Chapter Six

If someone had told Drag his ex-lover who had tried to kill him twelve years ago would be standing beside him in the town they grew up in backing his actions and words, he’d have laughed in their face. Such things were the stuff of dreams.

Yet here Bridget was beside him, announcing her backing. He momentarily looked up from his crouched spot, where her bright auburn hair glimmered in the sunlight. He’d opted to go without sun goggles, so his view was a little shadowed as he kept his gaze away from the sun shining in the sky above.

“Does this mean no war?” a member of the crowd shouted.

“Correct. We are no longer at war. I will listen to what Drag offers and work out details with him.” She leaned down and tugged on his human arm, forcing him to come to his feet. “We leave you now. Take care of Ironside and we will celebrate his passing this evening with a bonfire send-off.”

Then she moved, marching out of the pit and back up the steps. Drag took one last glance at Ironside. The old man had begged for him to end it, leaving Drag confused, because besides asking Drag to take his life, Ironside had also asked that Drag take care of Bridget.

The same Bridget that was already halfway to her front door. Drag moved to catch up and gave Jack a shrug. Jack motioned toward the house, a silent question of whether he should follow. Drag shook his head. In case things went sour, he’d need a quick getaway.

He also didn’t miss the Inccukai who was at Ironside’s body and inspecting the damage Drag had inflicted. Hopefully, the mummy gets the point.

Drag wasn’t sure if he could fight them, but he didn’t mind being seen as a threat. Most people were unaware of how much strength he and his cybernetic friends possessed. Today he’d displayed a fraction of it, though a thread of guilt still ran through his system for ending Ironside. He’d known the old lieutenant since he was a kid. The man had always served beside Travis Macintosh as his second until the leader’s death.

Bridget was already inside the house and Drag stopped himself short, recalling the last time he’d walked through the door. It had been the beginning of the end of everything between them.

Will this be the start of something new?

He couldn’t let those fantasies resurface. This place represented childhood dreams of youth, lost twelve years ago. Sweeping back the thick curtain that served as a door, he entered. The lighting inside was horribly dim. It took a couple seconds for his eyes to adjust, then he caught sight of Bridget on the far side of the room in the kitchen area. She already had a bottle of recycle and a kit of supplies on the table.

“Take a seat,” she said before crossing the room to get a bowl.

He made it to the table and hesitated over the chair she’d pulled out. “What’s all this for?”

She sighed, then kicked his left boot before clamping a hand on his left shoulder to force him down. He went with the motion and plopped into the chair, the wood creaking and screeching under his weight and the pressure of the small slide against the wood-grain floor.

“You’re bleeding above your eye and there’s a cut on your arm.”

He opened his mouth to retort that she didn’t need to worry. Cybernetics would have him healed within an hour. But instead, he shut up and let her start to work on him. Her hands were callused, not smooth like he remembered, and those mouth-bitten nails the opposite of her preferences. Her skin tan and mottled with freckles, scars, on the backs near her wrists. She’d even broken one finger, judging by the weird set to it.

What the hell has she been doing?

She doused a clean cloth with some liquid and he couldn’t help the tiny hiss from the sting when she touched the solution to the cut above his eye. She repeated the steps on his arm.

“You weren’t making it look good out there. At all,” she said.

“I’m sitting here bleeding and you’re complaining about my performance. I won. That’s all that matters.”

“You killed him,” she mumbled as she grabbed a small bandage and the tape, ripping a piece off the roll with her teeth. Tears were gathering at the corner of her eyes and regardless of the rage that had briefly overtaken him in the bonfire pit, remorse clamped down hard on his chest now.

“Hey, I didn’t have a choice…besides, you sent him to the mines.”

The tape roll dropped in the bowl with a clink. She sniffled a couple times, avoiding his gaze. “I know…but it doesn’t mean this hurts less.”

“If it helps at all, I’m sorry.” He’d always be upset to put any type of distress on her features. Realizing that in this moment sucked so damn much. He tried to grasp at the anger all over again, but the fury was weak in the face of her tear-stained cheeks.

After applying the bandage, she gave his arm a slap. The sting was so minor he didn’t react at all. No, he was too busy looking at her face.

Those eyebrows, the freckles, the green of her irises trained on his arms and the way she struggled to hold a small grin on those lips… Lips he wanted to know if they still kissed the same. Stupid for sure, but the desire was there and if it mean she’d stop being sad…

She started to pull back and he reached for her, easily wrapping his thick hand around her thin forearm. Time had stolen from her, removed some of the meat to her bones and erased the pampered princess parts he’d once found himself attracted to. Their time apart had hardened her.

“What?” she asked, her gaze at last resting on his.

“Why are you taking the time to clean me up?”

She gave a half shrug, unable to move her right side as easily with him holding onto her. “Seemed like the right thing to do.”

“You going to hold a grudge because I killed Ironside?” The question paired with him pulling her closer to him.

Real smooth, Drag… Talk about a dead guy.

“No, he asked you to, right?”

“Protect her, keep her safe.”

Those were the words Ironside left with him, his last ones before Drag got a front row seat to the life fading from his eyes. Sure, he felt bad and at the same time satisfied with delivering well-earned payback since the old man had taken his arm twelve years prior.

“He did. Still, you’re upset and I don’t want all this work to go to waste.”

The visual struggle taking place in front of him was a marvel to see. Bridget sat up straight, eyes flashing with momentary frustration, followed by the exact opposite. He wasn’t sure what had prompted her reaction, but as fast as she aimed for attack, all the bravado disappeared. She slouched in the chair and looked up to the ceiling.

“Would it still make sense if I said I’m glad you weren’t hurt again?”

Fuck. The words, almost a whisper from her lips, sliced through him worse than any damage he’d sustained in the last decade because of how badly he wanted her to be telling the truth.

It took a small yank and she was standing between his legs, her hands resting on his shoulders. Looking down at him, she licked her lips. That was it—he was fucking done. Hadn’t Snapper warned him about this? For thirty seconds, he wouldn’t fucking care.

Let me forget.

He reached up, cupping the back of her head and pulling her face toward his. “Now’s the time to slap me and pull back.”

“Can I touch you? Because I want to kiss bad enough to break the rules,” she growled in return.

He found himself nodding without hesitation, so she moved in. For the first time in twelve years, a strange sense of right washed over him as her lips met his.

 

A girl should know how to play hard to get, but in this situation Bridget didn’t. She hadn’t been lying when she said her heart mourned for Ironside but had been thankful Drag was alive.

Now she was kissing him in her kitchen, and it didn’t take much to move from a simple embrace to threading her fingers through his hair. Then he touched a tongue to her lips and she opened, not even attempting to hold herself back. She’d been without this for so long and Drag… No one’s ever kissed me like Dakota Michelson.

He was teasing her into a frenzy, pulling her tightly against him and plundering her mouth like a miner attacking a good vein of ore. This rough part of him, the way he took over and used her, had her damp between her legs and, like a sex-starved moron, contemplating how far could she let this go. How much did she dare?

Beyond tangling tongues and the nipping bites he gave to her lips, he traced out the inside of her mouth as if trying to map her and lay possessive claim in one fell swoop. This was what she’d wished for her in her dreams and those dark nights alone.

When he let her go, she was breathing heavy and wishing there wasn’t a crowd still outside awaiting news of their alliance.

“I wish you’d just listened to me back then. This wouldn’t have ended.” She was immediately stumbling backward as Drag shoved himself out of the chair to a full standing position. Regret coiled in her chest. The words were far too candid and by the intensity of Drag’s frown, not the best ones.

“You tried to kill my best friend… Listening to you would have been a horrible idea.”

I had reasons.

“I thought I was your best friend. Remember the promise you made to me.”

Drag shook his head. “No, you broke all of those when you became a killer. You took our future into your hands and snapped it in two.”

“He would have been named leader. I couldn’t let that happen.” No, not when it would mean losing the hold over Cheatham. Though after twelve years she stood atop the same precipice after all. “Forget it. Let’s not dwell on the past anymore. We’re here to talk the future.”

He grabbed the chair, turned it around so the back faced her then sat again. “To be clear, my head was a little confused after the fight. Adrenaline…that’s what inspired the kiss. We’re not doing that again, or anything else for that matter.”

She sat down and crossed her legs, willing her desire to disappear completely. “Of course, like I said. We’re focusing on the alliance.”

 

Alliance, right. Focus.

Drag was anything but clear headed. He was aroused and angry at Bridget for acting as if their downfall had resided in his inability to do as she’d asked, when their split was due to her being a murderous, power-hungry person. He’d thought her beyond despot behavior, but she’d proven otherwise.

Add in Ironside’s comment and he was confused. The man had been treated abominably by Bridget after beating him and sending him from Macintosh. Yet the old man still believed that somehow Bridget needed to be kept safe.

“Shall we begin?” she asked, busying herself by packing up the supplies on the table and putting them back in the box.

“I delivered my side of the bargain—we’re no longer at war. Now it’s time to dig into your plan. How are we keeping that Inccukai out of your business as well?” He stretched his arms out before tearing off the bandage she had put over his eye.

She growled, then gasped softly. “Where the hell did your injury go?”

“One of the perks of being a cyborg is faster healing abilities.”

“You could have mentioned that before wasting my time,” she murmured, her words barely audible over the squeak of the metal-hinged door and clasping lock on the repair kit.

He grinned. “When would I ever turn down a woman who wanted to spend time fawning over me?”

“Typical…anyway. The next step is recon. We’re going to have to infiltrate the racing dome. With the impending championship, Cheatham is going to be here and how we prove to the others of what he’s capable of is we get him caught on record talking about his plans. That’s not even exploring who on the commission he has in his pocket.”

The words hit Drag and he recoiled. “Wait? You’re saying someone on the commission is taking payments from Cheatham?”

“You didn’t think he did all of this by himself, did you?” Bridget let out a little chuckle, grating against Drag’s already exposed nerves.

“I never believed they were corrupted.”

She shook her head. “Well, pity on you. There is always someone willing to sacrifice the benefits of others for a chance at more ways to line their own pockets and I’m seeing it more and more.”

“You cashed in on some of that yourself, right?”

The frown on her face mirrored the frustration brewing within him. She acted as if she abhorred the behavior, but she’d killed her own father to be placed in leadership. Would have killed Snapper too, if Drag hadn’t stopped her, then made how many deals… Hypocrisy.

“I secured my future. You just couldn’t grasp that I was fighting for what we wanted.”

Bullshit. “We’re not talking about the past. I’m saying now. Are you taking payoffs to make deals and do shit you’re not supposed to? Or are things like blowing up my racer and driver or sending a spy into my gang all you?” He couldn’t help but ask the questions he’d wanted to for months.

“Will those answers make it better?” Snapper had shared those words with him when he’d suggested this morning that maybe this alliance would get them an explanation for Bridget’s violence against them.

I need to hear them.

“Why does that matter?”

“It’s going to ensure I don’t walk away from this alliance.”

She sighed. “You’re not going to trust me regardless, but fine. I was challenged by Cheatham to ensure we won. I bribed one person to get into your pit area and plant that bomb. When we didn’t succeed… Well, he’s going to remove me from leadership. I said this already.”

Were the ideas yours? He wanted to ask, but Snapper was right. Her answers wouldn’t make him feel any better or improve things. They would serve as a reminder of why a future between them was never possible.

“Fine. How sure are you that this infiltration and setting up surveillance equipment is going to get us any traction? People who do bad things aren’t considered stupid enough to get caught. They won’t just talk about dirty dealings in the middle of a room.”

“You’d be surprised, Drag. These idiots are starting to feel comfortable in their positions and believe they are invincible. They don’t think anyone capable of attempting such a thing. I’ve often heard those on the commission and even the sponsors enjoy it when there is infighting within gangs in the territories. Hell, some have been trying to stoke the fires of the unaffiliated groups to cause more anarchy, if anything. The chaos allows them to get away with decisions and choices they would never try if people were bothering to pay attention.”

Drag couldn’t fault her knowledge. As a leader struggling with a gang on the brink of starvation and failure, he’d been more focused on the people he answered to than attending commission meetings or paying attention to the bullshit politics running Mars as a whole.

“Then they need to be removed.”

She shrugged. “Maybe. I’m not sure how deep the corruption goes. I have some ideas, but I want proof to share with the other leaders. That’s the only way we get anywhere in this system. We need unity across Mars, across all the gangs. To show the commissions they represent us, are elected by us. And if the Smiths pull off parliament representation one day, we need a better voice.”

“Didn’t know you were a fan of politics?” He couldn’t help but chide her, because these words were reminiscent of the woman he’d loved twelve years prior. A person he’d wanted to help change their world, but who had instead turned into a monster. The very creatures she wanted to fight against.

“My father always said it came with the territory. The problem was he didn’t believe women were smart enough to be involved in the workings. I may never have a chance to prove him wrong, but I won’t be forced into a corner again.”

Those words rang out to him as odd. The Bridget he’d always known made her own choices, which was why her father’s murder and the near killing of Snapper were so shocking. He thought he knew the real her, but those events had him questioning his very sanity.

“All right, how do we get in?”

“The prelim walk-through, in one week. We’ll need your tech-savvy mechanic’s help. The female with the fancy skills.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Do you have another spy in my gang?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” She chuckled. “No, Drag. But it doesn’t take a genius to discover she’s become the brains of your operation. She was the mind behind splitting the sludge from the NiteOx and combusting it outside the chamber. There’s a half a dozen mechanics wishing they’d thought of the same thing. I’m sure she’s adept at cameras, sensors and spy shit.”

Gina, in truth an AI and not human, was capable of far more. But Drag would never admit as much out loud. Gina had trusted him, as she done the same for a few in Full Throttle, with the knowledge of her true nature. He’d die to protect her because she’d offered his gang so much and because his best friend loved the woman more than he cared for his own life.

“She may have some skill in that area.”

“She’d need to, especially since she helped you steal from half a dozen gangs. Stop looking at me like that. I’m not stupid, Drag, no matter what you may think of me. I pay attention to things, including the tiny details that most people would overlook.”

He needed to stop narrowing his scope to his gang as a whole, if her observations told him anything. First thing when he got back, Gina would need to run a security analysis of Frog Lick. No more leaving things to chance. Two hours in this woman’s company and he was becoming paranoid.

“Maybe I should be concerned that you’re stalking me.” He tried to shake off his concern with a joke and a smile.

“Drag, if I was hunting you, you’d know. I’m not a fan of hiding in the dark.”