Nerve (25 page)

I swallow. “Fine, then get out. Just you.”

The man leans against the elevator wall, crossing his arms and kicking a leg out. He smiles, actually smiles. The bastard. “You won’t shoot me.”

I prop my foot in the elevator in case the doors decide to close again. Should I force one of the others out? They’re all equally deserving. But this guy’s smugness is more than I can tolerate.

I steady my aim. “But these bullets are fake, right? So why not shoot? Nothing will happen.” I cock the gun.

He licks his lips. “Part of the fun is not knowing just how real the weaponry is. But I’d take bets on what you will or won’t do with it. Violence is not in your profile.”

I nod. “Do you really want to bet that my profile isn’t a whole hell of a lot different than it was a few hours ago? If I find out that any of my friends have been hurt, it won’t bother me a bit to aim for parts of your body that are near and dear to you. So, c’mon.”

He glances down at his groin and then looks up with a smile, which sends my creep-o-meter sky high. “Don’t threaten me, little girl.”

“One,” I say, aiming for his knee.

A chunky woman next to him gives his elbow a nudge. “Just go with her. NERVE will square things away. They don’t want to lose their biggest supporters.”

His face goes scarlet. “Shut your bovine mouth.”

“Two,” I say, moving my gun sight up his leg. The door starts to close until I kick against the side, causing it to bounce open again.

The man stares venom into me.

“Fine,” I say, tightening my finger on the trigger. “Thr—”

“Okay, you little bitch.” He strides forward so quickly I’m afraid he’ll grab my gun.

“Slower! Or I’ll shoot you now. Trust me, it’ll feel good after what I’ve been through.” Surprisingly, at that moment, I believe it would. And he must see it in my eyes, because he does as I say. God, what have I become?

I back up as he exits the elevator and glowers before me. We stand face-to-face until the elevator doors close. His skin is taut, like he gets regular facials, and those “casual” pants cost at least five hundred dollars. All that money, and he wastes it on perverted entertainment. Making him squirm will be a pleasure.

“We’re going back to the room,” I say. “Walk.”

I let him take a few steps in front of me, and he opens the ornate door. Inside, it’s still dark, but the light from near the elevators shows Ty, clutching his arm and stumbling in the reception area. He must’ve gotten turned around in the dark. His face breaks into a smile when he sees us. I squint, trying to see into the blackness of the corridor behind him, but it’s a void.

I step behind the man. “Go back, Ty, or I’ll shoot this guy. He’s one of NERVE’s high rollers, even had a cameo on one of our dares. So you can forget about winning any prizes if he gets hurt.”

Ty laughs. “Who do you think you’re kidding?”

The man straightens. “Do not even think about taking one step out of there. If she shoots me, there’ll be hell to pay for all of you.”

“But—” Ty falters. “My arm is—”

“Now,” the man says, clearly used to giving orders.

“Who got shot?” I ask.

“I didn’t bother checking,” Ty says. Asshole.

I peek around the man’s side to make sure that Ty starts heading back down the corridor. Something dark drips from his elbow. Well, he knows where the first aid supplies are. From somewhere in front of him come the sounds of shouting and thrashing.

“What’s next, princess?” the man asks.

“Prop the door open quickly,” I tell him. We need the light.

He does.

“Now walk through the waiting area and down the hallway, toward the room. No quick moves, but don’t drag your ass either.”

He struts forward. I keep a few paces behind him, pointing my gun at his butt and shining the light from my phone. Every few steps, I peek around him to make sure no one else has entered the hallway. Yells come from the game room. Has NERVE sent in reinforcements?

I call out, “Syd, Tommy, Ian, are you guys okay?”

“We’re fine,” Sydney shouts back. “As long as psycho girl doesn’t shoot the ceiling anymore.”

A breath explodes from my chest. Thank goodness. When we get to the room, I say, “Go back inside, Ty.”

“Why? I thought you wanted the game to be over.”

“Do it,” the man says.

Ty ducks through the cave-like opening in the glass. Even though the lights are out in the game room, the panels above the one-way window reveal various images in muted shades of green, confirming my earlier suspicion that NERVE was filming us with night-vision cameras. Micki and Ian pick themselves off of the floor, where they must’ve been wrestling. They cock their heads my way, as if they’re trying to make out what’s going on here in the corridor.

“What the hell?” Micki crouches so her eyes are even with the hole. Why didn’t she follow Ty out? Does she think there’s a chance the game will continue as long as she remains inside? What kind of prize did they offer her on top of the Harley? Ownership of a dog-fighting emporium?

My voice is steel. “Ian, Tommy, and Sydney, c’mon out.”

Micki straightens up and grabs a gun from Jen. “My next shot won’t be a warning.” On one of the panels above, I see her aim at Syd.

The man speaks up. “If you don’t do as Vee instructs, none of you will receive any prizes. I can make sure of it.”

Ty pokes his head back through the opening. “Who are you, like the NERVE boss?”

“No, but they’ll want to keep me happy, I assure you.”

There’s silence. No doubt they’re waiting for NERVE to confirm what the man said. But NERVE’s probably too busy assembling an army. The panels remain focused on the players in the room.

Micki’s voice is harsh and she still aims at Syd. “Doesn’t seem like anyone’s backing you up, Mr. Investor. Maybe they don’t care if you get shot.”

The man begins to tremble. “But I care. And I have the means to make sure you earn your prizes.”

There’s movement and murmuring in the room.

Ty speaks up. “How can you guarantee it?”

“If she shoots me, I can guarantee you won’t get anything. And if she doesn’t, I always reward those who assist me. Just as I punish those who don’t.”

Micki’s snarly voice rises. “But we’re the ones with the guns. Maybe NERVE just wants us to shoot you ourselves. And then Virgin and her friends.” She turns to point her gun through the opening in the wall at the man.

Ian says, “Are you high? Whatever happens in this room will be broadcast. And stored on video. You want to spend the rest of your life behind bars, or as the bitch of whoever owns the video so you can avoid prison time?”

I steady my aim. “Besides, we’d shoot back, which would be self-defense. Not that it matters, since I don’t see any cameras out here in the hallway. I’m the only one not being filmed.” My voice is hard and my veins are like ice.

Ty says, “I don’t know.”

“Well, I do,” I say. “I’m done playing. I’m giving this asshole the punishment he deserves. And screwing you guys out of winning anything at the same time.”

The man’s body stiffens. “I’m pulling out my wallet. It’s filled with cash and credit cards. Use them.” He takes out the wallet and sets it on the floor.

Micki stares at the hole in the wall, probably calculating whether she could dash through and beat my head in before I shot the guy. Or her.

Tempted as I am to prod her, I let her think. She may be vicious, but I don’t believe she’s stupid.

And then her shoulders slump and she lowers her gun. “Get out of here, shitheads.” Jen tries to hug her, but she shrugs away.

A few moments later, Tommy ducks through the opening, followed by Syd and Ian.

Before we head out, I motion toward the man’s wallet. “Take out your driver’s license.”

“Why? You can’t buy anything with that.”

No, I can’t. And I wouldn’t. The thought of buying any prizes with this creep’s cash makes me ill.

I say, “Just do it.” Now he can see how it feels to have his privacy invaded.

He kneels down to remove a card before placing the wallet back on the floor. In the limited light from my phone
and the overhead panels, I can’t tell for sure if it’s his license or a membership card to Pervs Anonymous, but he has to know I’m not fooling around. He stands up and holds it out toward me.

No way I’m getting close enough for him to knock the gun from my hand, so I have him hand it to Tommy. With me in the lead, but walking backward so I can keep my gun trained on the man, we march out. Ian brings up the rear, pointing his gun at the man from behind.

Out by the elevators, I kick up the doorstop and yell, “Anyone leaves before we’re out of the building and this guy gets shot in the ass.” No one ever died from a butt shot, I tell myself. As I slam the door shut, I imagine hands in the dark grabbing for the man’s wallet.

Ian reaches to press the button for the VIP elevator, but I shout for him to stop. “This whole lounge has been taken over by NERVE. If they send backup, or those chauffeurs down there are armed, they’ll come through the private entrance.”

Ian hits the button for the “housekeeping” elevator. We all jerk upright when the bell rings, our wary eyes waiting to see whether someone’s headed our way. The doors open to an empty car. Thank God. But I’m still not convinced NERVE won’t have a firing squad waiting for us below, even in the dance club.

As we move toward the elevator door, the man asks, “Are my hostage duties complete?”

I pause. If we run into someone from NERVE, will this guy give us leverage? I don’t think so, or they would’ve rescued him already. On the other hand, if there are police below, paid off or not, it won’t look good for me to be dragging a hostage at gunpoint.

“You can stay up here,” I say.

We get on board, and I hit the button marked “Club,” saying a silent prayer that we don’t need an access code to go down.

The door closes and the car moves. As soon as it does, Sydney and Ian collapse onto me in a group hug. It hardly seems real that we’ve escaped from that room. How long before the other players finally give up and leave?

Over Syd’s shoulder, I spy Tommy looking uncomfortable in the corner. I feel a pang of sympathy for my wingman, even though he filmed me during the dare at the school theater. But he came to rescue me, right? Once Sydney and Ian let me go, I approach Tommy and give him a hug too. He seems surprised, but grabs me in an embrace that isn’t too awkward until I lose my balance and shove an arm into his side. A vibration suddenly shudders at his hip. I jerk my arm away. What the hell?

Tommy takes a step back, and pushes me away from his body. His face flushes and his eyes dart down to his hip.

I grab at him. “Your phone works. I just felt it. Answer it!”

His mouth smiles, but his eyes don’t. “They must’ve just
turned it back on.” He pulls the phone out of his pocket with shaky hands and reads a text.

I check my own phone, which still comes up as blocked, and I tell Ian and Syd to do the same. All blocked, except for Tommy’s, even though we’re in an elevator.

“Why aren’t you calling 911?” I ask.

He fumbles with the phone. “Uh, yeah. I will.”

“C’mon, how hard is it to press three numbers?” And why is he so hesitant? Then the chaos of the past few hours seems to settle in my brain, leaving a clear trail to what I hadn’t seen before now. “Where are the police, Tommy? Did you even call them?”

He stares at his phone. “Of course I did. They must’ve gotten the wrong address or something. GPS isn’t as exact as people think.”

“But you are.” Everything that happened tonight sharpens into crystal focus, like that one-way glass into the room. “Give me your phone, Tommy.”

He pokes at the display. “I said I’d call.”

“Humor me.”

“Humor me,” he mimics in a high voice. “You sound like a character in one of those plays you couldn’t get cast for.”

“I want the phone now, Tommy.”

“Give it to her,” Ian says. He presses the close button to keep the elevator doors from opening.

“Shut up.” Tommy wipes some sweat from his forehead.

“Vee, I came here to bail you out and you don’t trust me?”

“I don’t know what you came here to do. But the fact that you didn’t come with the police was stupid. Stupid isn’t in your profile, Tommy. Neither is daring. But calculating is. I’ll bet you’re the one who told NERVE about why I was mad at Sydney. Liv and Eulie never would’ve betrayed me like that. And how many people could’ve told NERVE about the sticker on my car’s stereo knob? You asshole!”

He sneers. “As if I’m the biggest asshole tonight.” He shakes his head in disgust.

The flame within me goes white. And then in a martial arts move I’d rehearsed with Sydney when she had a role in that ninja play, I slice my leg through the air and sideswipe him in the crotch.

When he goes down, I grab the phone out of his hands. It’s loaded with texts from NERVE, confirming my suspicions. “Son of a bitch. You betrayed me for a big-screen TV?”

He looks up at me with bloodshot eyes. “Screw the TV. We’ve got three at home. You aren’t the only one tired of living backstage.”

I stand as close to the door as possible and enter the numbers that will end this. Tommy doesn’t move from his corner while I tell the police about the guns in the VIP lounge.

“Told you he was full of shit,” Ian says.

Tommy slams the wall and scowls at Ian. “NERVE only
chose you instead of me because they knew you’d break Vee’s heart.”

Sydney cocks her head at Tommy. “You tried out too? How come no one mentioned that you posted a video?”

Tommy glares at her.

I can barely keep myself from spitting on him. He screwed me over because NERVE picked Ian instead of him? Pathetic.

Ian lets the elevator door open to a nondescript corridor. Peeking my head out, I see a nearby door that throbs with deep bass and another door at the far end of the hall. I duck back into the elevator to demand the NERVE investor’s driver’s license from Tommy, who throws it at me. I tuck it into my pocket and exit into the hallway with Syd and Ian.

As the elevator doors close, I say over my shoulder, “Game over, Tommy.”