Page 99 of Too Many Beds
“Is getting myself arrested enough or do you need an actual figure?”
Tarrant gives a dry chuckle then offers a quick peck; I suck his lip between mine, trying to claim more.
“I need your help, baby.”
Before I whisper ‘anything’ like a simpering fool, Tarrant hooks an elbow around my neck to direct my gaze.
“See that man over there? Tall, black hair. Scar on his neck?” Tarrant points at the figure he just described with a subtle flick of his hand. “That’s Grey Peter. Don’t know how he got the name, but Idoknow he’s pretty tight with our friend Keven. Not sharing-a-bed-tight, but tight. He’ll know all about his little drug operation.”
I swallow, nerves dancing as we watch the man kick the synthetic food mixer like he’s trying to bust open an old box. “I … uh … Don’t think I’m the right man for getting intel out of someone.” I’m surprised he’d even ask me this; breaking fingers in dark rooms is hardly my forte.
“Don’t need intel, sweetheart, just a distraction. You head over to his cell during rec time after supper and just … keep him busy. Talk his ear off. Put that beautiful mouth to use.”
I hesitate, and he adds, “You’re here to be useful, aren’t you?”
I’m here because I missed you.“Yes. Yes, Tarrant, of course I am. I’ll do it. I’ll do anything.’”
Tarrant flashes his wicked grin and pats me on the cheek. “Of course you will, baby. Now back to work before the top dog notices you slacking.”
Tarrant’s gone over the plan three times already and it’s beginning to set my nerves alight. Self-doubt prickles upmy arms with each passing second as we wait around the corner in C Block for Grey Peter to return to his cell after supper.
“Got it. And no one else will be here?” I ask again.
“C spends this time in the gym. Apparently, our mate Peter doesn’t care too much about improving his stamina for the betterment of the Authority. Why don’t you go find out why?” Tarrant tucks a blond curl behind my ear, the achingly tender gesture bringing a hot tightness to my belly. “Make sure you give Kon and I enough time to have a nice long chat to Keven about his … ambitions.”
“I will. I promise.”
Tarrant presses a kiss to my temple, as firm and reassuring as a clap on the shoulder. I want to fold into him, to beg for another way to be useful. I’ve never been a smooth talker; I can’t lie my way out of a paper bag. My role with Tarrant’s gang on the outside is supportive—the lookout sent to raise the alarm if a deal goes bad.
I suck in a deep breath. “What if I?—”
“Shh, he’s coming.”
With that, Tarrant disappears down the corridor, canvas shoes whisper-quiet on the scuffed floor.
My heart leaps into my mouth and I try to make my visit look casual and curious. It’s rec time, so the door to C Block’s common room is open, waiting for the inmates to return to their cells for the 9pm headcount. I tuck my hands into my pockets to hide their shaking and step into the empty lounge.
It’s messier than ours; the PKTs and old journals are scattered about the room, one open and dog-eared to an article about refining the flavour profiles of NourishPodz. Horridly dry stuff.
“You lost, little lamb?”
I nearly shit myself. I turn to see Grey Peter fill the doorway, his jumpsuit undone and hair still wet from the showers. Hischest is mangled with scars and I realise now that his left eye is colourless—blind.
Grey.
“I, uh …” I swallow the stone in my throat and back away. My calves collide with the couch, knocking me down on my arse. “Just thought I’d … get to know some of the other p-people in here. Hi. I’m Eden.” I stretch out my hand; he doesn’t take it.
“Peter,” he grunts. He steps into the room and shuts the door behind him. Immediately my hair goes up. I feel it prickle across my whole body, telling me to run.
“So how you want to do this?”
Do what?I should ask, but the words don’t form.
“I can take you right here.” He shrugs out of his sleeves. “Or we can take it to my cell. Your choice.”
I stare, frozen and afraid as the rest of Grey Peter’s clothes fall to his feet. He steps out of the pooled jumpsuit, kicking at the stubborn pant leg still clinging to his ankle. With a casual stride, he approaches, his half-erect cock level with my eyeline. I try to scoot back on my hands and feet but the couch is behind me; I’ve got nowhere to go.
“Tarrant said you got a good mouth on you,” Peter says. He reaches down and grabs a fistful of my hair, dragging my face towards his groin. “Let’s find out.”