Ryker repeats his earlier gesture, bares his teeth in my direction. “As I said. After you.”
A breeze wends its way through the open window in the room. I welcome it, pressed back into the chair and covered in sweat as I am. The gun hasn’t left my skin for a second, and I’m intimately familiar with the imprint of it. It smells like metal and something sharp, acrid. My parents never brought their weapons home, but I’d pick up the same stench on their clothes whenever they came back from training. These days, people don’t use the old-fashioned guns unless they’re trying to make a point. I bite my lip hard to stop myself from spiralling. This feels like a fever dream. It feels like a nightmare.
Across the room, Tanisira leans against the wall. With her arms crossed, she adopts a look of polite boredom. My guttwists violently every time I catch sight of her—it just looks so authentic—and every time I do, confusing words play in my mind.
Flesh. Trafficker. Greed.
Ryker sits on the edge of a ratty desk, having once again placed himself strategically. He looks from me to Tanisira and back again, an indecipherable gleam in those alluring eyes. His other goon left with the idiot from downstairs, so it’s four of us in a room so thick with tension that I’m choking on it.
“What were you doing up here?” he asks.
I blink at him, aware of how dry my mouth is, how hard I’m shaking. But Tanisira’s angle is obvious, and I need to work with it. I force myself to gather some semblance of control.
I clear my throat. “We snuck up here to make out. Didn’t think anyone was around.”
Ryker raises a sceptical eyebrow. “With that guy?”
I mimic a shrug. “I had a few drinks; he was nearby.” My voice trembles and I’m glad the gun is still nestled at the nape of my neck. Could anyone be expected to talk steadily in this situation?
“And him howling in pain, that was—what? A little foreplay?” He smirks, but there’s no amusement in his eyes whatsoever. My skin crawls, and I want to curl up into a ball. What happens if he decides he doesn’t believe me? Us?
I flash my own smirk at him, forcing myself to relax, even just a little, to back up my claims. “He wouldn’t take no for an answer. I wanted a quick fumble, not what he was trying to push me into. I had a few drinks, but I’m not an idiot; I’m not sucking a rando’s dick in a dingy pub.”
This seems to give Ryker pause. He leans back, gaze skittering over my face in intense scrutiny. I keep my eyes on his, and it’s the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do, even as theman behind me adjusts his grip on the gun, pressing it harder into my spine.
Abruptly, Ryker asks, “What’s your name?”
“Samiran.”
It just fucking pops into my head and before I can even think about the madness, I’ve already said it. My gaze shoots to Tanisira just in time to see a truly bewildered look surge across her face, her hands twitching against her chest. I gulp.
Ryker turns to take in her stance, her renewed disinterest, before coming back to me. “You don’t know her?” he asks me.
I shake my head, squinting at Tanisira. “Honestly, just thought I was gonna get some necking in. I’m really,reallysorry for interrupting your... whatever this is.”
And, shit, I think we’ve managed to pull it off because he sighs and nods sharply, before pushing away from the desk. He motions to his goon, and the gun disappears. Slumping in the chair, I feel my damp neck and hairline, my heartbeat pounding furiously.
“Take her downstairs. Watch her leave.”
I jolt. What about Tan—
Tanisira steps forward, shoving her hands into her pockets. “Now that you’ve wasted everyone’s time, can we wrap this up?” Fuck, how is she able to look that nonchalant? Sound that bored?
The goon starts herding me towards the doorway.
Flesh. Trafficker. Greed.
But Ryker isn’t in the mood to cooperate. He approaches Tanisira until they’re toe to toe, getting right in her face. I watch the frisson of disgust that zips through her. Is it his proximity? Or is it this simmering loathing between them from some past I don’t know about?
“Go. To. Hell,” he says softly.
I’m only halfway out the door, neck craned, when it happens. Tanisira’s eyes shift from his and find mine. There’s a message there that I can’t read; I’m too shaky, tooeverything. But I see her arm whip up, hear a sharp buzz, the soft exhale of a surprised breath. Ryker tenses in front of her, then jerks.
She steps away.
He falls to his knees, moans, and hits the ground.
A Pulse Guard is nestled in the palm of her hand: a sophisticated and highly illegal taser co-opted by the military andnotapproved for civilian use. Both my parents used to carry one, though I was never allowed to touch it.
