DANGER’S
VICE
A HOLLY DANGER NOVEL:
BOOK TWO
AMANDA CARLSON
Outskirts never die…
After narrowly escaping death, Holly is back on the streets in a quest to find the elusive pico. Discovering what’s on the quantum drive—the same one the zealot had been willing to die for—is priority number one. Forgiving the kid has proven to be easier than she’d thought, but the cranky outskirt is another story.
It doesn’t take Holly long to discover that Tandor’s crew hasn’t been obliterated, and are actively seeking retribution. They’re recruiting Northerners, but she’s found one who’s willing to spill. It’s a good thing, too, since things are starting to get strange. On the hunt she stumbles on an old man dressed in a burial cloth, and witnesses a seeker wandering the streets where it shouldn’t be.
After a friend gets caught up in the fray, Holly’s hand is forced. She has to act quickly to procure the information she needs. But what she learns is harrowing. The outskirts aren’t just taking over the city—they’re infecting people with Plush, and the quantum drive may hold the only key. The only problem is, it might be too late…
Danger’s Vice
A HOLLY DANGER NOVEL: BOOK TWO
Copyright © 2017 Amanda Carlson, Inc.
ISBN: 978-1-944431-03-7
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems—except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews—without permission in writing from the author.
This book is a work of fiction. The characters, events, and places portrayed in this book are products of the author’s imagination and are either fictitious or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
Table of Contents
DANGER’S VICE
About the Book
Copyright
Other Books by Amanda Carlson
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Sneak Peek of DANGER’S RACE
About the Author
Many Thanks
Other Books by Amanda Carlson
Jessica McClain Series:
Urban Fantasy
BLOODED
FULL BLOODED
HOT BLOODED
COLD BLOODED
RED BLOODED
PURE BLOODED
BLUE BLOODED
Sin City Collectors:
Paranormal Romance
ACES WILD
ANTE UP
ALL IN
Phoebe Meadows:
Contemporary Fantasy
STRUCK
FREED
EXILED
Holly Danger:
Futuristic Dystopian
DANGER’S HALO
DANGER’S VICE
DANGER’S RACE
DANGER’S CURE
For Dad. I love you.
CHAPTER ONE
“What do you mean she’s in holding?” I paced in front of the worktable where Lockland sat, fingers pressed to his temples like he was trying to force back a headache. That made two of us. “What the hell is holding anyway?” I braced my fists on top of the cool metal, leaning over so I could get my answer up close and personal.
I was tired. Sleep had been evasive at best. Daze had almost died the night before, so I’d been up on and off, never really settling into any good REM.
But the kid was better, so that was a plus.
I’d arrived in Port Station this morning to pick up my craft, only to find her missing. She’d been parked in a hard-to-reach location—like, on-top-of-a-building hard to reach.
“I’m working on it.” Lockland raised his head. Smudges darkened the skin underneath his eyes, indicating he hadn’t slept all that well either. “The guards brought her in.”
The table in Bender’s workshop that I was hovering over was covered in junk. Pixie motors, dirty rags, random fittings, and for the first time, I noticed some distinctly shaped items of the personal pleasure variety.
I stood, raising a single eyebrow.
Doing my best to ignore the assortment of colorful and unnaturally glossy toys, I made my way over to a nearby chair and sat. I sighed. “Where did they take her?” I brought a hand up to my hair and tried to brush it away from my face, but my fingers got hooked in the uncooperative mess, which fell around my shoulders in thick, ropy strands, saturated with sweat and who knew what else. A trip to a cleaning stall was high on my to-do list. After everything else. “And how did they achieve that? She was parked on top of a fucking building. At an angle.”
“They have a mover drone,” Lockland replied. Along with the half-moons shadowing his lower lids, the jet-black stubble tracing his clenched jaw was longer than usual, and his short hair was in need of a trim. Seeing Lockland unkempt was unusual, as the man took it to heart to stay kempt, but I understood why. None of us had had time to do anything other than survive the last few days. “Like people used before the dark days to transport large objects like floating craft and construction bots.”
“Yeah, I know what a mover drone is. Thanks for that.” I stood, irked that we’d found ourselves in this predicament. It’d been a lot of years since anyone had gotten the best of us. We were a solid team, working as a single unit, with the number-one priority being keeping each other alive. It was the only way to survive in this city. We each had a talent. Mine was salvaging and keeping my ear to the ground, making sure nobody messed with us, and if they did, they paid for it.
I’d failed big-time. I’d missed something huge.
Outskirts had descended into town two months prior with plans to take over the city. It was unacceptable that we hadn’t had any intel before last week. The only saving grace was that I’d made their leader pay by searing a big hole through his chest, almost losing my life in the process. I had zero regrets. I’d do it again in a heartbeat.
I wandered toward the large graphene wall that separated us from the outside, my titanium-toed boots clacking over the chipped mezzanine floor. Bender’s shop was enormous. It used to house retail space before disaster struck, back when industry had thrived. Instead of like now, when making do by salvaging and repairing whatever the hell you could find was all we had.
Resting a shoulder against one of the massive pillars, I crossed my arms. “We have something extremely valuable stored inside Luce”—my head bobbed between Lockland and Bender, who sat on his usual stool, stationed close to the cooling unit—“and it’s imperative we get her back as soon as possible.”
The quantum drive that Daze, my new sustainee, had stolen from Tandor, the zealot freak who’d threatened to take over the government, was tucked away inside a secret compartment under my craft’s dash. We had no idea what was on it, but whatever data it contained, it was important. The odds that the guards in Port Station had discovered it were iffy, but they existed. My hidey-holes were secure, but a pro would find it eventually.
“We’ll get her back,” Bender said gru
ffly as he stood.
“I sure as hell hope so,” I said, my frustration leaking through my words like a gas canister with a puncture. “Any word on Darby’s location?” Our friend and resident tech wizard-slash-scientist had been detained by the government. We’d had very little news thus far, which was concerning.
“No,” Lockland answered. “Claire has been unresponsive.”
“Since when?” I dropped my arms, pushing away from the pillar, my burgeoning headache forgotten in an instant.
“Late last night.”
Bender grabbed a large box off a shelf and brought it over to a worktable, where he began rummaging inside for something, his biceps straining his frayed shirtsleeves as he moved. Bender was one of the most intimidating presences in the dark city. His shiny, bald dome gleamed without a speck of hair, and his muscles were corded and well defined. He stood a head taller than most and used that height to his advantage. “That’s not like her,” he grumbled, his face aimed inside the box, his hands shifting things around. “Something has to be wrong.”
“I couldn’t agree more,” I said, making my way over to see what he was doing. “She always picks up.” I addressed Lockland. “What did she say when you last spoke with her?”
“The conversation was a little strange,” Lockland admitted, coming to join us. “She sounded distant and hurried.”
“Distant how?” I plucked up the object Bender had just set on the worktable and turned it over in my hand. It resembled a hydro-bomb, but it had a hard, bumpy coating. “You were on a tech phone. How could she sound distant?” I glanced at Bender. “What the hell are these things?” It sat heavy in my palm. Bombs were light, usually made of compressed, highly flammable gas.
Bender grinned. “It’s a fuel rocket. I remembered I had these once we came back from dealing with that asshole Tandor. They would’ve come in handy.”
I examined the new toy. “These are what I’d call back-in-the-day bombs, but they give a nice directional blast, from what I’ve heard. I’ve never used one.” The top of the oval was weaker than the rest of the body. It was meant to break first, localizing the direction of the explosion. I met Lockland’s gaze across the table. His mouth was turned down in a frown as I continued to manhandle the fuel rocket. “What? These things have a tough skin, and the activation switch is tucked inside a false bottom.” I slid my thumb over the rough exterior to prove my point. “It’s not going to break in my hand.” He said nothing, but he continued to judge the situation with his eyes, like a father would a child’s naughty behavior. I set the bomb down carefully and huffed, crossing my arms. “Fine. You haven’t finished telling us why Claire sounded distant. Please continue.”
“I’m not sure.” Lockland began to pace. “It’s possible there was frequency interference, but I didn’t hear any of the telltale breaks. She just sounded far away. She said the government was still holding Darby in one of the main cells, but they’d be moving him soon and she’d let us know. That was it.”
Once all the bombs had been unpacked, Bender transferred them one by one to a battered but sturdy carrying case with a cushy chemical foam interior, no doubt to load them into his craft so he’d have them on hand from now on. Bender flew a G5 dronecraft, which was known for its stability and reinforced frame, making it one of the most durable crafts ever made. It was parked on the roof of this building in a protected slot. If you messed with his craft, Bender would find you, and everyone in all the neighborhoods knew it.
“If the government gave Darby Babble, like Tandor did, to weasel information out of him,” Bender growled, “he likely ratted us out, including Claire. She was probably in a hurry to get to a safe place.”
I shook my head. “I don’t think so. I heard months ago that the government ran out of Babble.” Babble was an injectable truth serum developed well before the dark days. Once given a dose, you were compelled to answer any question truthfully, in full, glaring detail, and you remembered zilch when you woke. “I have no idea how Tandor got his hands on it, but if Claire was in the process of running, it had to be because of something else.” I thought about it. “Maybe she wasn’t actually fleeing. She could’ve been distracted. She’s working hard to help Darby, and you know how she gets.” Claire had been a stabilizing force in my life from age nine on and, in my opinion, was stronger than all of us put together. Multitasking was an artform to her, but juggling so many things would wear anyone out eventually. “If I know anything about Claire, it’s that she’s trying to get Darby out of government hands, all while sacrificing her well-being and everything else along with it. She’ll do whatever it takes, however long it takes.” How Darby got snatched by the government was still a mystery. Last we’d heard, Tandor and his group had him, after luring Darby into their snare by convincing him he was working on a cure to combat the Plush addiction.
Instead, Tandor had given him Babble, so he could infiltrate our crew.
It’d worked, and the zealot had been able to track us down. Everything had exploded in our faces soon after.
Plush was a powerful pharma-psychotic drug that flooded the brain with endorphins, blissing out whoever took it to unfathomable heights. The only problem was, one dose left you completely addicted and permanently altered. We called the addicts pleasure seekers—seekers, for short. The more of the toxic cocktail they ingested, the more their body chemistry changed, making them wildly aggressive and hazardous to everyone’s health. Dying at the hands of a seeker was death by mutilation. Not a pretty way to go.
It was widely speculated that the government had provided seekers with a steady stream of Plush to keep them in check, even before the dark days, though it had never been confirmed.
But seekers had to have been getting their fix from someplace. They certainly weren’t making it themselves.
Lockland poured himself a cup of water from a jug on the counter. Water was something we had in abundance around here since it rained twenty-four seven. The rare day that the city went without precip was considered a holiday—but only if you liked celebrating things by donning a face mask so you didn’t inhale a lungful of iron dust. The particles in the air increased when the droplets of rain didn’t encase them and carry them safely to the ground. Because of the constant iron-rich environment, everything around here was stained a lovely rust color.
“I agree. Claire will do whatever it takes to get Darby out,” Lockland said between sips. “She could’ve been in a hurry. It might not have anything to do with his situation. I refuse to leap to any conclusions at the moment. We’ll give her another half a day to get a hold of us before we act. Until then, we sit tight.”
“How’s the kid?” Bender carried the container of fuel rockets over to a door that led to a hallway, which in turn led to Bender’s private quarters, as well as the roof.
My new sustainee, Daze, had suffered greatly under Tandor. He’d been captured as a street kid and forced to lie to me to stay alive, all while trying to protect his friend. But he’d double-crossed Tandor in the end, almost sacrificing his life for ours.
I’d decided to forgive him.
“Without the medi-pod at the barracks, he would’ve died.” I walked over to the counter and braced my hips against it. I’d ended up flying Case’s Q7 to his safe place by the sea after we’d defeated Tandor. If we hadn’t made it in time, Daze would’ve succumbed to his injuries. “We’re staying at the bunker for another week for ongoing treatments. But the kid is scrappy. He’ll be fine. He wanted to come today, but I told him no. He needs a few more days before he’s fully mobile. But, just so you know, he’s sorry. He’ll tell you in person when he gets a chance.”
Lockland opened the cooling unit next to me and set the water jug inside. “What about this Case guy? Is he militia? Or an outskirt?” His gaze landed firmly on mine, his eyes intent as he closed the door. “He played a part in saving the kid and provided more than a distraction at the gorge, but there are questions that need answering. Tandor and his crew knew where to find us yest
erday. They picked us up within hours. Nobody knew our plans, except the three of us.” He nodded between Bender and me as he positioned himself less than a meter away, crossing his arms, his legs splayed. It was his don’t fuck with me pose, and it was highly effective.
It was time to come clean.
I bobbed my head down. This was a tricky story to tell. Tandor and his men had known our movements because Case had placed a tracker inside me—between the first and middle fingers on my right hand—and had been feeding them information, playing both sides.
At the time, it’d made us enemies.
In retaliation, I’d drugged him with a tranq dart rammed none-too-gently into his thigh. It should’ve knocked him out for hours, but he’d somehow fought through the effects and ended up providing the distraction we needed to defeat Tandor, as well as taking out a number of Tandor’s men with his craft. Then he’d helped me get Daze back to safety, to the only nongovernmental medi-pod I knew existed anywhere.
In my eyes, that made him neutral.
Neither ally, nor adversary.
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