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escaped the knot at the back of her neck. A bruise was forming on her right cheek. Her bottom lip was raw at the corner, as though she’d been repeatedly chewing on it. Dirt marred the white, sleeveless top she wore. The heel of one shoe had snapped off.
    “Nathan?” she whispered.
    “Yeah, it’s me. Are you all right?”
    A tear rolled down her cheek and splashed onto her shoe. “It’s not over.”
     

Chapter Four
     
    An icy knot had formed in Emilie’s stomach and sucked all the warmth into its core leaving her frozen and numb.
    Nathan Madigan knelt in front of her. His striking blue eyes and sculpted cheekbones belonged on a magazine cover. “Are you okay?”
    Was she okay? Covered in sticky, dried sweat, she was sitting on a discarded office chair in a dirty basement room. A crazy man had just tried to drag her into a damned hole underneath the bank. She definitely was not okay.
    “He said he was here for me.”
    “I’m sorry. I never dreamed there was an escape route.”
    A dry, hollow laugh made her already sore ribs hurt even more. “Why would you? You’re not some madman who apparently moonlights as a dirt-burrowing mole.”
    “Ms. Davis?” An expensive leather shoe tapped against the concrete floor.
    Emilie glanced up at the detective. His suit was tailored to fit his narrow shoulders, and his blue-striped, silk tie was a perfect complement to the pale yellow dress shirt he wore. His pink scalp glistened with perspiration under his thinning hair. He looked out of place in the dank room.
    “Detective Dalton Avery.” Avery cast a seething glance at Nathan. The negotiator’s sympathetic expression flashed to one of intense loathing.
    “Ms. Davis, did the partner say anything else?” Avery continued.
    Another SWAT officer appeared. “Metro wants us to help search.”
    “Right behind you.” Nathan rose to his feet. He was tall and broad shouldered, and the black SWAT uniform made him slightly intimidating. “Take care, all right?”
    “If it weren’t for you, I’d have lost it in there,” Emilie said. “Thank you.”
    “Don’t sell yourself short.” He wiped the moisture off his face with the back of his muscled forearm. “You helped keep everyone alive.”
    Emilie looked across the room where the door now rested against the wall. The hidden passageway emitted an eerie glow as police moved between the earthen walls.
    “Where does it go?”
    Even if the tunnel connected to the building next door, police had the area surrounded, so how did Creepy Guy intend to escape? Perhaps her mole analogy wasn’t far off—maybe the man was still underground, dodging the cops in some sort of dugout maze.
    “You should probably focus on answering Detective Avery’s—”
    “Nathan.” Emilie cut in. “I deserve to know, and I’d like to hear it from you.”
    Emilie’s skin warmed as Nathan’s eyes searched hers. “Please.”
    “The hole goes to a room with a distilling machine.” His gentle tone reminded Emilie of a compassionate doctor. “There’s a second tunnel. It leads to a sewer pipe.”
    “A sewer pipe? So there must be a manhole nearby, right?”
    “Probably. But it looks like this pipe was re-used when the storm drains were built in the nineties.”
    Dizziness swept over Emilie. “He was going to take me into the tunnels?”
    “Nate.” The shout came from above. “Truck’s loaded and waiting.”
    “Don’t think about the tunnels. Just tell Detective Avery everything you remember.”
    He offered her one last smile before retreating up the stairs, the sound of his heavy boots rumbling through the hallway.
    Everything she could remember. Right. All she could think about was the cavernous hole less than twenty feet away.
    Avery cleared his throat, his skinny face scrunched in frustration. “As I’ve already asked, did the partner say anything else?”
    “Which time?” A stinging jab of pain tore through Emilie’s shoulder. She must have fallen on it when Creepy hit