Two Can Play (Entangled Ignite) Read online

  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.

  …

  Sunlight from a new angle woke Rena early, making her head throb and her eyes burn. Her mouth tasted musty and metallic and she felt shaky, like the worst of her old-days hangovers.

  She squinted at her clock. Seven-thirty. Late! She had no time to feel bad. She had to hit the health center for a blood test before she took over the Dome from Lionel Dray. She hoped she’d gotten enough volunteers for her battle practice.

  She put her feet to the floor and sat up slowly. Her stomach lunged upward, so she bounded to her new toilet in her new Quarters. What a way to christen the place. Afterward, rinsing her mouth at her brand-new sink, she noticed a damp cloth and remembered Gage wiping her face. Nah. I’m sticking, he’d said. That made her feel odd. Exposed. Needy.

  And warm.

  She pushed that guilty pleasure down deep where it belonged, then made it to her fridge for some E, which she drank while sitting on the floor, back to the cool plastic. Once the E had done its magic, she made her way to her computer, intending to see what responses she’d gotten to her invitation to practice.

  She sank into her chair, then stopped, surprised by a strong whiff of Gage’s cologne. Her mouse wasn’t at the angle she kept it to avoid tendinitis, either. She sniffed the device. Gage had definitely held it recently. Last night? But she’d shut down her system before they left for Body Artist. He couldn’t have gotten in without the pass code. Maybe he’d tried, wanting to add points to his file, but gave up once the sign-in lock appeared.

  Tension rising, her stomach clenched, she logged in to check the browser history. When she saw that someone had been on her system at eleven last night, her heart sank.

  How had he gotten her code? With a jolt, she remembered him pulling her onto his lap after sex that first day, pretending to want to be close. Instead, he must have tracked her keystrokes or—her gaze shot to the corkboard. She’d been warned to keep her code hidden, but it was a hassle and she trusted Lifers. She’d been a fool to trust Gage. Her face burned with shame.

  Why had he done it? What had he been after? She clicked into his data file. No new points. Ice poured through her veins. The very moment she’d begun to have a shadow of the beginnings of trust in him, he’d failed her. When will you learn? Trust no one but Family.

  She would confront him when he came in for his shift, get his story before she went to Maya about it. Maybe he had an answer that made sense. Why do you care? He’s not a true Lifer. Let him go.

  But he was her trainee. She’d promised Maya she’d give him a chance and they needed every Recruit they could get these days.

  Pushing that problem to the back of her mind, she checked e-mail. Lots of girl Lifers had volunteered for the new battles, along with Baker and a few of his friends. The only Watchers were Zeke and Bull, who were both on duty. She’d have to talk to their shift manager—Milo—about letting them off. If the first practice didn’t fly, she’d never get the stronger fighters involved.

  Showered and dressed, she headed to the NiGo Health Center, tucked into a strip mall. Yolanda, the lab tech and receptionist, seemed annoyed to have to put down her People magazine to take Rena’s blood. The stick hurt like hell, but soon Rena was back at the Lounge, bounding up the stairs to the Dome booth, ready to start her adventure. Lionel hadn’t responded to her e-mail request for a walk-through, but he was on duty at the board.

  When she got close she noticed he was playing a video game and smelled of pot. “Hey, there,” she said. “Ready to show me the job?”

  He shot her a red-eyed glance. “Let me finish this level.”

  That was rude, but they had time, she guessed, though she needed to track down Milo before the practice.

  Lionel finished the level, but he’d earned an extra life and kept playing.

  Anger spiked. “I’ve got a practice coming up.”

  He shut down the game and turned to her. “Yeah? Well, I don’t give a shit about your practice. I don’t care who you are, this reeks.”

  “What does that mean?” She was shocked at his hostility. She’d assumed he’d asked for a transfer, leaving an opening to be filled.

  “Come on. You pulled strings for this job.”

  “Strings? No. Nigel gave me this assignment.” She felt as though she’d been punched in the gut. “Didn’t you ask to transfer?”

  “Hell, no. I got pushed over to shi
ft manager—a dog job with shitty hours.”

  “I didn’t know.”

  “Right. You would never climb over the backs of your fellow Lifers to get what you want.” His words were acid tossed in her face.

  “No. I wouldn’t.”

  “Whatever. I get it. You’re golden.”

  “What does that mean?”

  He looked disgusted. Did he think because Maya was her friend she got extra favors? The idea turned her already upset stomach upside down.

  Lionel glared, then blew out a breath. “Let’s get this over with.” He pushed back and stood so fast his chair shot behind him with a squeal. He walked her through the controls, waving at things, mumbling half-coherent directions about the deck, the sound system, how to manage the projection, the mist, the green screen.

  She took in as much as she could while he flipped switches, issued warnings, and jabbered instructions, until she’d had enough and stepped in front of him. “I did not go after your job, I swear. The assignment came out of the blue.”

  He seemed to assess her sincerity, then shook his head. “Doesn’t matter. The result’s the same. I’m out and you’re in.”

  “You’re the expert here. I need your help to do this right.”

  “Whatever,” he sighed, as if giving in, accepting her sincerity. “So what didn’t you understand?” For all his flaws—the chief one being laziness—he cared about the Dome.

  She asked questions and he ran through the procedures again, calmer now, as if resigned to misery. She felt bad for him. If there was a way to ease the sting… “I think it would help if you shadowed me the first few shifts. Would you be willing to do that?”

  “Not my call. Depends on what schedule Bondurant gives me.”

  “You saw my post about the demo battles, right? You’ve seen a million fights. I hoped you’d have ideas we could use.”

  He looked down at the Dome, then around the booth, finally settling on her face. “I might. Yeah.” He seemed suspicious, but hopeful.

  “Maybe you could stay in the Dome part time to help with that.”