Jamar’s stomach clenched. His pulse beat erratically with a manictum thump, tum thump. His fingers fumbled with an antique-brass cylinder as he spun the dial, struggling to decode the cipher.
“Hurry,” Taylor hissed. “We have less than three minutes.”
“I’m trying!” He licked at the sweat that formed on his upper lip and attempted a different combination.
“Do you want me to try?”
“I’ve got it,” he said. Shit. Maybe he had it. He was so nervous you’d think someone’s life really did depend on him solving this stupid riddle.
When Taylor had suggested an escape room for their first official “date,” he hadn’t considered he might develop permanent anxiety from it.
Prolonged side effects notwithstanding, tonight’s date was necessary. Chatter surrounding their new romance had increased throughout the day, even popping up on a few gossip sites. Screenshots of the video of him and Taylor at the grocery store had started circulating on Twitter and Instagram, accompanied by mounds of speculation about their relationship.
Unlike Alec Mooney, the general public had not automatically jumped to the conclusion that he’d hired Taylor as his personal trainer. The consensus seemed to be that Taylor had sought him out instead of the other way around.
His new girlfriend hadn’t appreciated that. She’d gone on a tirade after today’s workout, raging about how women were always labeled gold diggers, and why couldn’thebe the one who’d pursuedherbecause she was “such a fucking catch.”
Jamar had to agree with her on that one.
After her rant, she’d settled down long enough to recognize how this could work in their favor. The more off base the public rumors, the more likely they would succeed in keeping his attempt to return to the League a secret. Taylor had suggested they become evenmorevisible as a couple as a way to feed the gossip beast, thus their jaunt to downtown Austin tonight.
Jamar should have known she wouldn’t have settled for a simple dinner and movie for their first date. Instead, she had him sweating like a cat burglar about to get caught while they tried to save some fictional prisoner.
The clock on the wall began to tick louder. That wasn’t just his imagination; the volume on the damn thing really had increased as the seconds ticked down. He secured the last letter on the dial and felt the pin holding the lock in place give way.
“Thank God,” Taylor said. She snatched the cylinder from his hands and slid the rolled-up paper out of it. She unfurled it, then quickly handed it back to him. “Here! I’m too nervous to read it.”
Jamar sighed as he took the scroll from her hand.
“Read it!” she urged.
He stretched out the scroll. “Congratulations on solving this riddle. Your next mission is to find the one thing that has hands but cannot clap. Fail to locate it and your subject dies.”
She gasped, horrified. “Oh my God!”
“Taylor, you do realize this isn’t real, don’t you? No one is dying.”
She smacked him with the cylinder. “Get in the spirit of the game. We have to find the thing with hands.” She turned to one of the many cluttered shelves in the small room. “Do you see one of those creepy dolls? This seems like a place that would have a creepy doll in it. They have hands.”
“It’s not a doll,” he said.
“Are you looking for clues?”
He would have laughed at the panic in her voice if he wasn’t still wiping the sweat from his hands after that last riddle. But his heart rate was beginning to return to a safe level. He could think with a clearer head.
“What are we looking for again?” Jamar asked.
“It says to find the one thing that has hands but cannot clap. Oh, I know! It’s the clock,” Taylor said. She pointed to the loud, annoying clock above the door.
Jamar reached up and grabbed it, then flipped it over. There was an envelope taped to the back of it.
She took it from him and did a little dance as she removed the envelope and lifted the flap.
“ ‘Congratulations. You have saved your subject and earned your escape. Punch this code into the keypad to enjoy your freedom and a twenty percent discount on your next adventure to the Escape Room.’ ” She winced. “That’s a bit tacky, but whatever.”
She entered the code into the electronic keypad and stood back as the door opened to the lobby they’d first entered.
“Congratulations on escaping,” the attendant who’d checked them in called from the desk in a bored voice. “Do you want to schedule your next visit?”
