd be embarrassed.

Gareth Ellis was a handsome man-but how could he be anything else with Rogan as his brother? They looked very similar. I couldn't tell which of them was older. There must have been only a year or two between their ages. Gareth's hair was a shade lighter, a lot shorter, and he was clean shaven. If Rogan was currently sporting the convict-chic look, his brother was all about business. Very crisp. Very professional. Very suave and perfect.

His eyes were also the same color as Rogan's-a jarring ocean blue-green.

Yeah, there was no doubt that they were truly brothers.

"Kira," he said. "Come sit with me."

"I'll stand, thanks."

"I wasn't asking you; I was telling you." His expression hardened for an instant, but then a small smile appeared on his lips. "If you please."

Okay, so this wasn't going to be fun.

Without taking my eyes off 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 resting on everything from my hair to my cheeks to my nose, lips, neck, and the rest of me visible above the white tabletop.

"Do you like your new outfit?" he asked.

"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 fucking crazy if you think I'm enjoying your sick little game."

He cocked his head to the side. "You were enjoying it half an hour ago. Quite vocally, in fact."

I clenched my fists at my sides. "Go to hell."

He smiled thinly. "A girl with a bit of spirit. It's refreshing, actually. Most of the women I meet nowadays are so wrapped up with the desire to go to Offworld that they'll say anything if they think it could help them achieve that goal."

"I guess I'm not most women."

He didn't reply, but continued to study me in a way that made me extremely uncomfortable.

"So what now?" I asked. "Are you going to stare at me all day?"

"Just trying to see what my brother sees in you, while he was at one time a ladies' man, he never settled for only one. In fact, he preferred dozens. He used women for their bodies and they used him for his money. It made things very simple."

I just looked at him.

"Have you fallen in love with Rogan?" he asked. "Or was it just sex?"

"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 love life. So, sorry."

He raised an eyebrow. "I know that he told you what happened."

"Are you going to try to deny it?"

He shook his head. "No. Rogan got in the way of The 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.

"Are we done here?" I asked blandly.

"No, we're not." He stood 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 shit what you believe."

He hit me hard across my left cheek. I hadn't even seen it coming. I pressed my hand against my face and looked up at him, the shock quickly changing to anger.

"I believe that you are a liar and a thief, Kira. Four weeks ago you picked my pocket on the street. You took my wallet, removed the money from it, and threw the rest away. I followed you and saw the squalor that you lived in. But I liked the way you moved, the sheer desperation in your actions. I knew you had what it would take to be on The Countdown. And then I asked my employees to research you. We got a sample of your DNA, and I know more about you than you probably know about yourself. I analyze, Kira. I analyze and I study and I learn. And I use all of that to help The Countdown grow stronger and stronger and better, and better until one day it will spread itself across all of this city, this world, and Offworld itself." He leaned forward and banged his fist against the table. "Are you listening to me?"

I blinked heavily. "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 Gareth it wasn't pleasant, and there was something much darker behind it.

"You truly believe you are a psi? If you had any significant abilities at all you would be in a study program Offworld. 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 when my heart was beating so fast I was afraid he'd be able to hear it. He didn't believe that I had my flex. I was surprised Jonathan hadn't confirmed that to him yet.

"So all you have is your ability to compete on The Countdown. You should be thanking me."

I blinked. "Thanking you? You're kidding, right?"

"You dream of going Offworld. With your means and background, winning The Countdown is the only way you'll ever achieve that goal, and my brother's only chance to stay out of prison."

I gripped the side of the table so hard my fingers felt numb. "Why did you frame Rogan for something he didn't even 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 bit my lip. "Whatever."

"But now that you brought him up, I have a little proposition for you. Something that, now that the two of you are lovers, will make for an interesting side challenge."

I glared up at him.

He drew closer to me and I could smell his expensive aftershave. "There is very little chance of your surviving to the end of The Countdown. In four years we have had nearly eighty pairs compete. Only one of those pairs finished to the very end to receive their ultimate reward. You will die, Kira. And I promise you it won't be pleasant."

"Fuck you."

He grinned and leaned back against the table. 'The subscribers seem to like you a great deal. It may have something to do with that little attitude of yours, maybe that little body that has been bared and exposed now for all to see and enjoy." His gaze slid down my new low-cut black top. "Maybe it's the growing relationship between you and Rogan, 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. "Oh, yeah, and what's that?"

He licked his lips and moved closer still until I could feel and smell his breath against my face past the musky scent of his aftershave. "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, along with the crimes he was in prison for, that he also murdered your family, and they want you to seek revenge for this."

I frowned hard and 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 audio portion of some of your little talks may have been temporarily unavailable. Technical difficulties, I'm sure. The subscribers are now wondering why you would let the man who killed your family fuck you on camera like a whore." He smiled. "But to each their own, I suppose."

I could barely control the fury that curled through me like fire. It burned the way my face still did where he'd struck me.

"I'm not killing him," I said evenly, trying like hell to keep my patience.

"If you kill him you will win the game and you will start your new life Offworld."

I steadied myself, trying to breathe normally, in and out, in and out.

This man couldn't be so horrible, could he? He was Rogan's brother. That had to count for something. But I'd never met anyone I hated more on contact, and I hated a whole hell of a lot of people.

He was sitting so close. Could I get a read on him? Could I push past my anger and frustration and concentrate enough to do it quickly?

If I had to, I would. And I did have to.

Breathe. Relax. Focus yourself.

He studied me with a small frown. "Are you certain that you refuse my offer?"

I breathed out and tried to still my mind. "Positive."

"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 and I grabbed his wrist and squeezed.

Please work, I prayed inwardly.

I closed my eyes and flexed.

Nothing.

I frowned. There was nothing but darkness and silence in his mind.

"What do you think you're doing?" he growled, but he didn't pull away.

I flexed deeper, 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. A small kernel of light hidden under so much black.

:::::::::Fear::::::::::

That was all it was. Just a small piece of fear smothered under a blanket of darkness.

My head began to ache but I ignored it. Gareth's arm was tight and he tried to pull away, but my grip was too strong. I dug my fingers into his flesh and sank deeper into his mind.

There was something else there. Something small and barely discernible.

Help me.. please. … Can you hear me?… You have the gift.. maybe … just maybe.. I don't know…

"I can hear you," I bit the words out past the growing pain and opened my eyes to look into Gareth's cool blue-green gaze.

"Let go of me before I call for my guards." He spoke quietly, but his words were edged with danger.

I felt so confused. "But you were-"

Listen … please listen … please listen to me, Kira…

I stilled myself and strained to understand the thoughts, words, images, projections that slid through my mind. They were very quiet, very distant… but very precise. Each word was like a knife in the soft recesses of my brain, and I steeled myself against the pain, trying to hold on for as long as I could.

Too much money spent on research… development… greed… too much… We created an artificial intelligence program… and it was perfect.. but my brother tried to destroy everything…. There was an energy surge… and a virus…. It got into the program … then into my implant.. my prototype implant…. It took over my mind.. my life.. It feeds on the game… on the brain waves of the subscribers…. It feeds like a leech,… It wants more…. It wants to take the game and the implants wider…. Offworld… It wants everything…. You must escape…. There is a way… a safe house…. You must take Rogan there…. Please … there's no time….

An image appeared in my brain-an address: 358 Paragon Avenue. It was a fleeting thought that I had to grab hold of and pin down before it faded away.

I'm sorry, Kira … so sorry. … There is nothing I can do…. Four years and the virus only grows stronger…. It has me…. It must be destroyed….

And then there were men in white coats in the room pulling me off of Gareth, but my fingernails scored his arm enough to draw blood. I was crying from the pain, shaking so badly that they couldn't keep me on my feet. I sank down to the floor 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 and my brain was oozing out. I had to reach up and touch it to know that wasn't the case.

The artificial intelligence program tainted with a computer virus that had possessed Gareth Ellis for over four years stood in front of me holding his injured arm, looking down at me. "Perhaps all is not explained by science after all."

I stared up at him. Did he know what had just happened? Did he hear Gareth's plea from deep within him?

He did. I could see it in his cold gaze as he looked down at me. He no longer looked amused with me, just annoyed. He leaned over and grabbed my face in his hand and squeezed hard enough for me to pay attention.

"If you know what's good for you, you won't share any of what you've learned with Rogan."

He let go of me and wiped his hand on his black pants as if to remove any trace of me from his stolen skin.

And then I was half dragged, half carried out of the white room.