Over Stimulated Read online

The nice thing about conducting so much business online was she could work and gossip at the same time.

  As much as anyone can, she replied. Was there something she should know?

  I thought you’d know by now. The patterns are there. Distracted much?

  She raised an eyebrow at her screen. A bit.

  Omaha. The single word glared at her.

  The conversation from yesterday rushed in. Snippets of data reassembled themselves in her thoughts. The news said Omaha had closed its borders, but the people there didn’t agree. Something else snapped into place. More inconsistencies. She’d seen them for weeks. National news saying one city was quarantined, or another had gone dark, while the occasional detractor said otherwise.

  She didn’t know what she was supposed to get out of it, though. The news couldn’t fake something as big as quarantines of entire towns. And why would they?

  P-72. Every one of those locations had that in common. She typed, What am I missing?

  What if it weren’t real?

  The circuits in her brain shorted, and she stared at the screen until the words blurred together. If it weren’t real... It would be one less thing to worry about. One less precaution to take.

  Too bad it wasn’t that simple. They have clinics. I’ve seen footage of infected people. Hell, I’ve met someone who contracted it.

  Are you sure?

  Of course she was. So why wouldn’t her brain let go of the stupid question? What have you heard? she asked.

  Later. Sorry.

  Shit. His connection closed, but it didn’t shut off her rambling questions. Of course she’d cling to the idea of P-72 not being real. It meant hope. She and Taylor didn’t have a lot of that in their lives. Hope didn’t equal reality, though.

  Why would someone go to the kind of effort it would take to spread a rumor so far and wide, to make a nonexistent disease into a real thing?

  And how did the company she was looking into have a cure for something that didn’t exist? Then again, she was supposed to be investigating bribes...

  She couldn’t allow herself to fall into wishful thinking. It was a conspiracy theory, like so many before it. Making sure she finished the job and that they were safe was far more important than dwelling on what if’s that never would be.

  Besides, her spiders had returned with more information. Triumph and dread curdled together in her gut. Whoever she talked to yesterday was definitely local. It was difficult to pin down his location, because he hopped several local signals throughout the exchange, but it was within a few miles, judging by the locations of the different routers.

  Her messenger chimed again. Cypher must have found a way to talk after all. She clenched her jaw when she saw this was Cypher6668—not the same person she was just talking to, but someone wanting to spoof his name.

  Truce? the message read.

  Not likely. She didn’t have to ask who it was. Her pulse jack-rabbited into overdrive, screaming at her to disconnect.

  Wait. I swear on everything holy, I won’t trace you if you won’t trace me, he typed.

  There was no need trace him during this conversation. But he’d located her rapidly three times in a row. And she’d sworn she would shut him down, so she and Taylor had one less thing to look over their shoulder for. It’s a deal, she lied.

  Are we done playing games, then? he asked. You’ll tell me what you were doing on that site, and I’ll do the same?

  Still direct. Still unnerving. I want to be a pharmacy technician when I grow up. I was trying to figure out what’s new and experimental that will get my friends high. Her flippant response didn’t keep her hands from shaking. Hiding from him wasn’t working. She needed to buy herself some time, to think through how he kept finding her.

  I don’t think your friend would have a full appreciation for the newest psychotropics.

  Friend, singular? It was a typo, right? He was grasping at straws. You’d be surprised.

  I rarely am.

  In the background, a crash shattered through the noise of the coffee shop. She jumped at the sudden loud noise. She dragged in a few calming breaths when she realized one of the employees clearing mugs off tables had dropped the bucket of dishes on an unfortunate patron who was yelling so loudly she heard him above the din.

  “You stupid, clumsy Normal.” She couldn’t see his face. Why did he sound familiar? “Watch where the fuck you’re going.”

  The waitress’s muttered apology didn’t carry as far as the man’s shouts. Max felt bad for her, but it sounded like others were stepping in on the girl’s behalf, berating the loud asshole for taking his frustrations out on her.

  Max returned her attention to the screen. Large blocks of the same words the yelling man was saying, populated her handheld.

  Her gut protested the extra shot of espresso. Voice to text. He’d been speaking the words and letting the system translate them, not typing. She scanned the room more intently, and located the source of the chaos in an instant.

  It was him. The doctor from the shelter.

  Her head threatened to wobble away, as if the air had been sucked away from her. There were too many people, pressing in. Crowding. Talking. Their voices drilled into her skull. The back of her neck itched and prickled, the room suddenly too hot for comfort. At the same time, a chill raced over her, as if ice filled her veins.

  In the midst of spilled dishes, a Good Samaritan told the doctor to chill out and leave the girl alone—she hadn’t meant to spill several half-finished cups of coffee on him.

  Max was going to be ill.

  The other Null. And the arrogant asshole sat in the same room as her, not just chatting, but doing so out loud. She tried not to be obvious about glancing at him every couple seconds, while she extracted the battery from her handheld and pocketed both device and power source. The bedlam held his attention. Please don’t let him look over here.

  If she was lucky, it was coincidence he and she were in the same building. Did he have people closing in? Too many possibilities raced through her head. What was he doing here, thousands of miles from where she last saw him? If he knew where she and Taylor were, why didn’t he confront them directly again?

  She stood and wove through the tables, moving away from him. She didn’t dare look behind her, as she walked down the street at a fast clip. One block, and then two. Her heart hammered faster with every footstep, and it took the last traces of her focus, those not devoted to worrying why he was here, not to break into a run.

  She’d gone four blocks now. A bookstore with barely any customers and several rows of shelves caught her eye, and she used the people on the sidewalk as camouflage, when she ducked inside.

  She picked a row several feet from the window. It was hidden from the street but allowed her to watch outside. Seconds ticked away, accompanied by the ringing in her ears. She scanned every passing face. Whenever someone headed for the door, her stomach dropped into her shoes, while she figured out if their face looked familiar.

  If the doctor saw her duck in here, if anyone followed her on his order, they’d quickly figure out if there was a rear exit. She grabbed the first book off the nearest shelf and made her way to the register.

  The guy behind the counter was probably ten years younger than her. His mouth twisted into a smirk when he saw the book. She glanced at the cover, and a groan rose inside. How to please him. She resisted the urge to roll her eyes. There was no time to be embarrassed.

  Instead, she gave him a shy smile, bottom lip caught between her teeth. Taylor might be better at random small talk, but she understood the basics of flirting. “Can I ask you a huge favor?” She kept her voice was clear but husky.

  His eyes grew wide, and his expression shifted to a full-blown smile. “S-sure.”

  She twirled a strand of hair around her finger and picked up the book without another glance at it. “I’m supposed to meet a friend a couple blocks over, and I’m running late.” She nodded at the book. “We kind of have plans tonight, and I
’d hate to spoil the mood before we even get started.”

  He shifted his weight, and adjusted his jeans. “Uh... okay?”

  Poor boy. She could almost hear the fantasies her innuendo caused. Some girl was going to wrap him around her finger, if he didn’t learn to turn that off. “I don’t suppose there’s a back way out of here? Maybe something that will cut a few minutes off my time?” she asked.

  “Yeah, sure.” He nodded toward a door that said Employees Only over it. “On the other side, turn right. There’s an exit at the end of the hallway that leads to a space between buildings on the other side of the block.”

  She paid for the book. “Thank you. From both of us.” She winked, turned on her toe, and made the most rapid casual exit she could manage.

  Another day, she might have lingered on how funny the situation was, or been flattered at his attention. Today, ice and tension kept her thoughts drifting to the doctor.

  Two more blocks. Still no sign she was being followed. She ducked into a convenience store, grabbed the cheapest burner phone off the shelf, paid, and was outside again seconds later. It took more time to activate the device than she wanted, but she worked while she walked. Anything that kept her moving in random circles, and away from the threat, was good. She discarded the packaging, and then doubled back in the other direction.

  She had to call Taylor. They planned for this, and she was always grateful they’d never had to use it. It would have been nice if that trend continued. She couldn’t lead them to him. Whatever the doctor’s reasons were for reaching out to her, she had to make sure Taylor was as far away as possible, until they knew they were in the clear.

  She dialed his number, the scripted lines flying to the tip of her tongue before he answered.

  “Hello?” His cheer gnawed at her frayed senses.

  “Don’t.” She forced a bark into the word. She summoned the anger she needed to do this, almost gagging on the venom. “We’re done.”

  “Max? What?”

  God, she didn’t want to do this. Just thinking the words hurt, despite them being for show. Having to say them, to sound like she meant them, almost ripped her apart. “You heard me. Done. I never want to see you again.”

  “But what did I do?”

  He was playing his part the same as she was hers, but the hurt in his voice made her jaw ache. “You already know. We’re not having this conversation again. It’s over,” she said.

  “Max.” He repeated her name with more force than she thought possible.

  No, that wasn’t how the script went. Her footsteps faltered, and someone slammed into her. She stepped out of the flow of traffic and pressed her back to a wall for stability. She struggled to cling to the anger she was supposed to feel, and ad-libbed. “Don’t call me that. You have no right.”

  “Stop. Now.” His firm tone reached inside her and squeezed the jumble of hurt and panic clawing through her bones. “You don’t have to do this.”

  This was wrong. He was supposed to play the part of a wounded boyfriend. To be so stunned, he agreed to let her go. He’d find a way out of town, and they’d meet up later, when things were safe.

  He wasn’t supposed to call her out. Especially over the phone. “Yes. I do.” She emphasized each word. “There’s no other way.”

  “Listen to me.” There was no sorrow or doubt in his tone. She wanted to be furious about it, but his confidence warmed her. “There’s a bar about four blocks away. Meet me there in an hour.”

  She examined the sentence for double talk, but if it was there, she wasn’t sure what it was supposed to mean. Four blocks from what? And why was he giving her this information over the phone? It wasn’t right. She trusted Taylor; he was why she was still here, instead of on an examining table somewhere. The moment she stopped being able to take him at his word would be the moment her reality collapsed.

  “Max?” Insistence hung heavy in his voice.

  Four blocks from the hotel. It was the only shared point of reference they had in this city. At least he hadn’t given out everything on the public line. “I know the place,” she said.

  “Good. I’ll see you soon. I promise it’s okay.”

  She didn’t know how he could be so certain, but they were cautious, not paranoid.

  Too bad the rampant tension in her arms didn’t agree with her logic.

  Chapter Three

  The music echoed in Max’s skull and pounded a beat against her eardrums. Her seat at the bar gave her a view of the door, but it was easy to lose sight of it, with so many bodies in the place.

  If this was what it looked and sounded like to her, she couldn’t fathom the kinds of psychic static the crowd generated. It would be a fantastic spot to hide his thoughts and her lack of readable ones.

  Every few seconds, a dancing couple drifted closer, their laughter jarring her senses. She took another sip of her drink, wishing she could order something stronger than sparkling water and lime.

  When Taylor stepped through the entrance and no one followed, she relaxed a few degrees. He met her gaze and smiled. He pushed toward the outside edge of the dance floor and vanished in the shadows.

  She scanned faces, waiting for him to emerge again.

  A pair of arms encircled her waist, and the familiar scent of his body wash overrode the heavy stench of alcohol and body odor around her. The scruff of stubble on his chin scratched relief against her cheek.

  “You’d really leave me?” Taylor’s voice quieted her derailed thoughts.

  She wanted to say Never or I can’t imagine wanting to, but reality hovered too close to the surface. She settled for, “Only if I had to.”

  He dragged his nose up the side of her neck, stealing her breath and more of her panic, and leaving euphoria in its place. He was doing this for show, right? Public place, lots of grinding around them... She and Taylor had to fit in? Except she didn’t want him to stop. He rested his lips in the hollow below her ear. Every inch of her heated from the contact, but she wouldn’t have heard him any other way.

  “You don’t have to.” His words reassured her more than they should. He nudged the book sitting on the bar in front of her. “Did you have someone in mind for that?”

  “It was the first book I came across.” The excuse tumbled out before she could think of something more clever. Did she want something more clever?

  “Hmm... Too bad.” An undercurrent ran through his response. Something deep and throaty she hadn’t heard before. It sent ice and fire down her spine. He nuzzled her ear. “Should we find a quieter corner, where we can talk?”

  Talk in public? But it wasn’t as though their hotel room was more private. Especially if they—whoever they were—knew where she and Taylor were staying. She nodded and hopped from the stool.

  He tangled his fingers with hers and pulled her close. It kept her from being jostled, as he piloted them through the throngs of bodies. Dancers swung out of the way, to the left or right, as she and Taylor passed.

  Was he strong enough to push out that kind of influence without breaking a sweat? The idea spoke to the part of her wondering what he was hiding.

  He dropped onto a bench as far from the dance floor as possible, and pulled her into his lap. He settled his forehead against the side of her head, breath caressing her cheek. “Tell me what’s going on.” His voice was quiet, but with his mouth so close to her ear, she heard every word.

  She had to turn, to let her voice reach him. The moment she slid from his lap, he shifted to touch his knees to hers, and bent his head closer. To anyone watching, the two looked like any other couple who couldn’t keep their hands off each other.

  “You know I can’t,” she said.

  “You can.” The words carried the weight of his conviction. “We’re safe, from where I sit. Tell me why we’re not. If you can’t be specific, tell me what’s changed.”

  Guilt swam inside. She worried about what he kept from her, yet she was guilty of the same. True—beyond basic things like a company na
me, she never gave him the details of a job, but he always found out after, along with the rest of the world.

  And she kept secrets when they were running, but she shared once they were safe. She’d been in flight mode for so many hours, days, and weeks, that her forgot it was over.

  Except it wasn’t over. What she saw earlier meant they still had to run. She could tell him that. At this point, anyone following her had some idea she knew anyway. “The doctor from the shelter. He knows where I am.”

  Taylor tightened his hands on her hips. His, “You’re sure?” was ragged.

  She nodded and leaned her head on his shoulder. “It makes sense. You said he was like me, and that means a good chance he’s got an affinity for machines. No one else could have...” she trailed off. Saying someone executed her hacks better than her hurt. “It takes a lot of skill to track us digitally. It’s him.”

  He relaxed his grip. “Step back. Fill in the bigger details for me.”

  She owed him that much, and she needed help finding a solution. She spilled the events of the last few days. Not finding a single piece of information about the company she was looking into—though she did leave what the company did—and seeing the doctor in the cafe, and especially that she and Taylor were on a timer to earn the cash they needed to get out of this place.

  He pulled her closer. “You should have told me about the money.”

  The scolding in his words contradicted his actions, making her throat burn and her eyes sting. She pushed the reaction aside. This was all for show. “I should have said something sooner. I’ve been distracted, trying to deal. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”

  “We’ll make it. What can I do to help?”

  Finish this job as quickly as possible and skip town. She swallowed the answer past a knot. “We’ll figure it out. What about the doctor?”

  “I don’t feel anything. No threat or malice, or anyone who’s gotten within blocks of us who’s hiding something.” He tilted her chin up and brushed a strand of hair off her forehead. “We’ve both been on edge since the shelter. I get it. We almost got caught, and it’s been ages since that happened.”