Quiet as little spy mice, Rebel and I hurry to the elevators. My heart races as we wait for one to arrive. I sincerely hope that Jeremy is already looping footage of an empty elevator car and disguising the location signal to make the guards think it’s still at lobby level.
As Rebel and I step inside, I hold my breath, swipe the fake ID card, and punch the button for sub-level two. The elevator moves swiftly, gliding past the lobby without a pause. When it gets to sub-level two, I fling an arm across Rebel’s chest before she can take a step forward.
She gives me a curious look, and I take a step back.
Nothing happens.
What? she mouths.
Maybe her weight is confusing the sensor. I pull her back with me.
Still nothing.
I swipe the card. Again. Nothing. Again.
“Shit.”
The pained look on her face is unmistakable. “It’s not working?”
I pull out my text and shoot Jeremy a message.
Rear doors wont open
Can u force?
I wait for what feels like an eternity, but it is only a few seconds.
Nothing in sec sys
Trying cmd cntrl
Which I interpret to mean he’s going to try accessing Mr. Malone’s computer to see if there’s anything he can do through there.
While we wait, Rebel gets impatient. She stomps to the button panel, triggering the front door to open. She jabs at the sub-level two button over and over again. When the door slides shut, she returns to the back of the car with me.
Nothing.
I have a bad feeling about this.
The rear door looks just as much like a wall as it did earlier tonight. I press my palms against the cool metal surface, trying to use the friction of my skin to force the door open. Without super strength it’s pointless.
“Let me try,” Rebel says.
She squints, focuses as she throws her whole power into moving the hidden door.
Not even a budge.
It’s as if they’ve welded the door shut from the other side.
For all I know they have.
My phone dings.
No good
Nothing about sekrit lvl anywhere
I groan and smack my forehead against the back wall.
Rebel lets out a growl to rival Dante’s and starts beating on every surface in the elevator. It’s not going to get us any closer to sub-level three, but Rebel needs to let out some of her frustration.
“Now what?” she snaps as she whirls to face me. “How do we get down to Deacon?”
“I don’t know,” I answer honestly.
Another text from Jeremy.
Guard on move
Get back upstairs
Our time is up. If we’d found Deacon, then it wouldn’t matter if the guards discovered we were missing. But we don’t want to raise any alarms. Not when we’re going to need access to the building again. The last thing we want is for them to lock the whole place down.
“We have to go.” I press the button for the third floor.
I shoot Jeremy a quick text asking him to stall Luther. Hopefully he can hold the other elevator long enough to let us get back to Mr. Malone’s office.
“You’re giving up?” Rebel throws me a fierce scowl as the elevator rises. “You’re just going to let them kill Deacon?”
I ignore the barb. “No, but it took me half the night to find this access. I don’t know how to make it work again, and I have no clue where to start looking for another way to get down there.” I watch the floor numbers tick by impatiently. “If Luther and Travis get a whiff of what we’re doing, neither of us will ever be allowed in the building again. And that will make it virtually impossible to get Deacon out.”
She crosses her arms over her chest, but doesn’t argue.
I glance at Jeremy’s response.
Can’t
He’s taking stairs
I mutter a foul curse. Think, Kenna, think.
“Do you have lip balm?”
“What?” she retorts. “Oh, I’m sorry. Are your lips getting chapped while my boyfriend’s twin is downstairs dying?”
I roll my eyes in exasperation. “Luther is taking the stairs,” I explain. “If we don’t have a good reason for not being in your dad’s office when he gets back…”
“Red flags and sirens,” she finishes. Without another word, Rebel hands over the tube she always keeps in her pocket.
I palm the cap and twist the balm all the way out. Grabbing the contents, I mash it between my palms until it forms a gooey, chunky paste. Without bothering to explain, I slide my palms over Rebel’s blond spikes, leaving little translucent blobs of balm throughout.
“Gross,” she says, but doesn’t stop me.
The display indicates we’re passing the second floor, so I grab her around the waist and tug her tight against my side.
“Put your weight on me,” I instruct. “And hang your head.”
She does, just as the doors open.
I quickly move us across the hall. There is a ladies’ room about three doors down. With the disgusting clumps in her hair, it should look like that’s where we’re coming from, like Rebel’s been hugging the porcelain throne.
We start a lopsided trek back to Mr. Malone’s office. Hopefully Luther will be too worried to wonder why we didn’t just use the private restroom en suite.
“And moaning,” I tell her. “Moaning would be good.”
Rebel belts out groans that sound like a dying cow.