Operation: Midnight Tango. Linda Castillo
is,” the doctor said.
Emily lunged toward the alarm panel. Two sets of hands closed around her biceps and yanked her back.
“Let go of me!” She lashed out with her feet.
“This will be easier for you if you cooperate,” Underwood said. “Tell us what Devlin told you.”
She looked over to see Dr. Lionel thumb the cap off the syringe. “Keep that away from me!” she yelled, hoping she didn’t sound as terrified as she felt.
“We’re not going to hurt you, Emily. This is just a little thiopental sodium to help you tell the truth.”
Truth serum, she thought with a burgeoning sense of horror. “You can’t do this.”
Grabbing her arm, the lieutenant shot an irritated look at the doctor. “Inject her, damn it. We don’t have much time.”
The doctor raised the syringe. Emily had worked for Lockdown, Inc. for three years. She had two commendations in her personnel file. Why didn’t they believe her? Why would they go to such great lengths to extract information when she didn’t have a clue what they wanted from her? What could possibly be important enough to risk Lockdown, Inc.’s reputation? Or even her life?
Just remember that things aren’t always what they appear.
Devlin’s words scrolled through her mind. She glanced at Dr. Lionel. The needle was about to penetrate her skin. Oh, dear God…
“The first man that moves gets a bullet for his trouble.”
The doctor froze. All eyes swept to the doorway. Zack Devlin entered, his gun leveled on Underwood. He looked at Emily. “You okay?”
“No.” She scrambled back, looked from Zack to Underwood, then back to Zack. “I want to know what’s going on.”
“You were about to become Lockdown, Inc.’s latest victim.” His gaze cut to Underwood. “Killing your own people now?”
“You’ll never get out of here alive,” the lieutenant sneered. “Nobody has ever escaped this prison and lived to tell about it.”
“I’ve always had a knack for breaking protocol.” Devlin’s mouth curved in a dangerous imitation of a smile. “Get facedown on the floor. Hands behind your backs. All of you. Now.”
“He’s a killer,” Underwood said to Emily as he got down on the floor. “Don’t believe anything he says. You’re through, Devlin!”
Ignoring him, Zack crossed to her and held out his hand. “Give me your cuffs.”
Numb with shock and the knowledge that she was about to cross the point of no return, she removed three nylon restraints from her belt and handed them to Zack. She watched as he secured the men’s hands behind their backs.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“Saving your life.” He shot her a sober look. “And mine. Come on.”
Underwood raised his head. “Don’t ruin your life, Emily. You don’t know who you’re dealing with. Zack Devlin is an Irish terrorist. A very dangerous man who’s murdered dozens of innocent people.”
Zack reached for her hand, but she stepped back, out of his reach. “I’m not going anywhere until I know what the hell is going on,” she said.
“They think I told you something.” He gazed levelly at her, his expression unreadable. “They were going to pump you full of truth serum.”
“Why did you come back?”
“Because after they injected you, they were going to kill you.”
Shuddering, Emily looked at the three men lying facedown on the floor. She’d known Marcus Underwood for three years. She couldn’t understand why a man of his stature would resort to such tactics. What could she possibly know that could be of value to him?
On the other hand, she’d seen the syringe. There was no doubt Dr. Lionel had been about to inject her with truth serum. Did they suspect Zack had given her some sort of sensitive information? Did they think she had smuggled that gun in and helped him escape? How was she supposed to make sense of any of this?
“You have to trust me.” Zack said the words with cold calm, but she heard the skitter of nerves just beneath the surface. “They’ll kill you if you stay.”
“Give me one good reason I should go with you,” she said.
He shot a pointed look at the clock on the wall. “For starters, in about thirty seconds all hell is going to break loose.”
Emily was absolutely certain all hell had already broken loose. She was wondering how the situation could get any worse when an explosion rocked the building.
Chapter Three
“Run!”
Zack didn’t wait for her to obey his command. Grabbing Emily’s hand, he dragged her from the locker room and into the main corridor.
A deafening alarm screeched intermittently, keeping perfect time with the blinking red strobes that ran along the walls. He tightened his grip on her hand and tugged her toward the personnel tunnel that would take them to the parking lot where a four-wheel-drive SUV waited, compliments of his contact at MIDNIGHT—a man Zack would happily kiss right now if he were around.
Unfortunately Emily was more interested in answers than running. Digging in her heels, she yanked her hand from his and turned on him, her expression frightened and angry. “What did you do?” she demanded. “What did you blow up? If you hurt someone—”
“I didn’t hurt anyone,” he cut in.
“I heard the explosion, damn it.”
“You heard a variation of a concussion grenade. All I did was add the timer. A lot of noise and smoke but no fire. It’s a diversionary tactic.”
“Why should I believe anything you say?”
“Maybe you prefer to go back in there with those nice men who were about to inject you.” Turning to her, he put his hands on her shoulders. When she tried to pull away, he squeezed just hard enough to make her hold still, listen to him. “Look, we don’t have time to discuss this. All you need to know is that you’re in danger. If we don’t get out of here pronto, they’re going to kill us.”
“Why?”
Because of me, he thought bitterly, and a hefty dose of self-recrimination rose inside him. The memory of Alisa’s death pressed into him with sharp, cruel fingers.
Shoving thoughts of the past back, he looked over his shoulder. “In a few seconds this place is going to be teeming with men who’ve been given orders to kill us on sight. If we don’t get through the personnel tunnel now, we’re toast.”
She looked pale and shaken despite the tough veneer she wore like a coat of armor. He could feel her shaking beneath his hands. Zack couldn’t blame her for being afraid, for not believing him. She thought he was a convict trying to escape. But he could tell she had good instincts. That those instincts were telling her to believe him. If he could only get her to listen to them.
“Trust me,” he said urgently. “I’ll tell you as much as I can once we’re safe.”
She didn’t pull away when he reached for her hand. They sprinted down the corridor at a reckless speed, rounded a corner and entered another hall. Ahead, two corrections officers manned the metal detector all personnel had to walk through to reach the tunnel.
Stopping abruptly, Zack lurched back, out of sight. “Damn it.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Metal detector.” He tugged the gun from his waistband, looked at it longingly, then tossed it into a darkened corner. “Let’s hope this goes the way I want it to.”