Two Can Play (Entangled Ignite) (12 page)

“So this advances your project. Very cool.”

“Nigel asked me to present Girl Power at a meeting in Seattle next week.”

“You’re going to Seattle?” He looked startled.

“For a few days, yeah.” She paused. Why the shock? Did he feel abandoned? “You’ll know your way around by then, but we can touch base by phone if you have concerns.” He didn’t strike her as the least bit timid. If he had a question, he’d ask anyone handy. It couldn’t be that he would
miss
her, could it?

She didn’t know what to do with that idea—or the twist of emotion it set off inside her. Would she miss him? How could she? They barely knew each other and so far he’d mostly
bothered
her.

“It’ll work out.” He seemed to shrug off his earlier reaction. “Congrats, Rena. You’ve got new digs, a big job, more status, and a boost for your project all at once.”

“I did.” She felt that stab of doubt again. “It’s a lot at once.”

He studied her. “You don’t think you deserve it?”

Don’t tell him. Don’t let him in
. She turned away, her gaze falling on the Lara Croft statue. Cassie loved Lara, too.
Cassie
. She felt such a rush of loss, such a hollow feeling, she had to say something. “I wish Cassie could see this.” She swallowed, so scared for her friend, but she couldn’t blurt that to a guy who might not even belong here.

“She’s a survivor,” Gage said.

It was as if he’d read her mind, and that startled her. “I keep thinking if I’d watched out for her more, she’d still be here.”

“I doubt that. Bigger forces were at play.”

She jerked her gaze to his. What did he know? He’d talked to Leland, she remembered. Had Leland said something about the theft? “What are you saying?”

He raised his hands. “I’m not giving attitude. Whatever she said or didn’t say to the reporter or whatever happened at work, it was up to her to handle. You’re not her keeper.”

“That’s the whole point. We
are
each other’s keepers. If I’d known what was happening…” She didn’t dare say more.

“Talk to her. Ask her yourself.” His eyes shone with urgency, as if this were as important to him as it was to Rena.

“Maya says that would mess with her recovery.”

“One conversation? Where’s the harm? To clear the air and say good-bye?”

She shot him a look.

“You just said you’re each other’s keepers. Go see her.”

She ached to see Cassie once more, but she had to do the hard thing for her friend’s best good. “I can’t. She has to hit bottom.” She moved a few steps away. “Anyway, if she were still here, she’d help me figure out Dome battles. When she’s not drinking, she’s a smart fighter.”

“Use me.” Gage dropped onto her bed, patting the velvet spread beside him, no come-on in his expression. “What did you have in mind?”

She sat on the edge of the bed, tentatively, keeping her distance, not quite believing he wasn’t going to go for more sex. “I wanted to work out planned battles…several fighters…performances really…”

She talked through her ideas, slowly at first, then faster as she got more into it. Gage asked questions that sparked new thoughts. He suggested using props, which led her to consider gymnastic moves, and on and on until her plan truly had shape.

What about her biggest problem? “If this is going to work, I need the best fighters. My girl Recruits will sign up, so we can showcase them, but we need Watchers and some of them won’t fight girls.”

“You said some Watchers are cool. Zeke, right?”

“Yeah. And Bull—the Watcher at Blood Electric—but they both work days. I’d have to get them released for practice. Bondurant can be an ass about schedule changes.”

“You’d practice during lag times, right? So ask the shift manager, not Bondurant. The shift manager would feel the loss.”

She blinked. “You’re right. Good idea. Thanks.”

“We arrogant assholes have our uses.”

“Evidently.” She studied him. He was sounding more like a Lifer. Maybe he would be okay after all.

“I have another idea,” Gage said. “You need your new tats, right? Forget a van. How about we go on my bike?”

“You don’t need to do that.” She looked at her watch. It was after five, a busy time for vans.

“I’d like to see how status tats work. You can drive.” He was coaxing her and she wasn’t sure why or if she should buy it, but she did love Nortons.

“Let’s see if Day-Day’s got time.” She flipped open her phone and in a few seconds she’d arranged to meet him at the shop. Day-Day worked erratic hours, so this was a lucky sign. “Bring your bike around to the front. I’ll change and meet you downstairs.”

After he’d gone, Rena checked e-mail and saw that her new job had been announced. Props were pouring in, which made her grin so big it hurt. She dashed off an invitation to interested fighters for an 11:00 a.m. practice, then powered off her computer. So far so good.

Braiding her hair to keep it from tangling in the wind, she traded her shirt for a black jersey top with spaghetti straps so Day-Day could get at her shoulder. At the last minute, she wiggled into her black leather miniskirt and tugged on her high-heel ankle boots. It wasn’t every day you got to ride a Commando.

Gage was out front as requested, sitting on his bike, the engine rumbling with power.

He locked onto her, eyes hot. “Nice skirt.”

“I wanted to be able to move.” He was hot for her and that sent a thrill through her.

“In those?” He nodded at her ankle boots.

“You’d be surprised.”

“You want to wear my jacket? The breeze whips up.”

“I want the sun on my skin.”

He looked her over again. “Nice skin.”

Mmm. He did make her feel sexy as hell. “Gorgeous bike,” she said. It looked brand-new and completely clean. The chrome and aluminum gleamed, the black tank with gold trim looked newly painted.

“I’ve worked over every inch.” He ran a loving hand along the tank, which made Rena’s insides jump in a funny way. “I boosted the speed with a belt drive on the primary and upgraded the carburetor.” He scooted back and patted the seat. “Climb on.”

She threw her leg over the saddle and sat, her hands on the grips. Gage was close, his jeans warm against her thighs; she fought the urge to wiggle against him. “What do I need to know about driving her?”

He leaned in, swamping her in his scent, hands over her own. “Brake’s here. Throttle’s here.” His body pressed so tightly against hers, she could hardly listen. “Shift up for low, not down, like with other bikes. Steering is light, the throttle’s sensitive, but she holds the road like no other bike.”

“Good. Got it. Low is up,” she repeated, saying it again in her head.

“Try not to stall her. It’s a kick-start and there’s a knack to that.” That was pretty macho, she had to admit.

She revved the engine, getting a feel for it, loving the low muttering growl. Smiling, she looked back at him. “Thank you.”

“My pleasure. Truly.” He shifted slightly against her, giving her a rush to match what she was getting from the bike. “You could drive her to Seattle if you wanted. She’s a great touring bike. She’ll do ninety all day on the highway.”

That would be amazing.
“Thanks, but I should travel with the managers.”

She drove off, grateful she had to concentrate on managing the machine beneath her. It kept her from thinking about the man behind her, big and warm and strong and way, way too
sexually stimulating.

Chapter Eight

Rena handled the Commando as though she was born to ride it. She was smooth on the clutch and throttle, never stalled once or missed the upshift to low, which threw anyone new to Nortons. He wasn’t surprised. Rena had great physical instincts.

She had great physical everything. Wrapping his legs around her sweet thighs with the 850’s beast of an engine growling beneath them felt like pure heaven. The tight suspension let them feel the road a bit, giving a sexy friction to any place their bodies touched. God, what he’d give for a long drive in just this position. He was polite enough to keep his hard-on to himself, leaning back as far as he could without falling off the saddle.

He was pleased with the recent turn of events. In a few fast-talking minutes he’d convinced Rena he was a legit Lifer and talked his way into Beth’s tattoo shop. Things were moving along.

Body Artist sat in a pink-and-turquoise strip mall in South Phoenix, near a bodega with colorful piñatas dangling from the awning. Gang tags decorated all upright surfaces and most signs were in Spanish as well as English.

The crowded shop looked neglected. Sun-faded tattoo flash framed or pinned to the wall seemed untouched for years, and the black tattoo chair had duct-taped cracks. Reggae blared and a shirtless white guy with long blond dreads, his chest tattooed with Mary, Christ and Buddha, looked up from an
Architectural Digest
.

“Come the day, eh?” he said to Rena, moving over to hug her.

“Three levels,” she said. “At once.”

The guy stepped back. “That’s a lotta ink. You sure?”

“Absolutely.” She turned to Gage. “Gage, this is Day-Day. Day-Day, Gage Stone. I’m his Mentor. He wants to see how status tats go on.”

“Long as it’s cool with you, no problem.”

“Day-Day’s an incredible artist,” she said. “Check out his book.” She nodded at a binder smudged with ink on the counter, which also held tattoo guns and inks in racks, metal trays, tubes of antiseptic gel, and paper-wrapped needles. Gage flipped through some pages, figuring how to ask about Beth. “This is all you?” The guy had an eye for flow and curve.

“All me, yeah. Come on.” He motioned them through a door at the back to another station. This room seemed to belong to an entirely different business. The walls were clean black enamel, the chair white and new, and the smell was rubbing alcohol. A glass case on the counter held a tat gun and a small refrigerator next to a sink. More medical paraphernalia, too, along with latex gloves, a stack of kidney-shaped plastic bowls, and some orange pill containers.

Rena climbed onto the chair, that killer skirt riding too high on those thighs of hers. Gage looked away, fighting an erection. The girl did good things to black leather, for sure, but he had no time for distraction.

Day-Day dropped onto a stool at the counter, pulled on black gloves, then wiped Rena’s arm with alcohol and slid a paper sleeve up her arm with an opening that showed her shoulder tattoo. Flipping off the overheads, he turned on a black light. Instantly, Day-Day’s and Rena’s teeth glowed white and Rena’s multicolored tattoo came alive.

“This should be three sessions, you know,” Day-Day said, studying the rainbow maze on the ball of Rena’s shoulder.

“I start my new job tomorrow,” Rena said. “I don’t have time to come back.”

“If you say so.” He rolled to the counter to pour a pill into his palm, grab a cone of water, and give both to Rena.

“Is that for the pain?” Gage asked.

“Nausea,” Day-Day answered, turning the overhead on long enough to flip through a white binder to extract a tissue with the tattoo pattern in purple. Purple must be the color for Level Six.

Day-Day applied the stencil, laid out a paper-lined steel tray and plastic ink cups, then took from the fridge three small squeeze bottles—two white, one pale purple, both labeled. He read from the notebook, then counted drops into an ink cup, stirring it with a Q-tip before putting the bottles away.

“The ink has to be kept cold?” Gage asked. “Is it fragile?”

Day-Day shrugged. “That’s how it’s done.”

“You need special training to do these tattoos?” That would be a good lead-in to ask about Beth.

“A tat’s a tat.” He looked at Rena. “This guy’s full of questions.”

Rena turned her head to consider Gage.

“What can I say? I’m a curious guy,” he said, deciding to cool it for a bit.

Day-Day set up the tat gun and compressor, restored the black light, dipped the needle into the unearthly purple ink, and scooted close to Rena. “Ready to rock and roll?”

“Hit it,” Rena said, biting her lip. Why was she so tense? Tats stung, but Rena didn’t seem the type to fuss over a little discomfort.

The compressor purred and Day-Day set to work drawing on Rena’s shoulder. Rena sucked in a breath.

Day-Day stopped. “You okay?”

She nodded, but her fingers dug into the chair arms.

“Let me know when it’s too much.” He settled in to work. After a minute, Rena began talking in what clearly took effort, asking Day-Day’s opinion about the battle routines she wanted to do. He promised to join in when he could.

After a few minutes, Gage risked a question, “I noticed a tattoo on a Lifer that I think a friend of mine did. L.E. Pearl? She work here?” He held his breath, hoping for confirmation.

Day-Day stilled. “Used to, yeah.”

Rena eyed Gage again. “You know her name now? Your friend?”

“Yeah. I ran into someone who knew her.”

Day-Day’s movements slowed. “She had some
EverLife
designs that were good. So I let her set up here.”

“Why’d she quit?”

“Got bored, I guess. I don’t get many walk-ins.” He rolled his shoulder. There was more to tell. “She wasn’t really into body art. More of a painter.”

“Did she do any status tats?”

“Some, yeah. Until she started bitching about the ink.”

“She’s got a mouth on her, that’s for sure.” He laughed to invite Day-Day to agree. “What bugged her about the ink?”

“She said it didn’t flow right, that it made people too sick. Said we ought to check it for lead. Pain in the ass.”

“Where did she go from here? Do you know?”

Rena was still watching him, suspicious now, so he had to expand his story. “We parted on bad terms. I’ve been wondering how she is.”

“Another Lounge, I heard,” Day-Day said. “Vegas? Chicago? Maybe Seattle. She should have been booted, you ask me. She disappeared some ink. The stuff’s like gold, so I had to report it.”

With her hundred grand heading their way, Gage would bet NiGo would never evict Beth no matter how much she complained. At least he knew she was still in the system. Even better, now that Rena was a manager, she’d have access to personnel records. All he needed was a few minutes at her computer to locate Beth. Maybe tonight, since he would be staying late to smuggle out some E for Cassie. Nardo had been away on a job when Gage called for some cans.

Abruptly, Rena sat up, hand to her mouth. Day-Day spun to the counter, grabbed one of the curved bowls and a paper towel, and held them out.

Rena vomited, wiped her mouth, then dropped to the headrest.

“Want a break?” Day-Day asked. He didn’t seem surprised by the incident—pretty severe, Gage thought, especially with an antinausea pill in her system. Maybe Beth had been onto something about the ink.

“After this one’s done.” She took a shaky breath.

Rena and Day-Day talked about an
EverLife
Quest they’d done and Day-Day’s band, which would be performing at the launch party for
EverLife
II
.

Day-Day wiped the excess ink off with a gauze pad. “Level Five’s done. I need a smoke and you need a break.” He patted Rena’s hand, which had been white-knuckling the chair arm, then put the ink cup and everything he’d used, including the Q-tip and his gloves, into a Baggie he sealed and tossed into a lidded trash can marked
biohazard
.

Day-Day restored normal lighting, promised to be back in twenty minutes, and took off.

“You okay?” Gage asked Rena, who was pale as school paste.

She nodded. “Purple must be strong. I need to hit the john.”

He offered a hand, but she pushed up on her own. “Need help getting there?”

“I’m fine,” she said—as he expected—then walked gingerly through the back door. He needed a moment alone to grab that Baggie from the trash anyway. If the ink worried Beth, it worried him, too.

It took ninety minutes for Day-Day to add dark red, then dark orange to the rainbow on Rena’s shoulder, while Rena went paler and paler. When he finally declared her done, she blew out a huge, shaky breath. She took the hand mirror Day-Day held out and checked the tat. “Awesome as always.”

“You have
arrived
, Dome Commander Girl.” Day-Day tapped her knuckle.

After he’d rubbed ointment over the tattoo, he taped black plastic on top to guard it from sunlight. “No food or drink for four hours, then go mild—clear soup, tea, toast. No Electrique for twelve. Take this in four.” He handed her another nausea pill, which she slipped into her skirt pocket. She swiveled sideways, put her feet on the floor, and stood. When she swayed, Gage caught her arm.

“I’m fine.” She pulled away and stood there looking anything but.

“Nerves of steel,” Day-Day said to her. “I got more guys to sign your petition. I keep my laptop open to your website and make them sign while I set up for their tats.”

“That’s great,” she said, giving him a hug.

He grinned. “I’m very convincing with a needle in my hand.”

Gage knew Rena was in agony because she didn’t want to drive and rode slumped across his back the whole way. It was just after nine when he pulled up to the Lounge. Rena backed off the bike.

“I’m walking you up to your Quarters,” he said, kicking down the stand, then rocking the bike onto it. “No argument.”

“It’s late. I’m okay.” Her eyes gleamed as if with fever.

He started to put his arm around her, but she blocked him. “I can’t limp in front of Watchers.” With a shuddering breath, she forced herself to stand tall and walk steady. Gage stayed close, ready to catch her if she collapsed, but she made it to the Quarters elevator before sagging against the back of the car. Nerves of steel for sure.

By the time they reached her floor, the fight had gone out of her and she let him half carry her to her door. Inside, he turned down the covers and hefted her onto the mattress. She let him tug off her short boots, then seemed to be fumbling with the waist of her skirt.

“Want me to take your clothes off?” he asked.

“The pill Day-Day gave me…in my pocket.” She let her hand fall and Gage fished out the tablet. “And some Electrique, please.”

“Day-Day said no E for twelve hours.”

“I don’t care. It will help.”

Sure enough, ten minutes after she’d emptied the can, her color returned, though her eyes still had an odd sheen.

“You can go,” she said. “Thanks for the ride and letting me drive.”

“I’ve got time. No worries.” He had to hang back until midnight when the sensors shut down to carry out the Electrique for Cassie.

“I keep telling you I’m fine.” Her lids slid low, as if she’d been drugged.

“I’m staying until you fall asleep.” Now that he thought about it, once she dropped off, he could get into her system and search for a directory.

“I’m fine. Really. I’m—” Her eyes went wide and she jerked to a sit, hand at her mouth.

Gage grabbed the wastepaper basket and held it while she retched. After he’d rinsed it clean, he warmed a washcloth and wiped Rena’s face.

“Feels good,” she murmured. “One more can, okay?”

He brought it to her and she drained it. “Tha’s good,” she said, sounding loaded now. “You can go. Don’ blow curfew.” Her lids kept closing on her.

He smoothed her covers.

“Don’ worry abou’ your tat, Gajjje.” She tried to focus on him, but her eyes rolled back in her head. “One level’s nothing. I had three. Tooo mush.”

“I’m worried about
you
, Rena. I don’t give a crap about tattoos.”

“I keep telling you…”

“That you’re fine, yeah. Got it.”

“You can go. Really.”

“Nah. I’m sticking. We’re family, remember?”

She looked him dead on. “But you’re not quite, are you?” She paused. “You don’ quite fit.” She stared, doubting him again even through her daze. “You make me sooo confused.”

“If it makes you feel any better, you confuse me, too,” he said softly, suggesting something intimate that he half meant.

“I confuse you? Tha’s nice.” She smiled a girlish smile, then turned onto her side, both hands under her cheek to look up at him. “I sure liked that Norton. I wish I coulda driven back.”

“Borrow it any time.”

“Until you sell it. Maybe you should give it to us. Be better than those wrecked-up vans we have.” Her eyes closed.

He pushed loose hair from her sweat-damp cheek and felt a flash of lust as bright and startling as a match strike in the dark. He wanted her. Bad. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d wanted a woman so much.

Sex was off the table, of course.
No points
. He had to laugh. This place was so insane. He didn’t dare forget that for a minute.

Rena’s breathing slowed and deepened as she settled into sleep.

What a shame that a girl as smart and capable as Rena had limited her life to this. Same with Beth. In some ways they were alike—fierce and stubborn, with big hopes and hearts, deeply disappointed that the world and the people in it were no better than they were.

Rena must have been badly hurt to take this place for nirvana. Had Beth been hurt that badly? The idea sickened him. He’d know more if he could decode Beth’s writing, but so far his efforts had failed. He hoped to soon hear her story in person. To that end he had to learn where she was. “Rena?”

No response. He called her three more times. When she showed no reaction, he smoothed her covers one last time. Something in him softened at how sweet and serene she looked asleep. He almost leaned down to kiss her. Instead, he slipped to her computer to see where Beth had gone.