LITMIR.BIZ

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      The world wasn’t ready for every facet of the NPT process. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

      A door opened and closed behind her, and Falco’s voice called, “Dr. Corning. Meg, wait!”

      She stabbed the elevator call button, hoping to escape before he reached her. But his hitching stride ate up the distance between them, and the glowing elevator light stalled on the eighth floor.

      He stopped beside her, loomed over her. “Not so fast. You and I are going to be spending some quality time together.”

      She glared. “I don’t think so. You heard Cage. I have seven days.”

      The elevator doors finally whooshed open, too late to do her any good. She set her teeth as they stepped into the empty car together. Falco hit the button for the ground-floor lobby before he said, “Yeah, and I’m going to stick very close to you for those seven days. Let’s just say I’ve learned my lesson when it comes to trusting women.”

      Fuming, Meg turned on him. “How dare you insinuate that I would ever—”

      The elevator jolted, throwing her against him. She gasped in alarm and reached up to push away from him, winding up with both palms flat against his hard, masculine chest. She felt his heartbeat, quick like hers.

      Something changed in his expression. “Look, I—”

      A grating, popping noise drowned out his next words. A metallic pinging reverberated through the elevator car. The lights died.

      And the floor dropped out from underneath them.

      Chapter Four

      Erik shouted and grabbed Meg. He tried to shield her with his body, but it was impossible. The danger was all around them.

      The elevator floor barely pressed against his feet as they fell, giving a sense of weightlessness even as nausea jammed at the back of his throat.

      He twisted, still holding Meg against his chest, and slapped the red Emergency Stop button beneath the main panel.

      Nothing happened.

      He punched the red button harder. “Engage, damn it!”

      The brakes locked. Metal screamed and sparks leaped up through the carpeted floor, which jolted and slowed its descent.

      Unbalanced by the sudden change in inertia, Erik crashed to the floor. Meg landed atop him, driving the breath from his lungs.

      “We’re still moving!” she shouted in his ear, panic cranking her voice to a shriek.

      “Hang on!” Erik tightened his arms around her and tucked her face beside his as the grating squeal of metal-on-metal intensified. The howling sound reverberated in his skull until—

      Crash!

      The impact slammed him flat. His head bounced off the carpeted floor and rebounded into Meg’s shoulder. He cut his lip between his teeth and her collarbone, and tasted blood. Her body dug into his and then sprawled away as a final crashing noise ripped through the small space.

      Then the cacophony died, leaving a strange, heavy silence broken only by the strident ring of alarms. A small, battery-powered emergency light provided wan illumination.

      They’d hit bottom. They’d survived.

      Erik let the knowledge work its way through him, partway expecting relief. He found anger instead. Red, bloody anger.

      That was no accident.

      It wasn’t until he heard the words echo in the noisy silence that he realized he’d said it out loud.

      Beside him, sprawled half over him, Meg moaned and stirred. Her elbow jabbed him in the ribs, and when she rolled off him, she shoved her knee against his bad leg, sending shooting sparks of pain to join the dizzy ache of impact.

      Erik buried the wince and turned to look at her. “You okay?”

      She levered herself to a seated position, then slumped back against the wall. Her orangey suit and tall black boots still looked as professional as they had when she’d first stepped into Cage’s office. But her red-gold hair had fallen from its slick knot, making her look less unapproachable. More vulnerable.

      She shifted experimentally before she said, “Everything works, if that’s what you’re asking. But no, I’m not okay. We were just…we just…” Her full lower lip trembled until she bit it and mastered the half-formed tears. “Sorry. I’m fine. How about you?”

      The sirens cut out then, leaving a chilly silence that was soon broken by thumps overhead.

      Far overhead.

      “No broken bones, and I’ll settle for that under the circumstances.” Erik grabbed his cane and used it to push himself up off the floor, which was tilted beneath them. He put a steadying hand on the wall and reached up to bang on the ceiling of the elevator car, where a body-size panel hung slightly askew. “Looks like this’ll be our way out. You want me to boost you up, or would you rather wait for an official rescue?”

      The thumping noises increased overhead as Meg’s eyes met his. “What if that’s not the official rescue?” she asked quietly.

      Then we’re sitting ducks, he thought. With the elevator lying at the bottom of the shaft, there was no way they were getting the main doors open. It was out the top or nothing.

      But the question remained… What if whoever had engineered the fall was up there waiting?

      He saw understanding in her eyes, a grim sort of fatalism that clashed with his impression of the woman. It made him wonder if there was more to her than the academic exterior she projected. His investigators had mentioned she’d been a bit of a hellion in her younger years, and concluded she’d outgrown the risk-taking behavior. Her quiet calm made him wonder whether she’d retained more of her skydiving, bungee-jumping past than she let on.

      Or, his suspicious side prompted, maybe she’s like Celia. Maybe this is all part of a plan.

      “Boost me up,” she ordered.

      He stared for a moment, as her image merged in his mind with that of another woman, lighter in coloring except for the red slash of her painted lips.

      Then he shook his head to banish the image. Celia was gone for twenty-to-life and had no place in his head. Meg Corning was nothing like her.

      Nothing at all.

      “I’ll go first,” he said finally. He motioned her to the corner as the banging continued overhead. “Watch yourself.”

      “You want a boost?”

      He bit back the automatic retort. “I’ve got it.” He poked the cane up with more force than necessary, sending the panel clattering out of the way. Then he wedged the rubber-tipped end on the metal handrail that looped around the elevator car, used the cane as leverage, jumped as high as he could manage, and grabbed the edge of the escape hatch with his free hand. Cursing with the effort, he dragged his upper body through the opening one-handed, then pulled the cane up after him.

      It wasn’t much of a weapon, but it was all he had left.

      Exertion sang through his bloodstream, sending his pulse into his ears. A quick glance showed him a lighted rectangle some twenty feet above, stark contrast to the darkness of the elevator shaft, which was lined with metal, cement and thick cables.

      A human figure stood silhouetted in the doorway. Another clung to the side of the shaft, maybe fifteen feet away.

      Erik stayed silent, though there was little hope of avoiding detection. With one muscle-popping surge of effort, he scrambled to his feet until he was standing atop the ruined elevator car with his cane in his fist, a weak defense against the dark shadow that dropped down the final feet separating them, landed heavily atop the elevator car, and clasped his shoulder.

      “You’re okay. Thank God.”

      Relief

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