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Lila swiped the screen of a palm and began a fresh download, eyes washing over the people in the shop. They milled around the crush of cars and trucks, the dock door shut fast with a Closed for Lunch sign hung askew on the front door. Most of them wore servant’s clothes, their boots cracked and gritty and sun-pale. They’d buttoned up their thin fall coats against the chill and wore fraying, hand-knitted scarves loosely around their necks. Some hid scars from their slave chips. A few others hid the much deeper scar from cutting them out early.
No one hid the telltale bulges of tranq guns and knives.
Tristan maneuvered through the crush, depositing another half-dozen palms in front of Lila and Toxic. The young hacker sighed dramatically as she snatched up a new device, the effect somewhat spoiled when a cable wrapped around the tail of her bright yellow scarf.
“This is the last batch,” he assured them.
Toxic untangled her scarf, her face beautiful even when it was crinkled. “I can’t believe you guys won’t even tell me what the game does. I found it.”
“The fewer that know the better. It’s better for us all that way.”
Lila yanked a cord from a finished palm. “Toxic says this isn’t everyone in your group.”
“Not even close. Most of my people are at work on the compounds and couldn’t get away. Even yours. Scary, isn’t it?”
Lila raised a brow, wondering what he knew about the Randolphs. “Servants or slaves?”
“Servants, mostly. Slaves can’t leave their compounds or own palms, and their tracking chips make things too complicated.” He snatched up a few finished palms. “You’re riding with me, by the way.”
Lila shook her head. That wasn’t why she came. “I can ride with Dixon.”
“I need to update you about Natalie and her businesses.”
The brothels? Gods, what did he do? “So send me a message.”
“Lila, grow up. You’re riding with me.” He then picked up a few more palms and hurried away.
Toxic paused in her work and watched him go. “So you and Tristan…” She eyed Lila’s hood. “I knew it would happen eventually. Everyone did.”
“Knew what?”
“Grunting and groaning and orgasms, oh my! Have you guys done it on this table?”
“Stop.”
“Yeah, it’s not at the right height. The stool would work better. Or did you have a go on his Amazon?” She laughed a little too loudly. “Have you done it on his bike?”
“Shut up, Toxic.”
“Not on your life. The way you two always stare at each other…”
Lila peeked at Tristan.
He peered at her from the front of the shop.
Both quickly glanced away.
Toxic snickered. “Tell me something, do you keep the hood on when you two are—”
“I have a gun.”
“You won’t shoot me. I’m important to this operation.”
“There’s always after.”
Toxic’s mirth deflated all at once. She’d been shot by a tranq recently, and the misery still loomed fresh upon her mind. “Fine. You finish. I’ll go check on communications.”
Lila smirked as the back door whacked closed. She cast her eyes to Tristan once more. A dozen of his captains, for lack of a better term, surrounded him in a semicircle, divvying up a map of the city. From time to time, they also looked back at Lila, peering at her hood suspiciously. She couldn’t blame them; she’d never met most of them, except for Fry and Frank and Dice.
