"People don't drown in elevators," I said aloud.

The water had reached my knees, and it was biting cold. It also smelled bad, like oil and chemicals and sewage. I pulled my computer from my briefcase, opened it, and tried in vain to get any kind of Internet signal. At least with the glowing screen open, it wasn't completely dark in the elevator. I looked at the ceiling, which was covered in wood paneling and tiny recessed lights, all out. Wasn't there supposed to be an escape hatch? Maybe it was concealed. I couldn't think of any way to get up there and search for it.

I waded to the side of the door and tried the phone panel again, as well as all the buttons, and nothing happened. Taking off one of my pumps, I used the heel to bang on the walls and shout for help for a few minutes.

By the time I got tired of pounding, I was submerged up to my hips. I was so cold that my teeth were chattering and the bones in my legs were aching. Except for the water pouring in, everything was quiet. It was calm everywhere except inside my head.

I realized I was in a coffin. I was actually going to die in this metal box.

I'd heard it wasn't supposed to be a bad way to die, drowning. There were worse ways to go. But it was so unfair — I had never done anything with my life that was worth putting in an obituary. I hadn't accomplished any of the goals I'd had at college. I'd never made peace with my father, not in a real sense. I'd never helped people who were less fortunate. I'd never even had decent sex.

I was certain that people facing death should be occupied with noble thoughts, but instead I found myself thinking about those moments in the stairwell with Hardy. If I'd gone through with it, at least I would have had good sex for once in my life. But I'd blown even that. I wanted him. I wanted so much. Nothing was finished in my life. I stood there, waiting for my eventual drowning not with resignation but milling fury.

When the water had reached the bottom edge of my bra, I was tired of holding the computer up, and I let it sink. It submerged and floated to the elevator floor in water so polluted you could barely see the glowing screen before it shorted out and went dark. It was disorienting, the cold blackness all around me. Huddling in the corner, I leaned my head against the wall and breathed, and waited. I wondered what it would feel like when there was no more air left and I had to pull water into my lungs.

The sound of a sharp bang on 1the ceiling caused a start that went through me like a bullet. I turned my head from one side to the other, sightless and scared. Bang. Scraping, sliding noises, tools against metal. The ceiling creaked, and the entire elevator rocked as if it were a rowboat.

"Is someone there?" I called out, my pulse thundering.

I heard the muffled, distant sound of a human voice.

Galvanized, I pounded the elevator wall with my fist. "Help! I'm trapped down here!"

There was a reply I couldn't hear. Whoever it was kept working on the top of the elevator, wrenching and prying until a raw shriek of metal filled the air. A portion of the wood paneling was ripped back. I flattened myself against the wall as I heard cracking and splintering, debris splashing. And then the beam of a flashlight shot into the dark elevator cab, bouncing off the water.

"I'm here," I said with a sob, sloshing forward. "I'm down here. Is there any way you can get me out?"

A man leaned into the elevator cab until I could see his face and shoulders illuminated by the reflected light.

"You should probably know up front," Hardy said, widening the opening with a grunt of effort, "I charge a lot for elevator rescues."

CHAPTER TWELVE

"Hardy! Hardy — " He had come for me. I nearly lost it then. In the wild torrent of relief and gratitude, there were at least a dozen things I wanted to tell him at once. But the first thing that came out was a fervent, "I'm so sorry I didn't have sex with you."I heard his low laugh. "I am too. But honey, there are a couple of maintenance guys with me who can hear every word we're saying."

"I don't care," I said desperately. "Get me out of here and I swear I'll sleep with you."

I heard one of the maintenance guys volunteer in a Spanish accent, "I'll pull her out."

"This one's mine, amigo," Hardy said affably, and he leaned farther into the elevator cab, one long arm extended. "Can you reach my hand, Haven?"

Standing on my toes, I strained upward. Our palms met, and his fingers moved downward to close around my wrist. But I was coated with slippery stuff, and my hand slid right through Hardy's grip. I fell back against the wall. "I can't." I tried to sound calm, but my voice was shredded. I had to stifle a sob. "The water's oily."

"Okay," he said quickly. "That's okay. No, don't cry, honey, I'm coming down. Stay on the side and hold on to the rail."

"Wait, you'll get stuck down here too — " I began, but Hardy was already lowering his feet and legs. He gripped part of the ceiling frame, eased himself down and hung for a moment. As he came into the cab with a controlled drop, the floor shifted and the level of water came up. I sloshed through the heavy water, leaping on him, climbing halfway up his body before he could even move.

Hardy caught me in a firm grip, one arm sliding beneath my bottom, the other strong and solid around my back. "I've got you," he said. "My brave girl."

"Not brave." My arms were locked in a death grip around his neck. I buried my face against him, trying to comprehend that he was really there with me.