Deviation (Clone Chronicles #2)(76)

“My jailbreak. Something must’ve happened.”

“Titus called a press conference tonight,” I explained. “He’s going to start tattooing everyone with an ID number to make identity theft more difficult. The tattoos will look exactly like the Imitations’—my—design.”

Daniel whistles. “Bastard doesn’t waste time. He must be scared.”

“You knew about the tattoo being the same as Ven’s?” Linc asks.

Daniel’s foot catches and he stumbles. He swears loudly and then backtracks to the spot he tripped over. “Look, let’s just get out of here. I can tell you what you want to know when we’re safe.” He hands me the phone and uses both hand to grab onto something on the floor.

I shine the light downward as Daniel pries a small covering away to reveal another access panel. He presses the single button there and the ceiling slides open. Cool air hits my face.

“Almost there,” Daniel says and climbs out.

The hallway we’re standing in looks a lot like the one inside Rogen Tower. For a terrifying moment, I think we’re still inside the penthouse. That Daniel has somehow tricked us. Then, just as quickly the thought disappears. This hallway is too used, too dingy to be any part of the tower. The burgundy carpet at my feet is thinner than anything Titus owns and stained in several places. The walls are scuffed, and the smell of sweat and soap mingle in the stuffy air.

“Where are we?” I ask, wrinkling my nose.

“Housekeeping level. It’s two floors below Rogen Tower. It connects with the hidden basement. Come on.” Daniel leads us down the hall and I follow, matching his stance and staying close to the wall. Not that it would do us a bit of good if someone comes out of any of these doors. We’re completely exposed and there’s no denying that none of us belong here.

We pass a door marked “Laundry” and the hum of machinery buzzes from within. A pocket of warm air sneaks out from underneath, warming my toes. Daniel stops beside the door and pulls back on an access panel. The sign next to it says “Laundry chute.”

“No,” Linc says.

“What is it?” I ask.

Daniel ignores me in favor of arguing with Linc. “You have a better idea, samurai security man? We have to get out. We can’t use the front door. This is what I’ve got.”

“I’m not throwing her down a laundry tube. We have no idea what’s waiting at the bottom,” Linc says.

Daniel quirks a brow. “Uh, laundry?”

Linc scowls.

Despite his snappy words, I can see the fatigue lining Daniel’s eyes. His wounded arm hangs more limply at his side than the other. I can imagine the pain he’s in as my own arm pulses to the beat of my heart.

“Linc,” I say, laying a hand on his arm. “He’s right. There’s no other way.”

“Fine. But Ryan goes first,” Linc says.

I can see the argument brewing between them when a doorknob at the end of the hall wiggles violently. Whoever’s on the other side goes from impatient to furious and the entre door shakes with their effort. The hinges rattle ominously.

“Last one to the bottom gets the girl,” Daniel mutters. He shimmies into the tube and is gone.

As soon as Daniel is gone, Linc lifts me and sets me on the ledge. He presses a quick kiss to my temple as something heavy is thrown against the door behind us. I don’t even have time to worry about the fact that Daniel will very likely get a full view up my dress.

Linc shoves me and I fly.

The tube is slippery and smells of sweat and mildew but otherwise, it’s a smooth albeit speedy ride straight down. A scream slips out at the end when the tube abruptly cuts off and I freefall the last several feet. I land in a large laundry bin full of rumpled bedding and damp towels. I’m too relieved to be disgusted.

I fight my way free of the sea of fabric and manage to stand.

The orange lights overhead buzz as small bugs wander too close to their heat. We’re at street level in a crowded parking garage. Judging from the delivery vans and official signs posted, it must be an employee area. A sign advertising “Deliveries This Way” is posted above a set of bay doors which are thankfully closed at the moment. I don’t see any movement or weapons pointed but my relief is tainted with edgy anticipation. Emile—and who knows who else—is out there somewhere.

So far, it all feels entirely too easy.

Daniel helps me climb out of the large laundry bin. It’s an awkward struggle with me determined to remain decent. Finally, he lifts me up and pulls me free before setting me on my feet again. “Thanks,” I tell him, still breathless from the fall. For a moment, his exhaustion lifts.

“You’re welcome,” he says huskily.

I yank my hair out of my eyes as Linc comes hurtling through the opening behind me. Daniel takes a step away but Linc doesn’t even notice. He leaps from the cart to the cement flooring and grabs my hand. “Let’s go.”

We take off at a fast run that quickly debilitates to darting and then a slow jog. I’m not sure if the slowed pace is for Daniel’s benefit or mine, but I’ll take it. We weave in and out of vans and delivery vehicles for several aisles. I’m careful where I step. My heels would be better than nothing on this oil-stained concrete.

When we reach the last row of cars, Lin puts a finger to his lips and scans the exit ahead. A moment later, he signals and leads the way. We dart out from behind a white van and make for the street. Behind us, there’s a thunk as something—or someone—else falls from the laundry chute.