Two Can Play (Entangled Ignite) (25 page)

“We were. We still are. There are just some problems. Like Mason.”

“Maybe you’re right. If the new game sells, if investments come in, we could recover. Getting your dad on board is a good start.”

“My dad?” She froze.

“Yeah. Mason’s crowing about how we’re on the verge of reeling in Wingate Technologies as a partner.”

“They know about Bingham?” Her entire insides flared with alarm. “I changed my name. I never told anyone.”
Nigel called you Genevieve…

“There are no secrets here. Every Lifer gets a financial workup. In your case, I think Wingate had a PI looking for you and Maya got wind of who you were and the rest is history.”

“Maya recruited me because of my father?” That meant Maya’s saving her life that night was no lucky gift. It was part of a plan. Her heart sank and sank. “Everyone knows?” No wonder Lionel called her golden.

“So what? If you get Wingate on board, you’ll be a hero to all of us.”

“I don’t want to be a hero. Not that way.” The pieces fell into place, crashing through her beliefs like bricks through a window. When she’d worried about her contribution, Nigel had told her that story about his own father.
Yours will be even more generous
. He’d known exactly who he was talking about.

You’ve only begun your contribution journey with us
. That had been about getting Bingham as a community partner. Nigel had dollar signs in his eyes the entire time he’d talked with her, telling her how well he knew her, how much they were alike… Rena’s rapid climb had nothing to do with her skills or her devotion to the Life. It was all about her being bait for Bingham Wingate’s billions.

Her head spun, the room went gray, and she felt the hot blush of shame in her face. Unable to catch a breath, she stumbled to her feet. “I have to go.” She’d been tricked and used. Maybe Nigel didn’t know about Mason’s blackmail, but he knew who Rena was and had used her more terribly than she’d ever been used in the Dead World.

She went to the bathroom and splashed water on her face to keep from passing out. She wanted to scream, to hit something hard, to curl into a ball and die, all at once.

She was scrubbing her face dry with a rough paper towel when her phone signaled she had a message. She flipped it open. Gage. Still trying to reach her. He’d been right about the money, that was for sure. Was he right about Roland killing Cassie? Leland had said Mason’s Watchers were doing secret crap.

She could at least hear what he had to say…

She pushed the button for voice mail, her heart hammering her chest.

But Gage had used her, too. He was a lying, conniving reporter.

The voice said, “You have one message.”

Wild with frustration, Rena hit delete. She couldn’t trust Gage any more than she could trust Maya. Who could she trust? No one. Not even herself. She was an addict, after all, hooked on Electrique.

Her eye scanned the busy arena, spotting the Lifers on duty among the gamers—innocent, happy, sure of the Life. Was it all a lie? Was there no place that could be home, where she would be safe, where things made sense? A howl welled up inside her and she had to get out, breathe, escape somehow. She started out the door, ready to run as far and as fast as she could go.

“Rena?”

Zeke’s voice stopped her a few feet outside the Lounge. Gritting her teeth, she turned to him. He was frowning, troubled about something.

“What?” All she wanted was to run, but Zeke held her in place. Something about the look on his face.

“Gage tried to fight his way in to see you.”

“Yeah?”

“He was pretty desperate. Ready to fight five of us to get to you. He says he has to talk to you about Cassie. He wants you to meet him at his place.”

“Yeah, well, thanks.” She turned to leave, to run.

“I think you should go.” He came closer.

She stopped.

“I know the guy’s banned and all, but he seems solid to me.” He cleared his throat. “I kind of believe him.”

“I do, too.” It hit her hard, straight through her agony and panic. Gage had lied about who he was, but he’d been right about the Life.

“I better get back,” Zeke said.

She nodded, watching him go, her heart thudding, trying to figure out what to do now. She felt as if the earth had cracked beneath her and soon she’d be swallowed up, choking on dirt, powerless and lost.

For some reason, she looked up. A silver slice of moon glowed over her head and there were stars—not as many or as bright as the night they’d camped—but she could see Orion’s belt. She remembered Gage’s story of the stars, their struggles, their triumphs. Where was Astra? Somewhere among the unforgiving mist of lights sprayed onto the limitless black.

When she was Astra in the Dome, Rena never doubted or feared or faltered. What about the Astra who lived within her?

Trust me. Trust yourself.
She pictured Gage’s face when he’d held her down and demanded she hear him out.

Okay, Gage. You’ve got one last chance. Make it good.

She dialed his number.

And got voice mail, which sounded muddy, thanks to her lame phone. What? After endless attempts to reach her, now he refused her calls?
Be that way.
He’d wanted her to come to his place, to meet him there. That’s what he’d told Zeke. Okay. She’d give him this one last chance.

She sprinted back to the Lounge garage, where she saw that the guys were playing cards in the office. She could see a van waiting for service. She slipped inside to the key board, found the key labeled with the van’s plate, and got inside, praying the van needed an oil change, not some drastic repair, or she’d be out of luck before she took off.

This trip should be secret, she was pretty sure, so she slipped out the back way, lights off, and sped toward the freeway. All the way, she kept calling Gage. The phone kept ringing, so it was charged and on. Why no answer? More anxious every minute, she squeezed the steering wheel, her fingers damp with sweat though the air was cool with the windows down.

Before long, she recognized the exit they’d taken to Gage’s place. Where was that dirt road? She slowed when she thought she was close, watching for it. There? No. There? Damn. Soon she’d gone too far. Sweat was really pouring down her body now and she shivered from the spring breeze. She backtracked, tried again, and missed.
Hurry the hell up
.

Something is wrong
. The hairs on the back of her neck prickled. Her skin tingled. Where the hell was his road? She stilled herself, inhaled deeply, and recited her warrior mantra:
You have all the power you need. You stand strong and free. You are more than enough.

Calmer, she closed her eyes and pictured the path as it had looked from the back of the motorcycle in daylight. There was a slight curve to the shoulder, then a clump of cholla and sage, plus dozens of spindly flowers. Poppies, she was pretty sure. Orange, yellow, and white.

Holding the picture in her mind, she tried once more, this time crawling along the shoulder. There was the cactus…the sage... Her lights hit the scrawny stems of those flowers and she spotted the gap. Yeah.

Blowing out the breath she’d been holding, she made the turn and was soon roaring along the winding path, going far too fast. The Commando had taken these turns like a straightaway, but the van’s tires fishtailed toward the edge. She turned into the skid, straightening just in time, but she didn’t slow down. She couldn’t.
Hurry, hurry
shrieked in her head.

Finally she reached Gage’s trailer, but it was dark and the Norton was gone. She’d panicked for nothing? Using a flashlight from the van’s glove compartment, she looked in the windows. Nothing seemed disturbed.

Was he on his way back?

Her breathing had settled now. She felt deflated. She’d been scared for nothing. So much for her instincts.

She looked out into the desert dark, the skinny moon giving just a bit of light. It was so quiet. She could see why Gage liked living out here. The dark didn’t bother her as much as it used to, thanks to the sleeping-bag night. She’d give him fifteen minutes to get home.

Restless, she started back up the path, watching for the single headlight of the Commando. Rounding a bend, she sensed movement and stopped short. An animal stood at the edge of the path, ready to cross. Built like a dog, but with wispier legs. This was that wildlife crossing Gage had mentioned. She was face-to-face with wildlife, all right.
A coyote
. A shiver ran down her spine and raised the hairs on her arm. But the creature didn’t act threatening. It looked her over, relaxed, maybe curious.

Her heart banged her ribs, but she held her ground.

As she watched, the coyote jerked its head over its shoulder, then looked back toward her before it trotted away, moonlight turning its fur to feathers. She could swear it was telling her where to go.

Looking where the coyote had nodded, Rena saw marks, streaks across the shoulder. Beyond them, moonlight reflected off metal in a familiar shape.

The Commando on its side, a wounded bird in the dirt. She ran closer. Gage had wrecked his bike? So close to home? Was he in the hospital or down the ravine? She went to the edge and pointed her flashlight down, but the brush was too thick to see much.

Then she had a thought. She dialed Gage’s phone. Seconds later, she heard the faintest of trills and barreled down the hill toward the sound, getting clawed at by mesquite and whipped by bushes, dust and the tarry musk of creosote filling her nose. Near the bottom, she could see the tiny light of Gage’s phone, flickering like a star, and she glued her gaze to it as she stumbled and slid, half falling the last few yards to the sandy bottom of the ravine.

There she found Gage, sprawled in the dirt, motionless, his phone ringing inches from his body. Was he dead?

Heart in her throat, she dropped to her knees to press her fingers against his neck. She felt a pulse as faint as the ring of his phone. “Gage,” she said, a fist squeezing the life from her heart. “Wake up. Come on.”

Finally, he shifted, then cried out in pain.

“Don’t move,” Rena said. “You could hurt yourself.”

But he flopped onto his back anyway, his face covered in blood and contorted by pain. “My shoulder…” He moved it, then gasped. She watched the ferocious effort he used to test his body—legs, neck, arms, chest. His breath caught. “Ribs…,” he gasped.

“Stay still. I’ll get you to a hospital.” She was dialing 911 as she spoke. She stood, planning to see what was in the van that might help her get him up to the road, since the drop-off was so steep. How the hell would an ambulance find them?

“Wait.” Gage raised a bleeding hand. “Watchers drove me off the road,” he gasped. “Were you followed?”

“I don’t think so.” Her phone couldn’t catch a signal, so she grabbed Gage’s to call for help, telling the dispatcher where they were and asking for the nearest hospital. John C. Lincoln in Deer Valley. Not too far away.

“They’ll kill you if they know,” Gage said. “Save yourself. I’ll be fine.”

“You rest, Gage. I’ll be right back.”

She got a flattened Electrique carton beneath Gage’s body, pulled him to a spot where the slope was gradual, and hauled him up to the dirt road. Unwilling to wait for the ambulance, she let them know she’d be bringing Gage in herself and drove like a maniac to the hospital.

Along the way, Gage blacked out.

Chapter Sixteen

In the emergency bay, medical people belted Gage onto a board with a rubber brace for his neck and rolled him into the emergency room, moving with maddening calm. Gage groaned, so she knew she hadn’t killed him getting him here.

They cut away his clothes and soon a doctor was squeezing and prodding him and asking questions that Gage tried to answer between yells and gasps. When a nurse handed Rena a plastic sack with Gage’s shoes and the remnants of his clothes, Rena said, “Could he please have a pain shot?”

“Once the doctor knows what’s wrong,” the nurse said calmly.

Hurry the hell up then
. She wanted to grab a needle herself.

Finally, the doctor straightened, smiling down at Gage, who was pale beneath the bloody scrapes, his face tight with pain. “Your dislocated shoulder we can fix quick. Beyond that, looks like you got yourself some cracked ribs and a cracked collarbone. We’ll confirm that with X-rays, of course.”

“Not bad.” Gage managed a pained smile.

“No kidding. We’ll debride your road rash, throw on some stitches, and you’ll be good to go. You’re one lucky biker, Mr. Stone. I’d pick up a lottery ticket on the way home, if I were you.”

“I hope my bike did as well as me.” Gage tried to laugh, then grimaced. After that an intern joined the doctor, and they braced Gage’s bad arm with a sheet, then popped his shoulder into place. Gage yelled once, then his face cleared and he grinned with relief. “Better.”

X-rays confirmed the doctor’s guess. After that they cleaned him up, taped his ribs, stitched his cheek, his forehead, and the back of one hand, and wrapped a sling around the bad arm. Somewhere in there he got a painkiller, and before long, they were sitting on the bed waiting to get signed out. “What the hell’s taking so long?” Gage said.

“Stop bitching. You’re lucky to be alive,” Rena said.

“Do you believe me now?”

“Not entirely, no.” Now that the terror was over she wanted the whole truth. “You lied to me. You’re a reporter.”

His gaze shot to her. “How did you find out?”

“Maya showed me an article you wrote. You’ve been investigating us for a story? Is that why you joined the Life?”

He shook his head. “I joined to find Beth, like I said.”

“You swore you told me everything—
all
the truth.”

“That wasn’t relevant.”

“It’s who you are, Gage. Of course it’s relevant.”

“You would have jumped to the wrong conclusions. I thought it was better not to tell you.”

“Better for you, not me.” Anger rose in her. “I’m sick of people protecting me with lies. I want the truth, dammit. All of it.”

“I needed you on my side and I was on shaky ground at the time.”

“You still are. Very shaky.”

“You have every right to be angry,” he said levelly. “You’ve been lied to by a lot of people, including me. But all my cards are on the table now. You have to believe me.” He held her with his gaze. She studied his battered face, bloody and stitched, already beginning to bruise.

Someone had definitely tried to kill him. Was it a Watcher in a Lounge van? Had they killed Cassie and his sister, too? Gage had been right about everything she’d checked out so far. “I’m listening,” she said.

“Good. That’s all I ask. We go from here together.” He blew out a breath. “How much did you tell them about me?”

“Everything. I told Maya about the tattoo ink you wanted to test, about the stolen report, and that you think they killed your sister.”

“No wonder they want me dead.” He gave a half laugh.

“You can’t believe Maya ordered you killed because of what I told her.” The thought horrified her. “She said they’d pursue legal action, that you’d only be banned.”

“Maybe she wasn’t the one who gave the order.”

She nodded. “I almost got you killed.”

“Actually you saved my life.” He gave her a crooked smile.

“I didn’t do that much. Your injuries aren’t life-threatening, thank God. Someone would have found you and—”

“No. Your battle move. I used that tumble-tuck you demonstrated. If I’d done it wrong, I would have snapped my neck.” He smiled. “So, see, you saved me.”

“It was my fault they went after you.”

“Now you know what these people are like. Did you get the photo I sent?”

“Of Cassie?” She nodded, remembering the terrible sight.

“I’m sorry you had to find out that way. It was Roland. A woman at the shelter described the guy who came for her—mean, red face, sword tattoos. She thought he must be her dealer, since Cassie went with him willingly. They found her in an alley a while later, dead of an OD.”

“Why would they kill her? She was out of the Lounge. What damage could she cause?” She stopped. “Leland says NiGo’s still taking that money from banned players. Was Mason afraid she’d report him? He runs the badass Watchers, including Roland. I could see Mason ordering them to kill people.” The words were bitter poison and they made a terrible sense.

“Somehow she was a threat. Same for Beth and her boyfriend. Maybe other Lost Lives, too, for all we know.”

“Whatever’s going on has to be stopped. I have to fix this.”

He took her hand in his battered one. “It’s beyond that, Rena. You need to stay clear. They’ll kill anyone who gets in their way.”

“They won’t hurt me, Gage. Not yet.” Bitterness turned her smile sour. “They want my father’s money and they need me to get it.”

“What do you mean?”

“My adoptive father is Bingham Wingate III.”

Gage whistled low. “Damn. He’s one of the top tech people in the world.”

“I changed my name, but they knew anyway. They check us out, Leland says. They do a financial workup. That’s why they recruited me.” Her voice shook and she fought emotion. “They want me to talk Bingham into buying the Seattle Lounge. If I do, they’ll make me the GM.” She shook her head, ashamed of how naive she’d been. She swallowed to ease the tightness in her throat. “Like a fool I thought I was leveling up so fast because I was
good
.” She hated that the tears showed in her voice.

“Hey…” Gage touched her cheek. “You
are
good. These are cunning, manipulative people. They know how to exploit you to get what they want.”

“Funny, but Maya said the same about you. She called you a sociopath.”

“I’m no saint and I did lie to you, but you deserve better than NiGo, Rena, and I want to help you get it.”

Rena felt suddenly exhausted by all she’d learned and what it would mean for her. “I knew I had to watch my back in the Dead World, but not in the Life. I believed…so much.” Tears made it hard to see and she blinked them back, failing, she realized, when wet warmth streaked her cheeks.

Angrily, she brushed it away. She never cried.
Never
. “Maya saved my life,” she said, her voice cracking. “I was drinking and I wanted to die. She took me in, helped me get sober, treated me like a sister.” Her nose was burning and she tipped her head back to use gravity to hold back more water. “But the whole time all she wanted was Bingham’s money.” Rena felt ripped up inside, her heart shredded, her brain in tatters.

When Gage brushed her cheeks, she knew she’d failed to dam the waterworks.

“Don’t you dare pity me,” she said, fighting for control.

“I don’t. I’m pissed for you. And we’ll make them pay for what they did. Working together, with you on the inside, we can destroy them.”

She shook her head. “I don’t want Lifers hurt. It’s not revenge I’m after. I want to set things right.”

“We can both get what we want. We’ll figure it out together.”

“How will that work?” She couldn’t picture where to start or what to do next.

“First, we need proof that Watchers killed Cassie and Beth, preferably witnesses who know what they’re up to.”

“I can ask Zeke what he knows about Mason’s Watchers.”

“Could he be with them?”

“Not Zeke. No way.” Maybe she’d been wrong about Maya and the Life, but not about Zeke and her Lifer friends, especially her Recruits.

“Okay, talk to him. Will Leland help us with the blackmail files? Get us copies for the police?”

“He was drunk when he talked to me. He needs the job because of his kids, so he might be too afraid to speak out. I’ll try to convince him.”

“We’ll have the lab results soon. That will tell us a lot, I hope.”

“I want to know why they drugged us.” Outrage burst like a hot fountain in her head. “I’m addicted to Electrique, Gage. Like you thought. I got sick when I tried to quit. When I told Maya she sent me to the health center and they gave me E in an IV.”

“So it’s a big deal that you stay on the stuff.”

“It must be. There were all these files in colors that I think might be based on our status levels. The doctor had a file marked ‘urgent’ on her desk.”

“I’d love a look at the files.”

“I could ask for a new blood test—say I want to be sure I’m normal—but the place is so small I don’t know how I could sneak past the receptionist to grab anything.”

“I’ll come with you to distract her.”

“Looking like that?” She nodded at his damaged body. “Besides, NiGo thinks you’re dead. You should stay that way.”

“No one at the health center has seen me.”

“I don’t know, Gage.”

“You have a better idea?”

“Not really, no. My brain is imploding, I think.”

“I’d also want to check out the Electrique factory, see what I can find out about the formulas, how they separate the gamer E from the Lifer E.”

“I have to let Lifers know what’s been done to them.” She paused. “Everyone will be here for the launch party next week. I can tell them then.”

“What will you say?”

She thought about that. “The story sounds insane—
Mason is stealing from EverLife players and killing the Lifers who find out. They addicted us to Electrique and the tattoo ink is poisoned.
The question is why? What are they trying to do? And who is it? Mason and Maya or just Mason? Do Nigel and Naomi know? I want to confront them, make them confess.”

“They’re professional liars. How would you accomplish that?”

“I don’t know. Show them evidence they can’t deny. Broadcast their words to everyone at the party. It sounds impossible.”

“Not necessarily. We’ve got a week before the launch, right? I’ll talk to the PI I hired to help me find Beth about using one of his wearable miniature cameras. They look like cell phones or buttons on a shirt or in a purse. You’d transmit the signal to a laptop, then use the Dome sound system to broadcast it.”

“Would that work?”

“With high-end gear, it should.”

“The timing would be tight. We’d have to have them in the right place at the right time.”

“True. But in the meantime, we could put listening devices in key spots in case they say something incriminating.”

“Right. Mason’s office…Maya’s Quarters…the Blackstones’ penthouse if I can get a reason to go up there. Something to do with fund-raising should work. They always want to hear about money coming in.” She hated how cynical she sounded. Like Gage. She felt like a storm raged inside her. She was so tired, so mixed up.

“I’ll get on that. We’ve got a lot to do.”

She was so tired, she couldn’t think straight. “I want to get clean, Gage. I tried to quit E and got really sick. I want off it for good.”

“I know the manager of a detox clinic who would help us. He worked with me on a story about teen runaways.”

“How long will it take?” She swallowed, dreading the agony.

“The worst is over in forty-eight hours for narcotics. I know that from my mother. It probably depends on the drug and how dependent you are.”

“I’ll need an excuse to be gone from the Lounge. Everyone’s busting ass with the launch coming up.” She let her brain run through options, grateful for something tangible to figure out. “The Sacramento GM wants me to demo the Dome battles in her Lounge. I could sign out a van and pretend to go there.”

“Sounds believable.”

She nodded. “There’s one more thing.” She swallowed hard, fought the tightness in her throat to squeeze out the words. “I need to see Cassie. Will you take me?”

He steadied his gaze on her. “If you’re sure.”

“I dragged her out of the Life to her death. I want to pay my respects.” That guilt would haunt her to the end of her days.

“Cassie wanted me to tell you it wasn’t your fault.”

“Cut it out, Gage. No more lies. I don’t need protecting.”

“It’s the truth. She was pissed at first, sure, but when I dropped her off after the visit, her exact words were, ‘Tell Rena I don’t blame her. I stepped in shit. That’s not on her.’”

“That sounds like Cassie,” she said, her heart lifting a little. Neither Angel in the story nor the suicide call Maya had reported sounded one bit like Rena’s tough, mouthy friend. But the words Gage had quoted did. And they soothed her a little.

Before long, armed with pain pills from the hospital pharmacy, they headed back to Gage’s place. Gage slept in the van, doped up and worn out, head against the window, waking when she opened the door to help him out.

“We’re here?” he said sleepily. “What about my bike?”

“It’s not going anywhere,” she said, bracing him to the ground.

“I got a guy who does good body work,” he said. “And I have extra paint.”

“Forget your bike, Gage. You’ve got bigger worries.”

The doctor had told him to let his pain level be his guide to what he could do. Rena didn’t see him running many races. He grimaced with every stiff and slow step he took into the trailer and back to his bed. He could make phone calls, but she didn’t see him doing much investigating. She would have to handle that.

She put the pill bottle and water on his nightstand for when the pain hit again, then sat beside him.

His eyes drooped from painkiller and exhaustion. “I’m glad you came for me, Rena.” He reached for her hand. “I would have been sorry if I never saw you again.” He gave her a goofy smile and her heart did a funny flip.

“Me, too.” She couldn’t believe how corny she sounded. It was as though she’d been shot up with Demerol and didn’t know what she was saying either.

“With Beth gone…nothing holds me. But…it’s funny…I thought of you and that night we had…with Orion and all and—”