Two Can Play (Entangled Ignite)

by Atkins, Dawn

  Gage joined her in the elevator, bringing his scent with him—all-man cologne and his own clean musk. The charge she got annoyed her. So you feel sexually stimulated by him? Great, now she had Maya’s words in her head.

  “How are you…after last night?” he asked softly.

  “I’m fine.” He was too damned interested, like a guy shrink, and she hadn’t appreciated him ranting about how hard it had to have been to evict her friend.

  She waved her new card over the security box and pressed eight, secretly delighted when the higher number went green for her. The elevator hummed upward.

  “Eight?” Gage said. “I thought you were on Five.” Did he miss anything?

  “I got jumped some Levels.”

  His dark eyes dug at her. “Three at once? You said it takes longer the higher you get.”

  “It usually does.” He was chipping at her own doubts, dammit.

  “This is because of last night?”

  There was no point lying. “Last night was a Threshold Quest from Nigel and Naomi, which is big, so yeah.”

  “So kicking out your friend was a test of loyalty.”

  She wanted to hit him. Instead she slammed her palm on the stop button. The car rocked to a halt with a creaky groan. She turned on him. “If I were you, I’d watch what I said about the Life from now on.”

  “That sounds like a threat.”

  “It’s a promise. If it were up to me, you’d be gone right now, but we need all the Lifers we can get at the moment. Maya says I should give you two weeks to shape up.”

  “Shape up, huh?” He looked her over. “I didn’t realize my questions bothered you so much. I appreciate the warning.”

  “Thank Maya, not me. You don’t act like you want to be here.”

  “I do. Believe me.”

  That gold light flashed in his eyes again, telling her he was sincere. She plain didn’t get him.

  “I’m trying harder, Rena. I can prove it.” He shrugged his jacket open and lifted out a folded paper. “I put my land up for sale and got an offer. I brought it in to Leland Thomas to see if I should accept it or not.”

  “You did?” That surprised her.

  “Yeah. He says I should get more money for it, so I’m going to talk to a real estate agent and do that.”

  “Oh. Well. That’s good then.” She smiled uncertainly, thinking she should say something kind. “Maya says there’s room for different kinds of Lifers.”

  “Even arrogant assholes, right?” A lock of hair flopped over his forehead making him seem young and sweet.

  She laughed. She couldn’t help it. The guy’s confidence loosened something in her. She liked that he could mock himself. She tended to get deadly serious. Maybe, as Maya said, if she stayed close, set a good example for him, he’d make a decent Lifer after all. “Don’t push it,” she said, one final warning. She started the elevator again.

  “The true test will be giving up my motorcycle,” he said.

  “You have a bike?” That made her ears perk up. She loved motorcycles.

  “A Norton Commando.”

  “A Commando? Wow.” They were old-school cycles from the ’50s—menacing, with a noisy beast of an engine—and her absolute favorite.

  “You know it?”

  “When I play Lethal Wound that’s what I ride. What size engine?”

  “Eight-fifty.”

  “Wow. Big. I’ve never driven a real one, just a Yamaha a friend had.”

  “So drive mine. For as long as I still have her.”

  Wow. She would love that. “Selling a Commando. I can see that would hurt.”

  “A sacrifice for the greater good.” He tried to sound earnest, but she didn’t buy it.

  “Try harder, but don’t bullshit.”

  “Got it. I won’t let you down, Rena.” His voice was low and he held her gaze tight. He meant it and that warmed her in a place she’d forgotten needed heat.

  “It’s the Family you’d be letting down, not me,” she said, uneasy about the guy. She’d gotten that feeling again—that Gage would have her back—when she had no evidence at all.

  When the door opened on the eighth floor, he caught her staring at him. “What?”

  “Just trying to figure you out.”

  “I’m a simple guy, believe me.” Caramel flecks simmered in the dark soup of his eyes.

  She didn’t. Not at all.

  The elevator buzzed from being held open too long, startling her.

  “After you.” He motioned for the hallway, a half smile on his face.

  Heading for her new Quarters, Rena’s heart began to race. At the door, she slid the card into the slot, then out, her hands shaking a little. No green light. “Maybe it’s not coded yet.” Maybe it was a mistake. Maybe she wasn’t supposed to jump so high so soon.

  “This is your first time up here?”

  She nodded. “The Watchers moved my gear for me.”

  “Try jiggling the card.”

  She did and it worked. She shot him a look of thanks, then opened the door to her new home.

  Oh, my God. It was so big, so airy, so beautiful. She sucked in a breath and took a slow three-sixty. There was a divider between the bedroom and the living area, and the kitchen was three times the size of her old one.

  Gage went to one of the two windows where sunlight flooded in. She joined him. “You’ve got sky,” he said.

  “I do.” Their shoulders bumped in a friendly way and she realized she was glad of his company. For the moment. She turned back to the room. The Watchers had arranged the furniture as it had been in her old place, but the pieces looked puny in all that space.

  Gage crossed to her bedroom and bent to check beneath her bed. “Your stash is in place.”

  She flushed, wondering what the Watchers thought about her hidden books. What she read seemed too personal to put out for anyone to see. At least Bunkin had been stowed in a drawer, so they hadn’t seen her only birth-mother souvenir, left with Rena in her basket in the hospital waiting room where she’d been abandoned.

  “Your bed looks smaller in here.” Gage caught her gaze, heat in his eyes.

  Her belly quivered and she couldn’t deny the shiver of want that passed through her. The sex with Gage had stayed with her, along with his scent. It was a hum in her head, a vibration on her skin. One more time? Bad idea. She was his Mentor, his guide. He should enjoy the other girls, score all the points he could. That was the fun of Lifer sex.

  “I appreciate you letting me stay, even with your doubts.” He moved close, his words softer, his breath on her cheek, his smell filling her head.

  “We need equipment techs and you’re decent in the Dome—”

  “And good in bed?” He was coaxing her. “You saw God, remember?” He ran his hands down her arms, friendly, not pushy, pleasantly warm. “Come on. Admit it. You like me a little.”

  She fought a smile. “Don’t push your luck, bucko.” She braced her palms against his chest. She hated the way her body responded to him. Her tattoo began to itch, as it did when she got agitated. She scratched it.

  Gage watched her fingers move, as though it was something sexual. “So you get more ink now, right? Since you moved up?”

  “Yeah.” She craned to look at her tat, a pale spiderweb nearly invisible in daylight. “I should hit Body Artist tonight if I can get a van. I want to be up to date for my new job.”

  Three levels would be intense. Could she handle one sitting?

  “You have a new job?”

  “Yeah. I’ve been named Dome Commander.” She couldn’t help but smile. “And that’s a manager.”

  “A manager, huh?” His eyes lit. “So that means more responsibility, right? More authority and access?”

  “The big thing is I’m the first girl Dome Commander the Phoenix Lounge has ever had. And there are only three other girl managers here besides me.” She couldn’t help a surge of pride.

  “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.