Countdown. Michelle Rowen

Чтение книги онлайн.

      Chapter 5

      I OPENED MY eyes slowly and blinked until everything came back into focus. Along with my vision, my anger returned in full force.

      I absolutely hated the idea of somebody out there with their finger on a little button that could cause me pain like that. However, I did like the idea of finding whoever was in charge of that little button and giving their groin a nice, sharp introduction to my knee.

      My head hurt. Badly. But at least I still seemed to be in one piece.

      I glanced around and realized I was somewhere more populated. Not another empty, clinical room. I could hear voices. There was a faint sound of clothes swishing and rubbing together as a few people passed, nearby but out of sight.

      There was a heavy weight pressing on my shoulder, and I slowly realized that it was Rogan—specifically his head. He was still out cold and currently using me as a pillow. We were both sprawled against a wall like a couple of homeless people. Pretty accurate, really. But this wasn’t the street. Linoleum tile felt smooth and cool against my hands. We were inside. Somewhere.

      I know this place.

      And then it dawned on me.

      We were in the mall a few blocks north of the village. One of my main haunts. The same place I’d been when this nightmare first began—when I’d stolen my new pair of shoes. I looked down at my feet to see that the bright red sneakers were still there.

      I jostled him. “Rogan.”

      He didn’t wake up.

      I moved my hand to the back of my head and took a moment to feel the incision mark. Then I felt for the same thing on Rogan. His dark hair slid through my fingers.

      Strange. I felt not one but two incision marks on his scalp. Why were there two?

      He appeared so innocent while asleep—and very nearly handsome. His eyelids fluttered, and I wondered what he was dreaming about. I looked closely at the scar on his face, and traced the line with the tip of my finger.

      “Are you really as much of an evil bastard as they say you are?”

      I glanced around the hallway. No one was within spitting distance, and as far as I could see, neither were the flying digicams. I wasn’t sure how long this fleeting moment of privacy would last.

      I felt at his throat for his steady pulse, warm and alive beneath my touch. Then I slowly trailed down to his collarbone and under the edge of his ripped T-shirt to press my hand against his chest. Skin to skin. And I opened myself up to whatever it was I could do.

      I didn’t think I was psychic or anything. But then, it couldn’t be my imagination. The pain made it real. Before, on the street, I hadn’t sensed anything from Rogan but a jumbled mass of...something.

      Something.

      I needed to know if I could do it again. If I could figure it out, get more this time. If I could get some sort of sense of just how bad Rogan Ellis really was and how much I should hate his guts.

      All I knew for sure was that bad guys had this bad vibe that was impossible to ignore when I did this, like a cold blanket of darkness that sucked the warmth right out of me.

      I didn’t know what this strange ability of mine actually was. What it meant. But I needed it to work.

      I closed my eyes and tried to concentrate.

      Then I suddenly found my hand in his as he pulled it away from his chest. “Hey—I’m out for a few minutes and you suddenly can’t keep your hands off me?”

      I scowled at him. “Hardly.”

      A glimmer of amusement lit up his ocean-green eyes. “Then what were you doing?”

      “Just making sure you weren’t dead. FYI...you’re not.”

      He gave a humorless laugh and glanced around wearily. “Where are we now?”

      “We’re in the mall.”

      “The mall,” he repeated with a frown. “Why are we in the mall?”

      I reached back to feel my incision again. “We need to get these implants out.”

      Rogan grabbed my wrist. “Don’t do that.”

      “Why not?”

      “You can’t tamper with it or it will kill us.”

      “Who told you that?”

      “Nobody. But it makes sense, doesn’t it?” He rose to his feet and held out a hand to help me up. I ignored it and got up on my own.

      “You have two incisions. Does that mean you have two implants?”

      He СКАЧАТЬ