Skin Dive

by Ava Gray

  Finch snorted. “You make it sound like a cult. But, yeah. Anyway, I’ve got places to be. Stay as long as you like, until you think it’s safe. The door locks automatically.”

  “Nice to meet you,” Gillie said politely.

  Taye laughed as Finch headed out; he could always count on her to make him see the humor in any situation. She regarded him with a haughty tilt of her head. Still smiling, he dropped down on the floor beside her. Artificial light caught gold strands in her red curls, and she was so pretty when she smiled back at him that his breath stuck in his chest, leaving him with a tight and fearful ache. She has a dimple in her left cheek. He wanted to touch a fingertip to it; the gentle simplicity of that impulse surprised him. Her skin would be warm and satin-smooth, but if he started there, he wouldn’t stop.

  It took him a moment to remember what he had to say. “Sorry I almost got us caught.”

  “You didn’t know they had somebody who can detect us.”

  “Yeah, well,” he muttered. “Excuses don’t matter. But I’ll do better, I promise.”

  She went on, blue eyes implacable, “You absolutely can’t power up anymore. If we need money, we’ll find work, once we decide where to go.”

  Good idea, as far as it went. “We’re limited to where buses can take us. And some terminals may ask for ID.”

  “I’m not keen to spend forty hours on a Greyhound anyway,” she murmured.

  Considering what the short trip from Altoona had been like, he had to agree. “He said we could hide here for a little while. Maybe you should get some sleep.”

  “What about you?”

  “I’ll watch over you.”

  To his pleasure, she didn’t argue; instead she laid her head in his lap and closed her eyes. In the sweet silence, he listened to her breathe, realizing he had no happier moment socked away. For him, sitting in the dark on the floor with her offered the purest pleasure he’d ever known. When Taye felt sure she was out, he let himself touch the strands of hair cascading across his legs. She murmured softly, turning her cheek onto his thigh. His cock hardened from her warmth and proximity, but he didn’t mind the ache. It reminded him he was alive and capable of wanting her that much.

  Sweet as summer honey, she was. And he’d do whatever it took to keep her that way.

  ONE WEEK LATER DETROIT

  Gillie stood outside McGinty’s Tavern for a full five minutes, hands in the pockets of her hoodie, while she worked up the courage to go in. Normal people did stuff like this all the time.

  It was a crumbling redbrick building with a green sign with tarnished brass letters. The windows were smoky, permitting no glimpse of what the inside would be like.

  Taking a deep breath, she pushed through the door and snatched the “Help Wanted” sign from the window, then strode boldly toward the bar. Begin as you mean to go on, her mother always said. An ache sprang to life at the stray thought; she tried not to remember her parents or to wonder what became of them, lest the hurt become untenable. Gillie knew damn well she couldn’t look for them or contact them. That would paint a giant bull’s-eye on her parents’ back, presuming Rowan had lied, and they were still alive. She wouldn’t make them targets or let the Foundation use them to coerce her back into captivity.

  But today, the memory of her mother’s soft voice with its faint Cork accent gave her fortitude to do what she must. She took a quick look around: neon beer signs on the walls, turned off because it was daytime, dark wood, and various stains—not a lovely place, but one where people came to drink away their memories.

  An elderly man turned at her approach and shook his head. “We’re closed, miss.”

  “I know. I came about the job.” She placed the sign on the counter as if that gesture held the power to get her hired.

  Bushy white brows shot skyward. “Dishwashing? It’s too dirty in there”—he pronounced it “thar,” with a jerk of his head toward the kitchen—“for a pretty mite like you.”

  “Please. I really need the work . . . You don’t have to pay me much. I don’t even know what minimum wage is these days.”

  The old man eyed her for a moment, as if trying to decide if she was on the level. In the new world Taye had told her about—where there were cameras on every street corner—maybe government men routinely tried to trap small business owners into proving they’d hire illegal employees. But Gillie gauged the precise moment he recognized the desperation in her threadbare secondhand jeans and the slightly too-large sweatshirt.

  “You looking for a cash arrangement?” he asked.

  “That’d be best. I’ll work hard, harder than anybody who ever walked through that door.”

  A gruff laugh escaped him, then he turned and yelled toward the kitchen, “Hear that, you sons of bitches?” Facing her, he added, “It wouldn’t take much to beat this lot. I got one waitress, I tend bar, and Manny makes burgers and cheese fries for the drunks. You’d be on cleanup. You willing to bus tables, too?”

  “I’ll do whatever work needs doing.”

  “Bathrooms, dishes, floors?” He raised a brow like he expected her to argue.

  The fact of the matter was, the money Taye had taken from the ATM in Pittsburgh wouldn’t keep them much longer. He’d rented a studio apartment, using most of it, so if one of them didn’t find a job, they’d starve. If he powered up again, the consequences would be worse.

  She nodded. “I know how to mop, wipe tables, and push a broom.”

  “Come back tonight. You’ll work from seven to three, five nights a week. Five dollars an hour, one meal included in your pay, if you can stand to eat Manny’s cooking.”

  “I heard that!”

  “Ignore him. Anyway, I’m Michael McGinty . . . you can call me Mick.”

  Gillie extended her hand politely. “I’m—”

  “Are you gonna lie to me?”

  “Yes,” she admitted.

  “Then I’ll save you some time and call you Red. Unless you mind.”

  “No, that’s fine. I’ll be back at seven then. Thank you.”

  It didn’t surprise her to find Taye waiting outside, even though she had asked him to let her do this by herself. He felt responsible for her, and she couldn’t seem to cure him of that impulse, no matter how much she insisted she wanted to make her own way. But at the moment, she was too pleased to have that argument again.

  “I got the job.” She grinned up at him.

  He opened his arms, offering a celebratory hug, and she wished his affection didn’t come with such labels on it. But she didn’t turn him down; instead she ran to him and let him swing her off her feet in a slow circle.

  Once he set her back down and they fell in step heading back to the apartment, he said, “Me, too. I’m loading down at the docks.”

  “Under the table?” she guessed.

  “That’s the only work we’ll be able to find until I get us some new IDs.”

  “Which will take money.”

  There was an easy fix, of course. Taye wanted to gamble by using his ability and then bail before Kestrel could get a team to them. But Gillie wasn’t eager to risk capture again; they couldn’t be guaranteed of finding a safe hidey-hole again. She preferred to work and lay low. Living on their combined salaries, surely they could save enough to get new paperwork in time. They just had to take care until then.

  “I’m working the day shift, but I’ll be able to pick you up at night.”

  Gillie stifled a smile. “Thank you.”

  “We need to talk about living arrangements—”

  “Why?” She raised a brow. “It makes sense that we share the apartment. We need to save money, remember?”

  He gave her a dark look, but didn’t argue.

  That set the tone for the next couple of weeks. The work at McGinty’s was hard and unpleasant, as Mick had warned her, but she liked pulling her own weight, even when it involved mopping up someone’s drunken bender or plunging a toilet. By the time she finished at night, she was exhausted, but she always w
ent home feeling like she’d earned her pay.

  And she always found Taye waiting when she got off work. Though she’d never admit it, without him, she would have been frightened walking the blocks between the apartment and the bar. Half the time, the streetlights didn’t work, and sometimes men hung out on corners and on front stoops until all hours. With him beside her, they didn’t bother her.

  Once they got home, she hung up her jacket and gave him the takeout container. She had gotten in the habit of asking Manny to make a burger or a steak to go. And he never charged her for it; she suspected he thought she ate the food herself, the following day. Since they both got fed once a day on the tavern’s dime, it cut down on the grocery bill.

  “So . . .” Taye asked tiredly. “The outside world. Is it everything you dreamed?”

  “Yes and no.” She sank down on the plaid couch and watched him stow tomorrow’s lunch in the small refrigerator. “I won’t claim I dreamed of escaping from Exeter to clean up after people, but doing this of my own free will is better than being Rowan’s prisoner.”

  “No joke.”

  Taye sat down beside her on the sofa. He stretched out, arm along the back, and she longed to curl into him. Gillie knew better, though. His boundaries didn’t extend to cuddling; by his definition, they were roommates by default, and he had no desire to get further tangled up with her.

  Most days she tried to pretend it didn’t hurt. So she worked to bury the pain. Constantly.

  After they moved in, she’d scrubbed the apartment thoroughly. Since it was furnished, it came with all the scents and stains of the previous tenants, who had not been careful housekeepers. Now the place was relatively clean, if threadbare and cramped. The Murphy bed helped with the lack of space; they didn’t pull it down unless someone needed to sleep.

  Like right now.

  But she wasn’t eager to end the rare moment where she had his complete attention. So she’d milk a few minutes more. “If you could do anything, what would that be?”

  Go ahead. Dream big for me.

  “I’d like to be rich,” he said. “Decadently so. With a private jet and my own island. Beautiful women to fan me and feed me grapes.”

  Wow. That was pretty far from her dream, so maybe he was right not to let them get closer. If that was what he really wanted, he’d never be happy with her. Gillie’s dreams were smaller and quieter—to find a job she enjoyed and eventually, start a family. Maybe it was because she had spent so much of her life alone, but she craved being surrounded by people who cared about her and needed her.

  Or maybe he’s saying that to avoid letting you get to know him better.

  “I don’t believe you,” she said, testing the insight.

  When he cut her a surprised look, quickly veiled, she knew she was right. They were just empty words, a lock on the door he was determined not to open. Taye eyed her warily, as if suspecting she might be able to read his mind.

  “How did you know?”

  “It’s a generic dream, something anyone might say, but it doesn’t tell me about you.”

  “There’s nothing to learn,” he muttered. “Haven’t you figured that out yet? I’m like one of those chocolate bunnies, nothing but air inside.”

  She touched the blue ink on his forearm. “I know that’s not true.”

  Taye studied her fingers on his skin, but he didn’t move away. “Yeah? Then why don’t I know how I got that tat? Or what it means.”

  “It means Rowan hurt you. Not that there’s no substance to the man you are now.”

  He pushed to his feet. “Aren’t you tired?”

  That hint was subtle as a brick upside the head. Yeah, I get it. Don’t get too close.

  “Go ahead and make the bed,” she said aloud. “I’m taking a quick shower.”

  When she came out in her pajamas, fifteen minutes later, he was already asleep. That didn’t surprise her; he had to be up in three hours. By this point, they had the routine down. He made more than she did, though not a lot. Between them, they earned seventeen-hundred sixty dollars a month, and this place cost four seventy-five. She’d worked out the public transportation system, taking the bus to Aldi once a week to do some grocery shopping. Twenty bucks went a long way there. By pinching pennies, they’d already saved a little, but they were still looking for someone who could hook them up with IDs.

  Once you have papers and can register for college, or whatever, Taye will be gone.

  Part of her wanted desperately to seduce him, provided she could figure out how. Living in close quarters hadn’t driven him mad with lust. They shared the bed because it was practical, but he’d never given any sign he wanted to take advantage.

  Everything will change soon, Gillie promised herself.

  CHAPTER 3

  Taye ached, and for once, it had nothing to do with Gillie. His work on the docks was backbreaking and it left him little energy for other things. But he hadn’t come straight home from his shift even though he knew she had supper waiting. One of his coworkers had tipped him to somebody who might be able to hook them up with new documents.

  That was why after eight hours spent loading containers of God knew what, he hopped a bus to the address Rodrigo had given him. The closest stop was three blocks away, and he fought the urge to pull—draw energy from an electrical source—as he walked down Cass Ave. He passed a number of bars and liquor stores before he found the right place. Taye stared up at the block building, the cement a faded, dirty gray. In the derelict bottom floor, he saw the remnants of a grocery store; they advertised fresh produce, but all the doors and windows had iron grills across them. Half of a red and white prescription sign hinted at a defunct pharmacy.

  Shit, maybe Rodrigo sent me here to get rolled.

  On the second floor, where he was supposed to go, all the windowpanes were intact, a good sign, he supposed. As he’d been instructed, he circled around back and rang the bell. The intercom crackled, and then an unfriendly male voice said, “What?”

  “I’ve come for a consultation. Rodrigo sent me.”

  “Fucking illegals,” the guy muttered. “You probably can’t afford me. But come up.”

  The heavily reinforced door buzzed, indicating it had been unlocked. Taye went in before the forger changed his mind. A dark stairwell led up and he took the stairs at a slow jog. There were three doors: one to the left, one to the right, and one at the end of the hall. He was sure it had to be the latter because like downstairs, it was new and made of metal. A camera whirred, checking him out. And then:

  “Take off your coat and boots.”

  He did, showing he wasn’t armed.

  “Leave them in the hall and come in.”

  The second door unlocked and he stepped into the man’s office. He had a lot of computer equipment, more than Taye had expected. Not that he knew shit about this business. The dude was younger than he would’ve guessed, too, no more than twenty-one, also pasty, chubby, and unkempt. His sanctum smelled of ham and cheese Hot Pockets, and he kept his hands in his lap; Taye suspected he had a hidden gun trained on his gut.

  “Did you bring cash?”

  A wave of embarrassment crashed over him. “Not today. Rodrigo sent me over to talk to you about that.”

  The other guy swore. “I knew it. I don’t take trades, I don’t take credit, and I don’t work on the installment plan.”

  “I just need to know how much and what you need from us.”

  “Us?”

  “Two of us need papers.”

  “Just passport? Or passport, driver’s license, and birth certificates?”

  Honestly he hadn’t thought that far ahead. “Probably the whole package. How much will it run?”

  “For two of you, six grand. When you can pay in full, I’ll need photos, the names you want to use, desired age, date of birth, and birthplace.”

  “And how long will it take?”

  “Seven to ten days.” He must’ve shown surprise because the guy added, “I have to find suitable
documents and clone the RFID chips, if you want to pass immigration software checks. I can get you a fake ID in twenty-four, but I figure you want more than to get into a bar.”

  “Yeah, we might need to travel.”

  Somewhere she can have a real life.

  “Thought as much. Come back when you’re ready to do business.”

  As Taye left, he realized he’d never learned the guy’s name, but it didn’t matter. Probably better that way. Working as they were, it would take several months to save that much. They were living on around nine hundred bucks, which meant they could sock away eight hundred a month, if nothing went wrong. At that rate, it would take seven and a half months to save enough for the full package. With a faint sigh, he put on his jacket and boots.

  Nobody messed with him on the way home. Maybe they read in his expression that he’d like nothing more than to fuck someone up. He covered the distance from the bus stop to the apartment in a weary fog. As he entered, he thought, At least there are no bums asleep in the lobby today. Though he’d never admit it, eagerness lent him speed. It had been a long-ass day, and he wanted to spend an hour or two with Gillie before she went to work.

  As he stepped in, he smelled beef and rice. Too bad he couldn’t eat enough to do her cooking justice. She amazed him with what she could create out of the most basic ingredients. But his stomach hurt more than usual today; he’d been hiding the pain from Gillie from the first moment they met, determined to give her no reason to fear. He’d promised to see her safe and settled, and he would, no matter what.

  “You’re home late.” She smiled, making it an observation instead of chastisement.

  Gillie served a plate with plain rice covered with beef and vegetables. Some folks called the dish picadillo, others goulash. And he had no idea why he knew that.

  He hung up his jacket and then filled her in.

  “That’s a lot of money,” she said when he finished.

  “We’ll be here awhile. The only alternative—”

  “No. I don’t want you pulling.”

  Taye didn’t tell her that his control was shaky, and they had been lucky thus far. If he ever fucked up, he’d do anything to minimize the harm to her. Even let them haul him back, if it came down to it. Whatever it takes.