by Kitty Cox
"You know what?" she told Braden. "I don't care. Mark said we have to fail a few times before we get it right." She tipped her cup to her boyfriend, doing everything in his power not to make out with his employee in public. "Maybe he fucks her. Maybe she regrets it. I have a feeling it'll be ok, though."
"Why?" Braden asked.
Dez smiled, sucking the straw into her mouth. "Because we're all real, and that makes it ok to screw up," she said around the plastic, then pulled in a long drink.
The minty chocolate taste was bitter. Dez took another sip, convinced she'd found a pocket of some liquor, then gasped, jerking up her head with panic in her eyes. That wasn't alcohol. It was bitter. Too bitter. And she'd just swallowed an entire mouthful.
"Brae?"
She reached for him, even as the drug made her vision swim. Without thinking, he caught her arm just as the eerily green drink tumbled to the floor. Every fiber in her body was short-circuiting. She couldn't sit up. She couldn't focus. The rush of heat was tumbling through her veins and her heart was pounding. She knew the feeling. So many times she'd lost herself in it. She was about to black out from whatever she'd just swallowed, and couldn't even manage to tell her closest friend. That's when her stomach rebelled.
Heaving didn't help. It didn't give her back her sanity. The flashing lights became a kaleidoscope of color. The room began to spin. Just as Dez felt oblivion crashing into her, she heard a voice. Not the voice, but another. She'd always thought there was only one, but now she wasn't sure. Her mind was swimming, and she couldn't be sure, but this one cut right through her. It came from the chair beside her, from the man who'd been so boring she hadn't even noticed him.
"Is Destiny Pierce high or something?"
"Dez?" Braden yelled, shaking her. "Dez!"
She could barely make her eyes move. There was no way she could warn him about the voice. Looking over was the hardest thing she'd ever done, but somehow Dez managed, and her eyes landed on a man she didn't recognize. He was smiling.Smiling like he'd just won, but she didn't even know who he was. She just knew his voice. He'd been there. He'd laughed when they cut her apart.
Fuck him.
Her eyes rolled up in her head, and she felt her stomach tense just as she forgot the world even existed. Thankfully, she didn't feel the floor when she crashed into it. She didn't hear the scream from Braden. She certainly didn't see Chance shoving people aside as he rushed over.
Chapter 28
"What happened?" Chance demanded, dropping down beside Dez.
Braden was digging in his pocket for his phone. "Dunno. She was fine, then she wasn't. She just dropped." He pressed three buttons then held his phone to his ear. "Make sure she doesn't choke, I'm calling 911."
"Hey?" the man sitting at the bar asked. "Isn't that the girl from the Flawed trailer?"
Chance ignored him, slipping an arm under Dez to pick her up. Before he could lift, she heaved again, forcing him to roll her to her side. From the edge of his vision, he saw bouncers moving toward them. Chance didn't care. Nothing at all mattered except Dez. As soon as she stopped puking, he lifted her eyelid, not shocked at all to find her eyes completely dilated.
"Fuck," he snarled. "C'mon, baby. You're not a puker, remember?"
"She an addict?" the man asked, dropping off his stool to get closer.
Chance shot him a cold glare. "Why do you care?"
He smiled, but it wasn't kind. "Arturo Ganza from Cyber magazine. You're Chance Hunter, right?"
But Chance's attention was back on Dez. His fingers were on her pulse, feeling it beat, but too fast. "Brae? We gotta get her out of here."
"Ambulance coming to the front," Braden said, moving in that direction to break the path for Chance. "Move!" he yelled.
From the side, Jeff saw. He caught up with his phone in his hands, his thumbs flying across the screen. "What'd she do?" he asked.
"No idea," Chance said, wishing the door was closer. "Stay with me, Dez. C'mon, girl."
The brief, white glare made Jeff look back. "Fuck," he hissed, pressing closer to Chance. "Pictures."
"Don't fucking care," Chance grumbled, walking faster.
In his arms, Dez weighed nothing. She also wasn't moving. She didn't try to fight him, didn't make any sounds of complaint. She was out cold, completely oblivious to the world.
This was all his fault. He was the one who wanted to come party. He'd talked her into it. She would have been happier back at the hotel, and he could have made sure she didn't take anything. He'd been waiting for her to slip up. He knew she still had the pills, but going so long without them meant they'd hit her harder. She didn't have the tolerance, but would she have overdosed intentionally? Did she mean to do this?
Was she trying to quit?
He could barely see, but knew he had to get through the door. People were looking. This wasn't something they could hide, but he didn't give a shit. He just had to get Dez to the door so the paramedics could take care of her. Fuck the convention. Fuck Silk. Fuck Deviant Games. He just had to get her to the paramedics so she would start moving again. He had to make sure she was ok, even if she never talked to him again.
"Move!" Braden yelled again.
The last few people jumped to the side, then the cold air hit them. Outside. They were in front of the club and he could hear the sirens. It wouldn't be long now. They were going to take care of her, and then everything would be ok. Except it wouldn't. They'd touch her. They'd stick needles in her, pump her stomach, and touch her over and over. If she didn't break, it would be a miracle.
"Dez," he breathed, stumbling to a patch of grass at the side where he set her down. "C'mon, Sugar. I can't do this without you, kid."
She lurched again, and he barely had enough time to turn her before she began to shake. This time, it wasn't from vomiting. Starting in the middle of her body, the tremor grew until she was wracked with seizures and nothing could hold her still. Chance tried. He did everything to keep her from flopping into anything, but he couldn't stop it.
"Dez!" he wailed.
"Over here!" Braden was screaming, waving his hands.
Then Chance was shoved aside as three large men moved around Dez. "Get the fuck off her," he snapped, pushing the one closest.
"We're here to help," the man said, but it wasn't enough.
He was trying to touch Dez, and no one did that. He'd promised her that he'd keep her safe. He'd sworn he wouldn't let anyone touch her, but they were. They were touching all over her. In a panic, Chance lunged again.
He never made it. Strong arms caught his waist. Lean hands pressed against his chest. In the back of his mind, he knew it was happening, but all he could see was his girl, laying there like a corpse and his sanity fled. Chance tried to shove forward, surging to break free of the restraint. Then pain erupted across his face as someone slapped him.
"Chance," Amy hissed, grabbing his face to make him look at her. "Calm the fuck down or you won't be going with her. Get your shit together, because the whole world is watching." She tilted her head at the crowd forming behind them, most people holding up a phone.
"I don't fucking care," Chance growled.
Braden shook him, proving it was his arms around his waist. "Start, bro. You think Dez is gonna thank you for fucking this up? It's the only reason she didn't quit."
"That," Amy added, "and you. She's alive, Chance. She'll be ok. Nothing stops Dez."
"Destiny," one of the paramedics was saying, trying to get her attention. "Can you hear me?"
"It's Dez," Chance yelled. "Her name is Dez!"
"Dez," the man tried, ignoring the anger in Chance's voice. "Can you hear me?"
One arm jerked up, away from the hand on it. Chance nearly broke from Braden's grasp as he tried to reach her. "Don't touch her. She's haphephobic."
"She's what?" the man asked, looking up with wide eyes.
"Fear of touch," Sam said, stepping forward. "Deal with him, Amy." Then she moved closer to the paramedics. "She was hurt rea
lly bad and can't tolerate human touch. Dez?"
That arm flopped, but it looked more like an attempt to wave. A second later, Dez turned her head.
"Oh god, Sugar," Chance breathed. This time, Braden let him go. Chance dropped to her side, leaning between two of the paramedics. "Dez, you're gonna be ok, but they have to touch you."
She almost nodded, her head shifting only millimeters. "Silk," she mumbled.
"I don't fucking care," Chance assured her.
Her eyelids fluttered. "Silk," she said again, but it was barely intelligible.
"What's she saying?" the paramedic asked.
"The name of her game," Chance explained, taking a long breath. "I'm going with her."
"Bro, room key?" Braden demanded. Chance pulled it from his pocket and tossed it back, not even caring that it landed in the grass. Braden snagged it, then took over. "Amy, you're about to get the spotlight. She was at the bar, doing just fine, then collapsed – "
"Wait," a different paramedic said. "Sober, then like this?"
"Yeah?" Braden looked confused.
"Draw blood," he told the man on the other side. "She's gonna need a tox screen."
"Oh fuck," Amy whined. "Someone drugged her?" She grabbed Braden's arm. "Did she go anywhere? Bathroom, anything?"
"No."
She nodded. "Ok, so not raped again."
"Again?" the paramedic asked.
"Haphephobic," Chance grumbled. "Why aren't we at the hospital?"
The man pointed to her arm. "Gotta get her stable, sir. She's probably not feeling well, but she's doing ok, aren't ya, Dez?"
A lean thumb jerked to the sky, but she couldn't even lift her arm.
The paramedic chuckled. "That's great, Dez. Now we're trying not to touch you, but I can't promise, ok? I also don't want to give you any sedatives, because we don't know what you're on. Can you give me another thumbs up if you understand?"
Once more, her thumb jerked up, and she said, "Is ok." Her head flopped over and she tried to pry her eyes open. "Have 'ance."
"Yeah, Sugar. Always," Chance promised. "I'll be right there, ok?"
"Yeah." Then she sighed.
"What was that?" he asked, watching for her chest to rise again.
"It's ok," the paramedic assured him. "I think she passed out. Chance?"
"Yeah."
"I need you on the other side. We're going to get her on this stretcher and into the ambulance. I can only have one person ride with us."
"Sure." He looked back at his team. "I'll let you know where we are."
"Go," Amy told him, stepping back. "We'll handle everything else."
"I don't care about anything else."
Amy just nodded. "I know. It's ok. Just take care of her." Then she turned back to the Flawed team. "Brae?"
"Silk is Dez's life." He looked at each of them, then back to his friend being loaded into the ambulance. "This is going to hit the gamer press in a few minutes. How the fuck are we spinning it?"
"She was drugged," Amy said. "Someone roofied her drink."
"No." Jeff shoved a hand into his hair, waiting for the sirens to fade with distance so he could be heard. "It's not that easy. They're going to drag her through the mud. This is going to hit the national news, guys."
Mark leaned closer and dropped his voice. "Who's the guy with the recorder?"
"Fucker was trying to make it a story before we even got her out of the club," Braden growled. "Cyber Magazine."
"Fuck," Jeff whispered, looking over. "Amy, did you talk to him earlier?"
"Maybe. I dunno."
He grabbed Braden's arm. "This morning, man? Dez heard someone."
Braden nodded slowly. "Who told her to never touch another game."
Mark sucked in a deep breath. It sounded like he was trying not to lose it. "The Opposition," he said as he let it out.
They all knew what he meant. They'd designed Flawed after Dez's life. She'd been broken by "The Opposition." Someone who had wanted her to stay out of games. Someone who'd done horrible things to her. Someone who thought they were above the rules. She also had never said they caught them all.
"Hey?" Sam yelled, storming over to him. "You're a reporter, right?"
"Yeah," the guy drawled, looking smug. "So Destiny Pierce overdosed?"
"Got a card?" She smiled. "I'll give ya an exclusive, now that my boss is outta here."
"Sure." He reached into his back pocket, then held it out.
She took it and gestured to the crowd filled with cell phones. "Arturo Ganza? Are you the fucker that spiked my friend's drink? She was doing just fine, then she passed out. Considering we don't leave her alone, seems a little fishy, and we all know you were sitting next to her."
"Yeah? You forget the part about where she's an addict?"
Sam shrugged. "Is that the best you got? Thanks for the card. I'll be sure the cops get it. See, there's one thing you asshats don't understand. We're flawed. We're a team. You can't hurt her because we won't let you."
"Sam!" Amy yelled, cutting her off.
"Fuck you," Sam finished. "I hope she presses charges because we have three witnesses who say you're the only one who could have done this."
"Samantha Zelis," Amy grabbed her arm and pulled her away. "What do you think you're doing?" she asked once they were out of earshot.
"You wanna spin this story?" She looked to the team, glaring at all of them. "Then spin it with truth. Dez is fucked up, yeah. So are we all. For once, it's not the games causing the problem. They're the reason she's getting better."
"Fuck," Braden breathed. "That changes our demographics a bit. You know this drug thing is going to blow up, right?"
Sam nodded. "Oh yeah. No matter what we do, that's gonna happen. Like Chance has said so many times, Deviant Games supports her decision."
Amy lifted her chin and began to give orders. "Mark, call the attorney. Braden, Jeff, go to their room and find her some clothes. The rest of you, get our booth locked up. I'll find a car."
"Chance's truck," Braden said. "He drove here."
"Perfect. Let's make this fast, because I want to be moving as soon as we know where she is. I want to make sure we're all there when Dez wakes up, and if the cameras hit, they see us in a hospital, not a convention hall."
Chapter 29
"Game developer Deviant Games caused a scene late last night when one of the co-owners passed out from an apparent overdose in the Conventional Club, next door to the annual F5 game convention. The company is claiming that someone slipped the drugs into Destiny Pierce's drink. Others say that Ms. Pierce has a history of drug abuse – "
Chance changed the channel.
" – debating whether or not Chance Hunter has any knowledge of her previous drug use. Sources close to the company say Mr. Hunter not only knew but assisted her with obtaining illegal narcotics."
Again, he pressed the button.
"This," a woman said into a padded microphone, "is not the kind of company I want selling games to my boys. They're impressionable enough. I don't need some game trying to tell them that getting high is a good thing. And this girl is one of the owners! I hope she – "
He gave up and turned it off. Sighing, he rubbed at his face, wishing he knew what to do. Every channel. Every broadcast. They were all the same, and Dez was the one they were after. A few tried to make him look bad, but he didn't care. The worst part was that they'd gotten so close. So fucking close. He sighed again.
"Hey." The voice was almost too weak for him to hear.
Dez had spent the night with a tube down her throat. She'd been given more meds than he could remember, but by the time the sun came up, the doctors said she'd be ok. Unfortunately, they also said she might have a relapse and fall back into drug use. Ketamine affected the same part of her brain as the opiates, which meant the next few days were going to be hard.
"Morning, Sugar. How ya feel?"
She took a deep breath, then smiled. "Like shit. What happened?"
"Wha
t do you remember?"
She shook her head against the pillow. "Nothing. Braden was hitting on Jeff, and then I woke up this morning."
"Someone slipped some ketamine and a few synthetic drugs into your drink. Emergency room doctors said it's not an uncommon cocktail for date rape."
He watched her swallow, accepting all of that. "Did I get raped?" she asked, sounding too calm.
"No," he promised. "Oh, no, Sugar. You were by Braden the whole time. You took a drink, Brae thinks you tasted something, then you reached for him and passed out."
"That's it?" Her eyes were locked on the far wall.
Chance leaned over, forcing her to look at him. "Except for the puking and seizures, yeah. We swore we wouldn't leave you alone. The only time one of us wasn't with you was when the doctors kicked me out."
Slowly, her breath rushed out and her lids closed. A second later, she sniffed, then reached up to wipe at her eyes. All Chance could do was wait. He wouldn't force her to do anything, not even tell him what she was thinking. His job was just to be there for her.
"Thank you," she mumbled, sounding like she was fighting back tears.
"Hey," he whispered. "I know you'd do the same for me. Partners, remember?"
"Yeah, but..." She huffed a laugh that sounded almost happy. "I kinda like having friends."
Time for the shitty part. "It's not all good. The story made the news."
She sat up so fast he jerked back. One of the machines beeped, proving she'd even managed to startle the medical equipment. "Gamer news?"
"Las Vegas. It's all over the TV."
"Fuck!" Her fingers were trembling. "What are we going to do?"
"Get you better and take you home."
"Silk!" She turned but looked like it took all the strength she had. "We can't take any bad press. If Silk fails, then Deviant Games does too."
