Disruption (23 page)

‘I love you. Madly, crazy beyond compare. I feel like I can’t breathe without you, never want to lose you, would run with you, kill for you, die for you,
love
you.’ He grinned sheepishly. ‘There. Now I’ve said it.’

His gorgeous eyes, so sure, bored into mine and I knew what he’d said was true. I felt it too. I’d do anything for him. Whatever it took. ‘This isn’t healthy,’ I mumbled finally.

His smile grew and my heart clenched. ‘The best things never are. The best things always hover right on the edge of life and death.’

He was right, but why did it seem he was my life and I would only be his death? I wanted to kiss him. His lips were right there and I could just reach up and do it. Kiss him and forget. But how could I when I knew what I’d done to him?

I swallowed, guilt eating me up. ‘I wish things could’ve been different, Quin. I wish we could’ve been normal, had a normal chance. I wish I hadn’t … I’ve done … so many things in the name of my father. I can’t take them back and if you knew,’ a tear slipped down my cheek, ‘you wouldn’t give me those words.’

He pulled me closer, almost rough. ‘You just don’t get it. I didn’t give you those words. You
ripped
them from my heart and soul and now they’re yours. Forever.’

Oh. My. God. He meant it. And I wanted to say something back. Something equally amazing. Equally as heartfelt, but I couldn’t speak over the thudding of my heart.

Quentin had been such a believer in the system, but his feelings for me had made him question those beliefs. All the while, I’d rejected the system. Yet here I was, completely and utterly in love with him.

I didn’t know what to say and part of me was worried that I might burst into tears, so instead I did what I really wanted to. I kissed him.

‘I
still don’t understand why we can’t take my car,’ Quentin complained for the hundredth time. He’d just gotten off the phone with his mother, explaining that he had stayed at Sebastian’s last night and would be there again this evening. Her responsibilities lecture had been loud enough for me to hear, and yet, surprisingly, she had also accepted his explanation without obvious suspicion. I couldn’t help feeling the familiar twinge of guilt. Eliza was Garrett Mercer’s wife. I couldn’t underestimate her, but there was something about her that seemed genuine.

Hoping to avoid my own responsibility lecture, I had ignored the four missed calls from Samuel. At least it seemed he’d been covering for me with Mom.

I looked to the heavens. ‘For the last time, your car has a tracking device on it and we can’t risk anyone trying to find you. It’s obvious. Plus we need to stay off the main roads.’ We needed to stay off roads altogether, but I didn’t want to tell him that just yet. It would only lead to more questions. ‘We can park it at our first stop.’

‘First stop?’

‘Trust me.’

He took a deep breath and let it out through tight lips. ‘I trust you, Maggie. I’m just …’

‘I know,’ I said. Because I did.

Quentin followed my instructions, taking main streets all the way to the private parking garage. It was one of those ones where you enter a code for your car and a series of lift mechanisms bring it down to you.

We parked Quentin’s car and entered it into the garage for an overnight stay. It had worked out well that his brother was out of town. Sebastian’s apartment – and comfiest of comfy beds – wasn’t far away, so it wouldn’t seem out of place for Quentin’s car to end up there. It was important that nothing we did raised any suspicion.

Silently, we watched as his car was lifted into one of the bays and then I entered the code Travis had given me. The mechanisms kicked into gear and we waited as a number of lifts were raised and rotated until finally our untraceable vehicle was delivered.

‘I’m driving,’ Quentin said. He didn’t smile. He didn’t leave room for discussion. He just stared at the bike.

‘I’m driving,’ I replied.

He shook his head. ‘I don’t think you understand.
I’m
driving.’

‘No. You’re not.’

His jaw clenched and I knew I was seeing the Quentin Mercer of pre-neg days. The one who was used to getting whatever he wanted.

‘I’m the best person to ride that bike. I’ve ridden one of these before. They’re all power. You need to know how to handle it.’

‘Exactly my point,’ I said, stepping towards the bike and up-linking my M-Band to the starter ignition.

Quentin chuckled behind me. ‘I don’t think you know what you’re getting yourself into here. Maggie,
that’s
the new Ducati Hypermotard. It’s a lot of bike to handle.’ He could barely contain his awe.

‘You’re not stealing my ride, Quin.’ I grinned and hooked my leg over the bike, grabbing one helmet and handing the other to him. ‘Get on. I’m sure you’ll look hot on the back of my bike,’ I said with a wink, starting the engine.

He blinked at first, but when he made the connection he just shook his head with a wry smile and jumped on. He moved in close and wrapped his arms around my waist before leaning into me and murmuring, ‘I suppose there are advantages.’

I put on my helmet before he saw my blush. I’d be lying if I didn’t admit I saw the advantages too.

We cruised out of the parking garage and travelled through side streets towards the outskirts of the city. I took my time, getting a feel for the bike. Truth was, I hadn’t ridden this particular model before – my experience had been with the less valuable variety – but I’d ridden a lot of bikes so it didn’t take me long to get a handle on it. I’d been riding off-roaders since I was twelve. Samuel used to be really into it and there wasn’t a whole heap else to do out in the country. Sam’s friends used to head out every afternoon and take the trails. He had let me tag along every now and then. When he didn’t, I made a point of sneaking out on his spare bike and practising, hoping if I became good enough to keep up he’d let me go out more often.

By the time I was fourteen, I had most of the boys beat. I thought it would make them want me around more.

Samuel stopped inviting me altogether.

But I kept riding. I even started working at the local mechanic’s, running errands and cleaning the workshop just so I could borrow the crappy dirt bike they kept out the back.

Riding out of town, the wind in my face and Quentin holding tight … the temptation to turn in a new direction, somewhere far away, was strong. But there was no turning back now. Not when I was so close to Dad.

I pulled up at the last set of traffic lights before we hit open road, linked my phone to the helmet speakers, and called Gus.

‘Sleep well?’ he answered.

‘You know I’m going to hurt you next time I see you.’

‘Exactly why I plan on never seeing you again. I’m packing my bags as we speak,’ he said merrily.

‘I’m prepared to patiently hunt you down. It will make my payback that much more satisfying.’

He laughed on the other end. I’m not entirely sure when my threats became empty, or when they started to bring a smile to Gus’s face. But it seemed I’d lost my edge.

‘I’m hitting open road,’ I said, cutting off his laughter.

‘All right, all right. Give me one second and I’ll check the satellite.’

While Gus did his thing, I reached into the front compartment and grabbed my bottle of water, offering it to Quentin.

‘Thanks,’ he said, after taking a few gulps. ‘You ride pretty well.’

I took the bottle back. Gus was in my ear, giving me the all clear. I lifted my visor and had a drink, knowing we wouldn’t get another chance for a while. Before I put down my visor, because I couldn’t help myself, I turned to Quentin and gave him a sly smile. ‘I’d hold on.’

The Ducati had a lot of power. I’d chosen it partly for that reason and mostly because it was a hybrid off-roader that didn’t draw too much attention on city streets. It was a sexy bike, sure. But it was a serious bike too. And as we skidded off the smooth road onto a barely visible dirt track, I couldn’t hold back the smile as the adrenalin kicked in. It may also have had something to do with Quentin, who was doing just as instructed.

My smile kicked up a notch when he yelled: ‘Next time we take two bikes and make it a race!’

I laughed, hearing him through the helmet speakers. ‘Only if you’re willing to bet big!’ I yelled back.

His arm tightened around my waist. ‘For you, there is nothing I wouldn’t bet.’ He didn’t yell it quite so loudly, but I heard. Lost for a reply, I revved the accelerator and moved us beneath the cover of trees, weaving in and out, avoiding ditches and the large rocks, hoping nothing too surprising crossed our path. About half an hour later I pulled to a stop.

Before I’d even kicked down the stand, Quentin jumped off the bike.

‘Jesus, Maggie! That tree came damn close.’

I scoffed. ‘Barely.’

He raised his eyebrows and leaned forwards, removing part of a stick from where it was wedged in my jacket. ‘Pretty close to me.’

I shrugged. ‘Satellites move over this area a lot. We didn’t have time to dodge everything.’

‘Well, for future reference, it’s good to prioritise giant trees.’

‘Thanks for the tip,’ I replied dryly. I pulled our baseball caps out of my bag and handed him his. ‘Put this on under your helmet.’

‘Why now?’

‘Because,’ I pointed to the building ahead of us, ‘we’re going in there and when we take off our helmets, we are going to be seen on cameras. We need to keep our heads down and covered.’

‘You do realise
that
is the Dulles International Airport. One of the most highly patrolled airports in the world?’

‘It is, and yes I do.’ It was no surprise given that Air Force One often landed there, but there was no better way to get where we needed to go.

He put on his cap and slid his helmet back in place before hopping back on the bike behind me. ‘You’re kind of scary, you know that right?’

I nodded solemnly. ‘I do.’

We made our way to the arrival level in the main terminal, heads down and shielded from the cameras. I spotted the baggage carousels and paused at a kiosk, asking for a coffee, preferably not scalding. When they delivered it, I paid via my M-Band, discarded the coffee lid, and kept walking.

‘Are you planning on explaining this part to me?’ Quentin whispered.

‘It’s better if I don’t. Just be ready to do as I say.’

‘We are really going to have to work on your sharing policy, Maggie.’

‘Understood. I’m not used to having someone with me,’ I admitted. Then, before he could respond, I glanced pointedly ahead. ‘See that security guard at twelve o’clock?’

‘The one with the ginormous machine gun? Yeah, I see him.’

I smirked. ‘Great. Well, we are about to walk past him. Whatever you do, don’t let him see your face. Got it?’

I heard him groan before he answered. ‘Got it.’

Forcing myself to keep a steady pace, I headed towards the last carousel, which would take us directly past the heavily armed guard. Just as we walked by, I faked a trip and fell into him. He caught me with one arm, not letting go of his weapon, even as my coffee spilled onto the front of his uniform.

‘Oh, I’m
so
sorry,’ I gushed, keeping my head down as I grabbed his arm. ‘Thank you so much,’ I added as I slipped my hand into his in thanks, slipping him the money zip.

The guard paused, recognising the transaction. He’d been expecting me, but I was a relatively young girl and that was always a surprise.

His hand calmly closed around the money zip. Yeah, he’d done this before. It wasn’t a shock – airport security only made a percentage of their income from their actual salaries.

‘You’re welcome,’ he said. He helped me regain my balance, giving the cameras a good show as he assessed his coffee-damaged uniform.

Quentin, I noticed, had wisely distanced himself from us. The last thing the security guard needed was for the cameras to record a Mercer in the vicinity.

The guard pulled out his radio and looked towards the cameras as he spoke. ‘You see that?’

I could hear the person on the other end laugh. ‘Highlight of my day! Is it bad?’

‘Yeah, I’m drenched. I have another uniform in my locker. You’d better send someone to cover for me.’

‘Sure. You go and Russ will head over there.’

‘All right, out,’ the guard said, putting the radio away.

‘Again, I’m so sorry,’ I said sweetly.

‘Forget about it. I’ve got another uniform out back and I’m only two minutes from the back rooms.’

That was the first piece of intel I needed.

‘Well, at least someone can come to relieve you.’

‘Yeah. I’ll head off now and he’ll be here in a minute,’ he said, glancing down as he crossed his arms, leaving four fingers out straight.

And that was the second piece of intel.

I started counting. ‘Great news. Sorry again.’ I gave him a wave and walked towards the last carousel. I looked around. The area was deserted, none of the nearby carousels were currently in use. It was precisely why we’d chosen this time of day.

Quentin fell into step beside me. ‘Making friends?’

‘Indeed,’ I responded, still keeping count.

We made it to the carousel and I gave the guard an extra thirty seconds, just in case. He’d given us a full two-minute window anyway, so I had the time. When I was certain that our corrupt guard had made it to the back control room to shut down the cameras – a job that even Gus couldn’t get done from outside the airport – I elbowed Quentin. ‘Move fast and stay with me.’

I heard him gasp when I leaped onto the carousel’s conveyor belt and straight into the luggage holds, but then he leaped after me.

Ducking low, we ran along the stationary conveyor belt and into the back area. I spied the doorway immediately and slipped the decoder card into the wall.

‘I wouldn’t have even seen it,’ Quentin said, watching on in fascination.

‘They hide the doors well. I’ve missed a few here and there,’ I responded, waiting for the decoder to give me the green light. When I heard the click, I blew out a breath and pushed the door inwards. I leaped in.

Quentin closed the door behind him and looked around, shocked to see the room we’d just entered.

‘What is this?’ he asked, looking around the large concrete box with low halogen lighting and not much else, apart from the stacked crates along one of the side walls.

I kept moving across the room towards another door, anxious at being so exposed. As far as we knew, M-Corp made a point of not having these areas digitally monitored, but that didn’t mean I wanted to risk being out in the open for long. The sooner we were within the cover of the transit tunnels, the better.

‘This is how M-Corp bring in synthetic chems and ship out lust-enhancers,’ I explained.

We reached the next door, which surprisingly didn’t have a lock. I was relieved to see it led into the narrow network of passageways that would lead us to the transit tunnel.

‘You must be confused,’ Quentin said, following me with less enthusiasm.

‘Door,’ I instructed.

Quentin, still not overly accustomed to taking orders, paused to narrow his eyes before turning back and carefully closing the door behind him.

I smiled and walked on.

‘M-Corp don’t have anything to do with lust-enhancers, Maggie,’ he said, catching up to me. ‘They’re black-market products in complete opposition to what we do.’

I cringed at his use of the word ‘we’. Clearly he still saw himself as part of M-Corp. ‘Well,
you
should know then that while M-Corp actively criticise the use of lust-enhancers, they are also the main manufacturer of black-market products. It is
your
way of controlling both economies and providing rules for society to break while still profiting and controlling the flow.’

He grimaced at my pointed response. ‘Why would they do that?’

‘Because if they simply made lust-enhancers another accessory then people wouldn’t want them so much and they wouldn’t be able to charge so much money for them. They wouldn’t be so desirable and people would look for something else, opening up other options for black-market dealings. This way, they know they have the best illicit product, but they control it.’