Nicole Young - Kiss Me If You Dare

“Hang on! I’m coming!” I yanked on the rail and got back to my feet, racing to the steps.

A couple hardhats headed across the plant floor toward the commotion. I took the stairs two at a time, descending to the level of deafening turbines. Supersized gears and gadgetry whirred as the machines generated enough power to light up North America’s eastern seaboard. The steep run ended in an eagle’s nest suspended above the panorama.

With help from the steel toe of Simon’s work boot, Candice tottered over the platform rail, grabbing the ledge at the last moment, only to dangle above a distant floor. One less contender to worry about, Simon turned in my direction and came up the steps. I froze in panic. A single prod from his shoulder would be enough to send me flying. I gripped the rail with both hands and lashed out at his face with my foot as he came into range. But one deft hold-and-turn of my leg as he blew past left me clinging to the metal treads in pain.

“The professor was stupid to trust you.” I lashed out with words since my body was no longer cooperating.

“He was stupid to trust that Rigg woman.” Above me, Simon peered across the plant floor, leaving me to wonder about his words as I crept toward the dangling Candice.

Simon must not have liked what he saw coming his way. In a few short seconds, he was back in my face, one arm wrapped around my neck in a chokehold.

“Hostage time,” he said, his voice slithery in my ear. My heart raced. I blinked and closed my eyes even as he forced me up the staircase, a sharp object jabbing my ribs. I kept my mind on breathing, attempting to slow my metabolism down and drop my pulse to a reasonable level. Calm sea breezes and sandy beaches filled my inner vision, warding off the hostile hormones that would rob me of reason. Panic would not eclipse my memory this time. Whatever happened today, I would be a conscious witness. I would have perfect recall of every move, every decision. I would be in command of my mind and body. No paralyzing fear would overcome me today.

Serene beaches, beautiful sunsets, soft breezes, a loving God… I forced the images into my mind as we reached the plant floor. Three men with the CF logo on navy windbreakers huddled around my father, now looking up as Simon called to him.

“Get up, Russo. Majestic wants to kill you himself. Come quietly and I won’t kill your daughter.”

The men helped him to his feet. He groaned and hobbled our way.

“Stay back,” Simon said to the duo in hardhats as they surged after my father. A shot of pain in my ribs and I let out a holler. The men backed off.

I fought panic.

Lapping waves, pretty seashells, the cry of gulls…

Our backs were against the wall.

“Open it,” Simon said to my dad.

Dad pulled open a metal door.

We backed through and Dad closed it behind us. A few more steps and we were in some kind of tunnel. Rock walls looked patched in places, explaining why hardhats were in fashion at the plant.

“Dad!” Monique’s voice came from farther down the tunnel. They must have entered from another door.

“Stay back, honey,” my dad called.

“Are you okay?” It was Suzette’s voice this time.

Dad gave a loud exhale, his body tense as he kept up to the swiftly moving Simon. I tripped along, awkward in the stranglehold as we drew closer to the voices.

“We’ll be alright, Suz. Get to safety, hon. This guy’s a nut.”

“Watch your mouth, Russo.” Simon ground the sharp point of his weapon into my back.

“Ahhh!” I screamed in pain.

The tunnel angled up, making the going even more difficult as Simon dragged me by the neck.

We came to an intersection. Simon hesitated.

“Which way out of here?” he asked.

My dad looked at the two possible routes, eyebrows scrunched. A sign with the words EXIT lay on the ground, pointing in the direction we had just come from. I smirked at the thought of the girls staying one step ahead of us, knocking the exit sign off its fasteners, just to make Simon’s life more miserable-and hopefully shorter.

“The left tunnel,” my dad said after some thought.

A flash of headlights and the sound of a vehicle came from the gloom of the left tunnel.

“Then we’ll take a right.” By now Simon had my head tucked under his arm like a football, making it easier for both of us to move quickly.

“You can’t get out this way,” my dad said, huffing to keep up.

“Sure you can.”

Simon tightened his hold and I grabbed his forearm, trying to pry it away from my esophagus.

“I… can’t… breathe…”

Simon laughed. “Get used to it. It’ll be a permanent condition as soon as I see daylight.” Simon slowed as the incline grew steeper. He let out a chuckle at some private thought. “You have no idea how pathetic you looked sitting up on that roof all night.”

“You were the one who took the ladder?”

“You were way too comfortable in Del Gloria. You needed a little fear factor, a little prodding to get you moving. I couldn’t wait forever for you to go looking for your father. The ladder, the writing on the wall… you’re pretty slow.”

“I can see you messing with me, but Celia and Portia? They could have died in that fire.”

“Don’t blame that fire on me. I had nothing to do with it. I wasn’t trying to kill you, just get you moving.”

“If you didn’t start that fire… then who?”

“Like I said, the professor shouldn’t have trusted Alexa Rigg. I did warn him.”

“Ms. Rigg? What did she have to do with it?”

He gave a low laugh. “She was once known as the Debutante of Dublin. A dazzler by day but part of Dublin’s retribution bomb squad by night. She retired to the

U.S. to raise her daughter in safety. She was one mistake I’m sure old Ambassador Braddock paid for the rest of his life.”

My knee banged the tunnel wall as he dragged me around a corner.

“I’m only glad the Debutante of Dublin blamed you for Jane’s death instead of taking out her revenge on me,” he added.

My legs scrambled to keep up to Simon’s fast pace. “You killed Jane?”

“The professor was paying me to protect you. Majestic was paying me to track you. And Jane got in the way. She knew too much and was using the information to get more of the Braddock fortune. I could have cared less until she tried to get a piece of my action. You elbow in on a hit, you end up at the bottom of a cliff.”

I dug my fingernails into the skin of his hand. “That’s disgusting. It was Thanksgiving Day.”

He cried out in surprise and slugged my temple. “You’re right. I should have waited until it wasn’t a national holiday.”

I blinked back tears, determined to remain in control of my emotions during crisis. I craned my neck around, but all I could see was Simon’s chin. “Can we take a break? I can’t keep going this speed with your arm cutting off my air.”

He waved his weapon in front of my face. A thick, straight piece of wood, like the handle of a wooden spoon, sharpened to a deadly point. Simple, nonmetallic, and effective in gaining my cooperation.

We passed a couple signs on the wall. SURGE CHAMBER, said one. REFUGE, said the other. Both arrows pointed ahead.

“Which way, Pops?” Simon twisted my neck as he asked the question, earning a good yell.

My dad was bent over, catching his breath. “You can’t get out this way. I already told you.”

“Come on, old man. There must be an escape tunnel somewhere.”

Dad shook his head. “The refuge is where you go if the escape tunnels collapse. There’s food and water in there.”

“I feel a breeze,” Simon said, holding out a hand to catch the air. “Where’s it coming from?”