Two Can Play (Entangled Ignite)

by Atkins, Dawn

  He drove too fast, frustration a burning ball in his gut. How much could he do from the outside? How much time did he have? If Rena had tipped them to Gage’s suspicions, they’d be busy hiding the evidence.

  He’d taken the dirt turnoff to his place when he became aware of a vehicle riding his ass. Checking his mirror, he saw it was a light-colored van. From the Lounge? When the vehicle surged closer, he saw he was right. The driver, a big guy, probably a guard, seemed intent on driving him off the road. NiGo wanted him dead. Adrenaline washed through him and he poured on speed, the Commando giving all it could, the wheels easily grabbing the soft ground. There was a handgun in his trailer, but Gage would be roadkill long before he made it there.

  He had mere seconds to save himself. His gaze darted side to side as he made the next turn. He was coming up on the wash. A controlled crash into the tangle of brush on the downhill slope might work. It was worth a try.

  He slowed so the van would be close enough for the driver to see him catch air off the shoulder. He planned to push off from the bike, tuck into a ball, and hope the brush would cushion his fall. If not, he’d snap his neck. At least it would be quick.

  He sped around the turn, grateful for the perfection of his bike’s handling. Steadying his nerves and his breathing, he tightened his muscles and braced on the pegs, visualizing the move. It was Rena’s tumbling trick, he realized. His life depended on how well he’d absorbed her instructions.

  If he survived the fall, he had to hope the driver would be too lazy to take the steep slope through dense tangle to verify the kill. With a flash of regret over the damage to his bike, Gage veered for the shoulder and as the bike left the ground, he pushed to his feet and jumped out. Just as he tucked, his cell phone went off. If it was Rena, she was too damn late.

  He caught the flash of the van headlights, heard his bike hit the trees. Something snapped, the pain was insane, and everything went black.

  …

  By the end of her Dome shift at six, Rena’s hazy calm from the IV of Electrique had faded, leaving her with a hellish hangover. She felt like a rag doll someone had emptied of stuffing, shaky and hollow, with a throbbing head. The only good news was that her thinking had cleared.

  Confirm not black… Rescue essential. What the hell had Maya meant? Rescue from what? From Cassie’s fate. Death? From a drug overdose? Or the chemicals she’d consumed in all the Electrique she’d drunk?

  That couldn’t be true. No. She pictured Nigel’s baby-fine hair, his bald spot, the way he held her hand in both of his. She saw Naomi’s loving smile. They couldn’t be behind anything so terrible. What about Maya? Maya looked out for her. She’d lied about Cassie’s rehab, but only for Rena’s own good.

  Gage’s words rang in her brain. Trust me, Rena. Trust yourself. Trust what happened between us. That was real. Trust that.

  But how could she? Which was the real Gage? The grief-stricken brother desperate for justice? The sleazy reporter who’d twisted Rena’s mind until she doubted all she knew? Or the man who’d held her close in the dark woods, pointing out Orion’s belt, listening to her story, making her feel cared-for and safe?

  Rena pressed her temples with her palms, feeling like her skull might burst like a water balloon, her brain pressured into liquid.

  She headed for Blood Electric to be with people, to hear music, to focus on what was good and right in the Life—anything not to be alone with her thoughts. Inside the bar, she spotted Leland Thomas in a back booth. On impulse, she joined him. “Leland,” she said.

  “Rena.” His eyes were wet, his lids drooping. Drunk. Just great. She needed someone who could talk straight, not slur and fog out on her.

  “What’s wrong, Leland?” she asked, thinking about more than what had caused him to toss back too much liquor.

  “You don’t want to know.”

  “I think I do,” she said. Did he know Cassie was dead? “I think I have to know.”

  Before he could speak again, their waitress arrived. It was Holly. Rena greeted her.

  “Guess what?” Holly said, eyes bright with excitement. “I’m up a level. I go for my Level Three tattoo soon. Yellow. I love yellow. So sunshiny!”

  “That’s great, Holly. You earned it.”

  “What can I get you?” She was so perky. How much of that was due to Electrique? Rena looked around the room. Every Lifer in the arena was under the influence. And not by accident. When Rena had tried to cut back, they’d quickly topped her off with an IV of the stuff.

  Leland ordered another V-Trique.

  “Just E,” Rena said, forcing a smile. She wanted to lick her addiction, but wasn’t sure when or how to start. Watching Holly bounce away, Rena said, “I used to feel that way—excited about every bit of progress.”

  “Not anymore?” He slanted her a glance. “What changed?”

  “It’s hard to talk about.” She wasn’t sure she could trust him, but she had to start somewhere. He might know things that would help her figure this out. She began with a test. “I heard Cassie is in rehab.”

  He snorted and shook his head. “Rehab? Like the farm where Daddy took the dog that kept peeing on the Persian? You bet. Cassie’s in rehab.” He shook his head. “You shouldn’t listen to me. I’m drunk enough to say too much.” He knew. He definitely knew. Now what?

  Their drinks arrived and Leland clicked his glass against hers. “To the greater good,” he said, then laughed bitterly. “I’m just a bean counter. What do I know?” He gulped most of his drink in one swallow.

  “I think you know plenty,” she said. “You know that Cassie’s dead, for one thing. Maya told me, too.”

  “She told you?” His gaze shot to hers, his booziness instantly erased.

  “She said Cassie killed herself.”

  “You believe that?” Leland’s eyes dug in.

  “No,” she whispered, relieved to say it out loud. “She told me Cassie took a bribe not to talk about whoever was stealing gamer money.” Rena’s mouth was so dry her lips stuck together. Each word betrayed the Life.

  Leland shook his head, slow and steady. “You know her better than that. Cassie didn’t care about money.” He pushed the dregs of his drink away.

  “She was my best friend and I evicted her. I sent her to her death.” Emotion welled up, turning her nerves to flames beneath her skin. She tightened every muscle against the pain. Saying it out loud made it real.

  “You followed orders. You had no idea what you were doing.”

  “I need to know what’s going on. Tell me what you know.”

  “I can’t.” He began shredding his napkin with short jerks. “I don’t want you on my conscience, too.”

  “Then answer my questions.” She checked their vicinity for eavesdroppers. “Did anyone get fired over the gamer theft?”

  “Fired?” He gave a short laugh. “They got promoted. There are people whose whole job is to lure deviants into the game, then blackmail them.”

  “It’s a job?” Her heart sank. Her whole body seemed weighted down. She didn’t want to know this. It ruined everything she loved.

  “We pull in a hundred K a month that way. NiGo is in deep weeds. If the new game doesn’t double subscribers, we’ll go bankrupt.”

  The news crushed her, but at least she was hearing the truth at last. “Who’s in charge of it? Mason?”

  “No doubt. In the nineties, he was CFO of a big investment firm that scammed retirement funds. He weaseled out of an indictment somehow.”

  “Does Nigel know what’s going on? Or Naomi?” She had that much hope. That her heroes were innocent of such ugly acts.

  “Who knows? Mason does what he wants. He has free rein. If I didn’t have kids in college, I’d quit today. Hell, they might fire me. Mason yanked my people off the Scrip Banque in the middle of the patch they came up with and put in this twerp who’s supposed to be a hot-shit hacker.”

  Rena’s mind spun. Leland’s story fit easily into Gage’s accusations.

  “H
ey, I’ve upset you,” Leland said. “I’m drunk and bitter and babbling. Go about your business, Rena. It’s too soon for you to worry. Maybe we’ll pull out of the dive. The new game’s supposed to rock.”

  “I want to fix what’s wrong.” Gage had been right about her. She did want to know that what she believed in was right and true.

  “Stay out of it, Rena. Mason’s got eyes and ears everywhere. Those Watchers he hired are up to a bunch of clandestine crap.” He reached for his drink, then stopped. “I’m not a drunk. And neither was Cassie.”

  “I was,” she said. “Maya brought me into the Life and I got straight.”

  “That’s good. That’s what appealed to me about the job—the way NiGo helped kids in trouble. I thought we were doing good. Jesus.” He shook his head.

  “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 p
ath, 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.