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.”
Both men looked up as Zack and Emily approached. A quiver of fear went through him when they raised their shotguns.
“Hold it right there,” the first man ordered. “Show me your badges. Now.”
Zack reached into his coat for the ID he’d stolen back at the infirmary. The photo on the badge didn’t look anything like him, but all he could do now was hope the officer didn’t notice.
“Hell of a night for a code,” he said casually.
“Ain’t that the truth,” officer number two muttered.
Vaguely Zack was aware of Emily holding out her badge, the officer looking closely at it, his shotgun ready at his side. Zack unclipped his own badge and held it out. He tensed as the officer looked at it, then at him. “That’s not your photo,” he said.
“Sure it is,” Zack returned smoothly.
The second officer came around the metal detector. “There a problem?”
Zack laughed. “Says this photo doesn’t look like me. Guess I’m too good-looking for my own good.”
The man eyed him suspiciously. “Where you headed?”
For the first time Emily spoke up. “Sarge sent us to do a perimeter patrol of the parking lot. Keep an eye on the vehicles.” She glanced at her watch. “We gotta run, boys, so make up you minds if that looks like him or not.”
Frowning, the officer passed the badge back to Zack. “Go.”
Zack didn’t have to be told twice.
THE PERSONNEL TUNNEL TOOK them to the employee exit. Emily hit the push bar on the double door and shoved it open. The cold predawn air hit her like a blast from a freezer, and she shivered.
“Where to now?” she asked.
“Keep walking.”
But midway to the parking lot Devlin stopped, as if listening, and looked over his shoulder toward the prison. “This is too easy. They had to have seen us on the cameras.”
“If they’d seen us, we’d be in custody already,” she said. “The SORT team doesn’t mess around.” The SORT team was the prison system’s version of a SWAT team.
“Unless their intent isn’t to take us into custody.”
For a moment the only sound came from their boots sinking into snow as they jogged across the parking lot. Around them the January night was bitterly cold. The occasional
