Page 5 of King of Lies (Mayhem Manuscripts Season One: 1nf3ction #6)

Satisfied I hadn’t done any serious damage, I focused on Tobias, the two of us in a standoff as old as time, knives extended in front of us. He was dressed, which meant he hadn’t gone to bed and that he’d expected my arrival. “You knew I was following you.”

“I did. You weren’t that good at it.”

“When? In the alley?”

He laughed. “Before that. As soon as I left the bar. I only went down the alley to see if you’d make your move. What happened? Did you lose your nerve?”

“Too high a chance of you getting away,” I answered honestly. “I decided it would be wiser to wait.”

Tobias nodded. “A consideration, for sure.” He jerked his head toward the door without taking his eyes off me. “You picked the lock.”

“I did.”

“Where did you learn how to do that?”

“You ask a lot of questions.”

“You came into my room without an invitation. I think I’m entitled to ask a few questions, don’t you?”

“Maybe,” I admitted. “But that doesn’t mean I’m going to answer them.”

Tobias nodded, his eyes narrowed. He didn’t seem unduly worried by the move I’d just pulled to put us back on an even footing. Not externally, anyway. No sweat. No signs of an accelerated heart rate. Still. Steady. Prepared. Dangerous. “How about an easier question?”

“That depends.”

“Your name, for a start. I’m assuming you know mine.”

“Tobias Breeze.”

“Tobias Breeze,” he agreed, the slight smile that pulled at his lips saying there was something amusing about it.

“Keaton Levine.”

“Pretty name.” His eyes didn’t say it was pretty. His eyes said he was calculating how the information might be useful.

I turned slightly to take in more of the room, Tobias turning with me, like we were part of a choreographed dance. The room was basic, without a lot of furniture, which made for few hiding places. A chest of drawers. A wardrobe. Under the floorboards, if he was creative enough.

He followed my gaze. “How about you tell me what you came for? Maybe I can help.”

I reached up to my neck with my free hand, brushing my hand over the spot where he’d held the knife. There was only the slightest smear of blood when I examined my fingers.

“Just a scratch,” he said with a level of amusement I didn’t appreciate.

“How about I just scratch you? Tit for tat.”

“Sure. If you can get close enough.” I moved, Tobias yet again moving with me to keep me in sight. “It’s late,” he said. “I was hoping to get some sleep tonight.” When I didn’t comment, he let out a sigh. “There are only three reasons you’re here.”

“And they are?”

“Option one, you saw me in the rain. Shirt so transparent you could see everything. Or so I’ve been told. And you thought you’d like a piece of me. But you’re not big on romance and taking it slow. You prefer the more brutish approach of breaking in and taking what you want.”

Despite the sharp stab of arousal his words evoked, I managed a snort.

He was right about one thing. I might have been more interested in what he had and how to get my hands on it, but I had noticed the attractive picture he’d made, a passing thought occurring that in other circumstances he might have been someone I approached. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

“Option two, then. You want the money I made tonight?”

“No.”

“So you want the suppressants? You’re infected.”

For someone also infected, he made it sound like it was a personal failing of mine, that I was a lesser human being for it. “Yes.”

“Well, then you’re fresh out of luck because I sold them all. They were very popular.”

“All of them?”

“All that I had with me.”

“Can you get more?”

Tobias cocked his head to one side, weighing his answer carefully. “Maybe.”

“Or you could tell me where the laboratory is, so I can go there myself.”

He laughed. “Now, why would I do a thing like that?”

I ran a few answers through my head, trying them out for size. Most people were simple. You just needed to appeal to their egos. “To be helpful. I’d be forever grateful.”

“And what exactly is your gratitude going to get me? Will it put food on the table?”

“No.”

“Will it give me something to trade for medical supplies?”

“No.”

“Will it keep me warm at night?”

“Apparently not.” There was no keeping the bitterness out of my voice.

“Then what the fuck would I want with it?” This was a different Tobias Breeze to the man who’d had a crowd wrapped around his little finger only a few hours earlier.

Colder. Harder. And neither of those things had anything to do with the blade in his hand.

“Here’s a free piece of advice,” he said.

“Stay the fuck out of the rain. That’s what most people do. ”

I considered telling him why I wanted them so badly and then thought better of it. “Great advice. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” He jerked his head toward the door. “Now get the fuck out of my room before I change my mind about cutting your throat.”

“You couldn’t even if you wanted to.” Despite my bravado, I took a step that way. There was nothing else to be gained here tonight. It was time to retreat and regroup, and come up with a plan C. I still wanted the suppressants, but I needed to figure out how to persuade him to get more for me.

He watched me all the way to the door, never blinking, knife still held at the ready. Could I take him in a fight? I had at least a hundred pounds on him, most of it muscle, so it was probable. He’d only bested me because he’d used the element of surprise.

But then what? Kidnap him? Somehow get him out of town without anyone coming to his aid? I didn’t fancy my chances of pulling it off. Especially when, after tonight’s little performance, he was one of the most recognizable faces in town.

I let myself be maneuvered toward the door.

A fraction of a second after I’d stepped over the threshold, the door was kicked shut.

“Nice to meet you, Tobias Breeze,” I said to the wood.

I lingered there for a moment, a scraping sound telegraphing him dragging the chest of drawers in front of the door.

Which begged the question of why he hadn’t done that earlier if he’d known he was being followed.

I pondered that while I sheathed my knife and carried out a more thorough inspection of both my neck and my hand. The neck wound had stopped bleeding, Tobias’ interpretation of it as ‘just a scratch’ not that far from the truth. Whereas the cut on my hand was deeper and would require cleaning.

Had he set a trap because he wanted to find out what I wanted from him? That was the obvious conclusion. Which was interesting. In fact, I’d even go so far as describe the entire interaction that way.

Tobias Breeze might just be the most interesting person I’d met in years, and I wasn’t done with him yet.