‘Mags, make sure you’re out of here in half an hour.’
I nodded. ‘Mom said she thought you met someone,’ I said, casually looking over his shoulder to check on Gus. The contact had arrived and was sitting opposite Gus at a small table. The guy was short with slick black hair. I could see the hardness in his eyes and the bulge in his jacket that told me he was carrying. Super. Another armed baddie.
‘Mom gets too excited,’ Sam said, glancing around the bar again. He wasn’t scoping for work to do. He was scoping the crowd. The female crowd.
‘She said you rated high,’ I pushed, feeling irritated that his attention was so fleeting. We lived in the same house, but we barely ever saw each other. Wasn’t I worth a few minutes?
Samuel looked back at me and shrugged. ‘Not looking for anything permanent. You know that.’
I sighed. I didn’t want people to live by the ratings system, but I wished he’d be open to finding someone he could care about. Samuel lived by the system more than anyone I knew, but he used the ratings to ensure he never got close to anyone. He only pursued low rating lust-matches. One night was more than enough as far as he was concerned.
‘You going to be home any night this week?’ I asked, but he’d already caught the scent of my disapproval and stiffened.
‘Mom said you’re hardly around yourself. What? You got some kind of puppy love for this guy or something?’
I snorted. This conversation was on a fast track to nowhere and I needed to get back to work. ‘I promise I’ll be out of here in half an hour,’ I snapped.
Samuel seemed to agree the chat was over because his lips pursed and then he stormed off. Another golden family moment.
Ignoring the lump in my throat, I turned my attention back to Gus’s exchange. He was leaning forwards, and I watched as he glanced in my direction.
Perfect.
Gus knew better than to make eye contact.
Sure enough, the man with the slick hair turned to look in my direction. Not missing a beat, I smiled sweetly and downed my shot of tequila, fighting the gag reflex and biting down on the corner of my bottom lip. The contact smirked and looked away. Apparently I’d made myself look like enough of a party girl to lose his interest for now.
Knowing I’d need to keep a low profile from here on out, I turned my attention back to the bar, where I could just make out Gus’s table in the splashback mirror.
‘Never would’ve guessed I’d see you here,’ a voice said from behind my ear. It was a voice that caused an unwelcome reaction.
I breathed in slowly, keeping my eyes down. Tonight was turning into one big cluster-f …
‘I guess age doesn’t matter in your world. Doors just open, right,’ I said, not turning around.
Quentin leaned in and, when he spoke next, I could smell the rum on his breath. ‘In yours too, it appears,’ he said, surprising me by leaning even closer.
‘Back off,’ I warned, now turning slightly towards him.
When I got a good look at him, my breath caught, causing him to smirk. As much as I didn’t want to admit it, he was a visual feast in his jeans and a fitted white shirt with the top few buttons undone. But it was the scar at his hairline that drew my eyes the most. Something about it made him seem somehow … real.
I averted my eyes when I saw his smile widening. I could hear him breathe deeply through his nose. For some inconvenient reason I was suddenly on edge. That is, until he said, ‘Never would’ve picked you for the tequila type.’
That was when I realised his smile wasn’t so much a smile as a challenge. Quentin wasn’t happy about me being in his life, and he most certainly wasn’t happy about me crashing his night out. And it appeared he’d acquired some liquid courage.
I glanced down the bar and spotted his two older brothers sitting in a corner booth with a pair of breasty blondes who no doubt scored off the charts in the lust department. Classy.
‘Go back to your table, Quentin. I’m sure if you’re a good boy, you’ll get your very own Barbie for Christmas.’
He turned towards his brothers and flinched when he noticed they were looking in our direction. Out of nowhere he suddenly stumbled over his own, stationary, feet.
He righted himself and stepped towards me, swaying right into my personal space. He placed a hand on my waist and tugged me close. With barely a breath between us, I arched back. I hadn’t thought he was this drunk a moment ago.
‘I don’t want a Barbie,’ he growled. ‘And it’s a good thing too, since it seems the only thing I’ve got lately is you.’
A combination of things happened at that moment. Quentin’s grip on my waist tightened, almost desperately. I felt a surge of guilt and something else in response to his touch, and I glanced at Gus’s table just long enough to see his contact register the fact that I had Quentin Mercer draped over me.
Gus was talking fast, his hands raised in a placating gesture. His contact was pissed.
Quentin sighed. ‘I think I’m drunk,’ he confessed, unaware that his presence had just put us all in danger. The black-market world was strictly a Mercer-free zone.
I grabbed his hands off my waist and pushed him back. ‘You think?’ I barked, angry with him for ruining our trade. I needed to move. Fast.
He blinked, then seemed to remember where we were. ‘How’d you get in here?’ he asked.
‘My brother works here. He snuck me in,’ I answered, my attention still focused on the other table.
Gus’s contact stood up and snatched the payment disk from the table. That disk had our hard-earned money on it. I waited, watching Gus and ignoring Quentin.
‘My family knows about you. They want to meet you.’
That, and the flat tone of this statement, was almost enough to make me look at him. But I waited until Gus turned to me. His heated expression made me grimace. He shook his head.
‘Damn it,’ I said.
‘Yeah, I don’t like it either,’ Quentin carried on. ‘Why don’t you just come over and sit with us for a bit. It might be enough.’
I turned cold eyes on him. ‘Not tonight.’ I pushed past him and started for the door, but he grabbed my wrist.
‘At least come over and say hello.’
I spun back around. I really didn’t have time for this so I got right up in his face. ‘I’m the last thing between you and a very unhappily ever after. Tell me what to do again, and I’ll do something that only one of us will ever regret. Now let go of me and go back to your table. Alone.’
His hand dropped to his side and I sped towards the door. I ran out the door and around to the back of the club, where I found Gus taking a right hook to the face. Anger flared. He might not be my friend, but he was mine to protect. I’d promised him that much.
Not breaking stride, I marched right up to the contact, who was lining Gus up for another jab, and grabbed his shoulder. In a split second I spun him around before I landed my own right hook in his eye. The contact stumbled, letting go of Gus who promptly slid to the ground. He was such a lightweight.
The contact grabbed at his face where I’d just hit him. ‘You bitch. I’m gonna mess you up for that.’
I knew I was meant to have some witty comeback. And trust me, I’d like to have the luxury of retort time, but I was too busy shoving my elbow into his face, followed by the heel of my palm to his nose, and then moving in so that when I kneed him it hit just right. I’d work on fitting an appropriately cutting remark into the sequence next time.
As it was, it was satisfying enough to see him go to his knees, clutching at his bits.
I leaned forwards, holding onto his collar as I reached into his too-tight jeans and pulled out our money disk.
‘Gus came for intel and he was happy to pay for it. I know you have it on you, and I could easily go fishing until I find it …’ The thought of poking around in his skin-tight pockets made me shudder. ‘But if I have to do that, you’re not getting this.’ I waved our disk under his nose. ‘We came for a trade. Now do
you want one or not?’
I heard a loud groan and glanced at Gus, who was stumbling to his feet. I rolled my eyes.
The contact looked at Gus. ‘You need a girl to be your bodyguard?’ he sneered.
Gus wiped at the tiny drop of blood in the corner of his mouth. ‘Jealous, Travis?’
The contact – Travis – sighed and looked back at me. ‘You gonna beat the shit out of me if I hand it over?’
‘Not unless you try anything else stupid.’
‘I saw you with that Mercer kid. He was all over you.’ He watched for my reaction suspiciously.
I crossed my arms. ‘Can’t help it if the guy is desperate, can I?’ He held my eyes for a beat. I waited. Finally, he pressed his lips together and made his decision, reaching into his back pocket and producing a slim zip drive.
I took it from his outstretched hand.
‘I trust we can move forwards from here,’ I said. ‘No point in us doing this deal if we can’t trade again.’ It was the truth. We were paying for intel we already had, just to test the waters.
Travis’s ease with the current scene was enough to let me know he was a seasoned trader. And not afraid of things getting messy. Both good and bad news.
‘I’d prefer you didn’t beat me up every time, but my end will hold up. If yours does too, we can talk again. Expect me to bring my own bodyguards next time. And don’t be having no Mercer kid hanging around again.’
Gus, apparently finished with the night’s activities, started walking away. ‘I’m going to get the car. And a fucking aspirin,’ he said.
I passed Travis the money disk. ‘Hopefully, next time you won’t even see me.’
He took the disk and stood. ‘Honey, I don’t mind looking at you. I’d just prefer it wasn’t your knee making contact with my balls next time.’
I didn’t have a response for that. Frankly, I didn’t want any part of my body near his balls again. Ever.
I waited a moment, to give Travis time to disappear, before heading after Gus. I wasn’t in a rush. Gus was out of danger and all I had to look forward to was him bitching at me the entire drive home.
‘Good trade?’
Could. This. Night. Get. Any. More. Screwed. Up?
I turned slowly.
Quentin stood just inside the alley and I instantly wondered how much he had seen or heard. Gus had been well within the alleyway’s shadows but still … Had Quentin recognised him? Had I said anything that would give us away?
I put my hands on my hips and straightened my back as Quentin stalked towards me. Curiously, he wasn’t stumbling now.
When he got close enough, he smirked and raised his eyebrows. ‘Desperate, huh?’
Guess he’d heard quite a bit.
I shrugged. It wasn’t as if he would have preferred me to give Travis the real explanation. I gestured a hand towards him. ‘Did you just pull the drunk act so you could cop a feel in there?’
Quentin seemed surprised, even pleased, by my observation. He stood taller, letting go of any pretence that he wasn’t in control of his actions. Oh, he’d had a drink or two, but nowhere near the amount his behaviour had indicated inside Burn.
‘Just keeping up appearances.’
I assumed he meant for his brothers, given that he was supposed to be out with them. But just in case he’d had any ulterior motive, I moved into his space. This time it was him who arched back.
‘Did you think you could get me to pander to your every need? That the gorgeous Quentin Mercer was so irresistible? You forget, I know the truth,’ I said, leaving the ‘neg’ word hanging heavily between us. ‘Trust me, you don’t want to play with me, Mercer. I play dirty.’ Oddly, I hoped he was paying attention.
His head tilted carefully, his eyes locked on mine, and I accepted his reluctant nod.
‘Who are you?’ This question came in a low voice coated in vulnerability and uncertainty. I couldn’t help but feel a spark of protectiveness towards him. Which only pissed me off.
‘Right now? I’m the difference between you having a future or not. Go home and forget about tonight because tomorrow we have work to do.’
For all my bravado, he seemed to see something different in my eyes. I watched as the corner of his mouth lifted slightly and felt how, for some crazy reason, my own lips did the same. I quickly turned my back to him and started down the alley.
‘So you think I’m gorgeous, huh?’ he called out after me, mischief in his voice.
I kept walking. I wasn’t about to defend my slip-up. Or the traitorous smile I wasn’t quite able to wipe from my face.
Nine
I made my way through classes the next day, feeling the weight of eyes following me. A target had been painted on my back since my apparent rating with Mercer, the rest of the students unsure what it might mean. I tried to ignore the stares, but it was cumbersome to have to deal with the increased male attention.
Sitting down in my English Studies class, I noticed a group of guys passing around a bottle of pills. I also noticed that Quentin – sitting in his usual seat in the back – waved them off when offered.
Celery and zinc are forms of androsterone, making them a ‘natural’ aid to increasing perceived attraction. Result: guys threw back zinc supplements like tic-tacs and girls drank celery juice like water.
Half of them didn’t even have active Phera-tech yet. I shook my head and doodled in my notebook as I waited for class to begin. Mr Ferris was always late.
When Phera-tech started, labs went crazy, flooding the market with perfumes and sprays they claimed enhanced pheromone output, which would help people attract better partners. Most were rip-offs and the ones that did work attracted everyone, sending out a wide signal that responded in the same way to all recipients. The fakes were easy to spot and quickly outlawed. Following that, the tech was updated to ensure a more accurate pheromone reading.
However, even if someone used the external pheromones and doused themselves in enhancing perfumes, nothing could override a neg rating.
Dad had been interested in the way Phera-tech worked too, but his tests had been different.
His attention had been on altering the way one person released a pheromone signature. He had been doing similar things in his work, making pesticides for crop farms. Dad had developed a range of pesticides that ‘re-educated’ attraction between insects. In the end, his fascination had cost him his freedom, our family, and maybe his life.
My father had been trying to make a difference. And he’d been making headway too. But he’d also had one failed experiment. One that had changed not the way a signal was released, but how it was received.
It was the remains of that experiment that I’d poured into Quentin’s inhaler.
‘You’re Maggie, right?’ Ryan Merit said as he took his seat beside me.
I pinched the bridge of my nose and sighed. ‘You’ve been sitting next to me in this class all year, and now you want to know my name?’
He smiled sheepishly and I could tell he intended it to be charming. Ryan was ‘that’ guy. Correction, if Quentin wasn’t already ‘that’ guy at school, it would’ve been Ryan. He was tall, dark and handsome, in that captain-of-the-rowing-team kind of way. But he didn’t have the edge to him that Quentin had and, well, he wasn’t a Mercer, so he simply didn’t carry the same social cred. But still, he was an over achiever and the kind of guy you wouldn’t be surprised to hear had set up office in the White House one day. Oval shaped.
‘I’ve always known your name,’ he said. ‘I just thought maybe it was time we got to know one another a bit … better.’ When I didn’t respond, he cleared his throat. ‘Coffee?’
Suddenly it felt as if the temperature in the room had dropped to freezing. I noticed the nervous flicker of Ryan’s eyes as he looked beyond me. The combination of small gasps and wide eyes from the students sitting around me confirmed where the chill was coming from.
I took a deep breath before shaking my head and looking down at my notes. ‘Not inte
rested,’ I said.
I glanced up in time to see Ryan’s eyes flicker behind me again, right before he glanced at my M-Band. ‘Maybe you should give the tech some more time. You might be pleasantly surprised.’
Oh, wow. I was about to tell him where to go when the screech of a chair behind us stopped me. Ryan bit his lip, as if contemplating his next move. When he glanced back at me, his sheepish smile had returned. ‘Or not,’ he said, turning his attention to the front of the class.
There was no need to turn around. Unlike Ryan, I knew everyone’s name and where they sat. Especially Quentin Mercer.
He was playing his part. I knew that. Still, it was an impressive display of possessiveness. Quentin had just made a clear statement that I knew would travel the school halls in record time.
But had he needed to be so full on? Hadn’t he wanted to avoid attention? Or was his reaction something different?
I shut my eyes tight, forcing myself not to look over my shoulder and into his eyes. I needed to stop thinking about him. An image of Dad flashed into my mind and I held onto it.
When I opened my eyes, it was with a fresh resolve. Tonight, I’d put Quentin to the test.
‘Where are we going?’ Quentin asked. He’d been waiting for me by my locker after the last class. I was almost surprised he’d turned up; he hadn’t appeared in the two afternoon classes we shared. In fact, I hadn’t seen him since English Studies.
His arms were crossed and his forehead creased. It was distracting. His buzz-short hair and olive skin lent itself well to the furrowed, solemn look. Too well.
‘What’s up with you?’ I asked, trying to ignore his glare while I put my books away.
He waited until I was finished. ‘You need to stop flirting.’
I did not see that one coming.
‘I didn’t think I was. It was you who was getting handsy last night from memory,’ I snapped.
His nostrils flared. ‘Not with me. With every other guy in the school!’
‘Didn’t peg you for the jealous type. But, again, I hadn’t realised I was.’ Despite having to reject a few more invitations for study dates or after-school coffees, and one offer of a lift home, which to be honest, under normal circumstances I probably would’ve taken just because I hated the bus, I hadn’t flirted at all. ‘What’s your problem anyway?’
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