Michelle Maddox - Countdown

"Are you trying to say that I was just a postprison piece of ass?" I said it jokingly, but inside I felt a twinge of something. I wasn't sure I wanted to hear his reply to that.

But my response didn't get the answer I thought it would. Instead of a hurried assurance, or another apology, I got a huge, deep belly laugh that made him roll onto his back.

I punched his shoulder. "It's not funny, you jerk."

He stopped laughing long enough to say, "Kira, you are definitely not just a … how did you put it? A postprison piece of ass?"

"So glad I amuse you." I forced myself to sit up and crossed my arms. "And just for the record, I don't regret it at all. Or at least, I didn't until now."

He reached for my hands again and brought them up to his lips. "God, even in this terrible situation-which quite honestly has capped off the worst years of my entire life- you have been one of the best things that's ever happened to me."

I felt something stir deep inside of me, and felt tears prick at my eyes, but it wasn't from sadness this time.

"Kira, I need to tell you something," he said, and when he raised his gaze to meet mine he wasn't amused anymore; he was deadly serious.

My stomach sank. "What?"

"I don't know how much time we have before they interrupt us." He scanned the room. "When you were meeting with my brother, Jonathan stopped by to talk to me." His jaw tensed. "He told me that if I killed you on camera that I could win the game. That I'd be free."

I blinked slowly and looked up at him. "And what did you say to that?"

"What did I say? I told him to go to hell."

I felt cold. "Gareth told me the same thing."

"That if you killed me you'd win."

I nodded.

He cleared his throat. "Well, since I'm still breathing, then I'm going to assume that you disagreed with that plan."

"I did."

A small grin elevated his mouth. "Is it wrong that I'm really touched that you don't want to kill me?"

I glanced around the room. "It's a little strange. But this entire situation is strange to start with."

"For over four years I've lived a life where everybody wanted me dead or tortured. Even Gareth, my own brother." His expression darkened. "Dammit. Why would he turn his back on me like that? I would have been there for him. If the situation had been reversed, even if I thought he was guilty …" He shook his head. "I can't see myself abandoning him like he did me."

God, I wanted to tell him. I wanted to tell him the truth so badly that it was like a huge, painful lump in my chest. But they couldn't know. They couldn't hear me.

"Where do you think the cameras are right now?" I asked.

"I don't know. They could be anywhere. As far as we know they're taping us right now." He pressed back into the bed and stared at the ceiling. "When I was in charge they were still handhelds. Now they're remote-controlled. In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if they had a bit of artificial intelligence programming in them; they move like they have minds of their own, don't they?"

My mouth felt dry. "You really think so? Like the robot?"

Like Gareth's implant? I thought.

"No, not exactly like that. Just enough that they can fly about on their own, keeping us as their focus. I got a good look at them last time, too. They have receivers on them. I'd be willing to bet that our implants are connected to the cameras somehow. And the cameras are connected to the game's network at Ellis Enterprises."

I pulled him closer so I could whisper into his ear, "Why can't we just run?"

He tensed. 'They'd know."

"So there's no way of getting away?" I was saying it so softly. If there were cameras hidden in the room I didn't want them to hear me.

"Not with those damn cameras around."

"Rogan," I whispered, quieter, "I need to tell you something. It's important."

"What?"

"You said that you didn't understand why Gareth would abandon you like that. Well, I know why."

"Why?" There was strain in the quiet word. "Tell me."

Just as I was opening my mouth to tell him the truth, words that would probably change his life, a loud alarm sounded, and the room we were in split down the very center, right through the middle of the bed. As if the entire thing were on wheels the room parted, and Rogan stared at me with shock as he moved farther away.

The roof rolled back, and instead of stucco it showed the cloudy skies overhead.

I realized with a sinking feeling-a feeling I'd gotten used to having on a regular basis in this game-that the motel room we'd been in was actually a set. All fake. All created to be the background for our "emotional pillow-talk scene." There must have been microphones all over the place. Hidden cameras. They'd probably been hoping for another explicit love scene, but instead when I was about to reveal Gareth's little secret they put an end to it again.

Why the hell was Gareth so intent on Rogan not knowing the truth? Would it really make any difference?

My side of the bed moved away from Rogan until we were stretching our ninety-foot rule to the limit. Any farther and I was going to bolt off the bed and start running toward him. The memory of the red stain on the roof where Mac's head should have been haunted me. I didn't want to die that way. Not after everything we'd been through.

"Kira!" Rogan called, and he jumped up from the half bed. Another step took him off the makeshift set and onto the pavement of yet another abandoned street. He looked around at the surroundings quickly before focusing again on me.

"Welcome back to The Countdown! Kira and Rogan are all rested up for this, the final level: Level Six."

Three silver ball cameras zoomed into view, bobbing and moving along the street. They got to Rogan first and circled him like a nest of wasps as he glared at them.

"Rogan Ellis never thought he 'd be one of the privileged few to reach the last level of The Countdown. Some of our original subscribers will recall that Rogan himself is the creator of this game, although it has improved a thousandfold since then in quality and excitement. If Rogan had any say in the matter, the game would no longer be available to entertain you, our glorious subscribers! Just before his incarceration for rape and nine counts of murder, he attempted to pull the plug on this show, but luckily he was stopped before any irreparable damage was done.

"Such is the case with Rogan. He is a selfish man. As a bloodthirsty hedonist, he cares only for his own pleasures, and it doesn't matter to him who might get hurt. In an early poll amongst our subscribers, Rogan received a 3 percent approval rating. This is as low as any contestant in the history of the game. It is obvious to anyone watching that despite his handsome appearance, a cold heart lurks beneath his chest. There is no humanity or possibility of redemption within this poor excuse of a man."

I wasn't close enough to see the expression on Rogan's face, but I was betting that it wasn't a happy one. This was what he'd been subjected to for all these years? This uncensored verbal hatred toward him? That must have destroyed something inside of him. All I wanted to do was take that pain away from him. I felt a small sense of pride knowing that I knew the real Rogan. That he was innocent. That he wasn't selfish or bloodthirsty. That he was wonderful in every single way.

And that was about the moment that I realized I'd fallen completely in love with him.

"Dammit," I said under my breath. "Not a good time for realizations like these, Kira."

That would explain why my heart twisted with every hurtful thing that was said about him. Why I felt his pain and all I wanted to do was hold him and tell him that it was all going to be okay.

I didn't even have to be using my flex to feel empathy for him. I felt for him because I was in love with him.