That’s how badly Quinn is losing.
Mustering his last bit of strength, he swipes his feet. The crowd, nearly everyone in the gym, shouts when the bastard falls and crashes onto the mat next to Quinn. From there, it’s a scramble. A race to the knees, then to one another. He gets his hands around the man’s massive neck, lost in the haze of competition. His fingers wrap around Quinn’s forearms. He’ll break them.
“What the hell is going on here?”
Her voice cuts through the crowd that has automatically parted to allow her through before they flee. They’re right to scatter. She’s fucking pissed.
Quinn releases his hands and interestingly, so does the guy about to break his arms. He turns his head and sees Astrid standing on the edge of the ring. Owen is next to her, eyebrow raised. Her eyes skirt over Quinn and he can only imagine what he looks like. The taste of blood pools in his mouth.
“Hey,” he says, lifting on a wobbly arm. “You’re home—”
“You?” She’s not looking at him, but rather the brute that pummeled the crap out of him. “What are you doing here? And what the hell are you doing beating the shit out of my…” she glances at him, “Quinn.”
“Just came by to check out your facility.” He looks around. “I’m impressed.”
She stares at them both, blinking with disbelief.
“My office. Now.”
“I’m Draco,” the man says and offers Quinn his hand. This is the guy that works for Demetria. He takes it, reluctantly, because he has a feeling things are about to change; this guy may be an ally, or he could be like Blaze. An enemy. Regardless, he has a feeling that this beast of a man may just be one of them.
*
Mick hands him an ice pack on his way into the office. “Who is that guy?” he asks, watching Draco’s back.
“Someone Astrid knows.”
He laughs. “You did pretty well against him. He’s a beast.”
If only he could have electrocuted him. That would have shut the whole thing down, but it also would have exposed them all and probably sent him to prison. Sometimes it’s better to take a beating and get a feel for your opponent.
He tugs his hoodie over his head, covering the bruises. His lip is already swelling. His eye only opens halfway. Draco doesn’t look nearly as bad, but he knows he got in a few good licks.
What the hell is this guy doing here?
The door slams behind him and Astrid leans against the gym desk.
She looks tired, even though she’s spent the last week at the hospital. Quinn also feels ashamed this is what she came back to. It wasn’t his intention.
He opens his mouth to speak but she holds up her hand. Draco watches her carefully.
“Owen, Quinn…this is Draco. He works for Demetria. He’s the one that picked me up off the road the other day and took me to her office.”
Owen’s eyes narrow, no doubt thinking about Astrid laughing in the back seat of that car.
“So you came to spy on us?” Owen asks.
“I came to check out the gym. And keep an eye on you guys. I was aware Astrid was still in the hospital from her injuries.” He looks at her. “Demetria has been very worried about her.”
“Yeah,” she says, rolling her eyes. “I got her flowers.”
“So, you’re what?” I ask. “One of her bodyguards?”
“I’m on her protective detail,” he replies. His lip is split and his tongue darts out to feel it. “But I’m involved with other parts of her business as well. I perform whatever job she wants me to do.”
The glint in Astrid’s eye tells Quinn she thinks Demetria probably has many uses for Draco. Owen coughs his annoyance.
“Did she ask you to come to my gym and beat the shit out of Quinn?”
He looks at Quinn. “No, he asked me to spar. I was minding my own business.”
Quinn shrugs guiltily and defends himself. “I was being friendly.”
Astrid sighs and rubs her face with her hands. “I’m exhausted. The hospital just released me. This is not what I needed to come back to.”
“I’m sorry,” Quinn says.
She ignores him and glares at Draco. “You don’t get to come in here and assess my business. Or me. Or my friends. You have nothing to do with our arrangement with Demetria. If she wants to talk, then she knows how to get in touch.”
“Actually, she’d like to invite you to dinner tomorrow night. All three of you.”
“Dinner?” Astrid says. “Where?”
“At her house. Tomorrow night.”
So he did come for a reason, and beating the crap out of Quinn wasn’t his primary goal. Just a perk.
“There’s something else,” he says reaching into the pocket of his pants. “This is from me. Not her.”
He reveals a small vial. Inside is a powdery substance.
“What is that?” Owen says. He gives Astrid an uneasy look. “Pixie Dust?”
“A variation, it’s called PD-1. I think you’re aware that if you are using Pixie Dust, it removes the protection you have on one another’s abilities.”
“How do you know that?” Quinn asks.
Draco doesn’t answer. “The R&D department at WIND-E has isolated the chemical that removes that protection. If you inject this powder it will remove the protection for good. Wipe out any recognition. Sort of like a reverse vaccine.”
“Why would we want to use that?” Owen asks. “Why would we take the risk of hurting one another?”
“The lines are getting murky. Don’t think Demetria hasn’t taken this already. The Survivors of Project 12 are popping up all over the place and you don’t know who is a friend and who is an enemy.”
Blaze is the perfect example. No one mentions his name.
Astrid takes the vial and holds it up, looking at the shimmery white substance. “Why are you giving us this, Draco?”
He leans back in his seat. So comfortable, so confident. It’s probably easy to feel that way when you’re built like a Greek god. When he speaks, he looks at Astrid, and Astrid alone. “Because I believe in what you’re doing and I don’t want to see you get hurt.”
Quinn knows she has more questions. He definitely has a million, but Draco stands and says, “She’ll send a car tomorrow night. Six sharp.” He looks over at him on his way to the door and offers his hand. Quinn blinks for a minute, but takes it. “Best competition I’ve ever had. Thank you.”
He exits, leaving the three of them alone in the room.
“That was fucking weird,” Owen says. “But seriously, do I have to go? I’m not a big fan of dinner with creepy chicks who play with ponies.”
“We’re going,” Astrid says, rubbing her forehead. “But right now, I need my bed, my cat, and a bag of chips.”
Owen jumps up and opens the back door. Quinn does too, it just takes him longer, the ache in his muscles spreading.
“So about that bed thing,” Owen says, “How mad are you going to be if we moved you to the dormitory upstairs?”
“You what?”
“We thought it would be better if we’re all close together.” Quinn stands next to them and adds, “We already moved the cat.”
Owen exhales slowly. “He’s been sleeping on my bed.”
Astrid smiles, then laughs, then pushes past them both to go up to her new room.
“Did you buy any chips?” Owen asks him.
“Three cases.”
They laugh, realizing how much she’s trained them in so little time. It’s a good feeling, one he hasn’t had in many years, and from the expression on Owen’s face, he feels it too.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Astrid
Another night of rest helps, and Astrid feels almost whole when she wakes up the following morning. Quinn, on the other hand, looks like shit.
“Do you need some painkillers?” she asks, going for her morning shot of caffeine. The pastry box on the counter will provide the follow-up hit of sugar.
“Took them,” he says from his seat at the table. He nurses a cup of tea. “It looks worse than it feels.”
She bites down on the powdered doughnut and sits next to him. His eye is bruised, his mouth puffy. She kisses him, leaving a dusting of sugar on his lips.