The Gender Lie (The Gender Game #3) Page 4

  The sun was uncomfortably warm on my head. We had been sitting for over an hour, waiting for our ride to show up. According to Owen, they were late but on their way. There wasn’t much to do during the wait, so most of the group elected to take a nap. I refrained, mostly because I didn’t want to worry about my disguise getting messed up from sleeping on the ground. Owen had also refused, saying that his contacts needed to see him first so that they didn’t shoot everyone and ask questions later.

  He said it in a joking tone, but I wasn’t convinced. I was more than a little curious about the people Owen was using to shuttle us into Patrus.

  I looked over to where he was sitting. He had his back to me and was staring at his handheld. We had both decided to sit on the massive rock jutting out of the ground, while Quinn, Amber, and Solomon slept below in the shade.

  “Owen,” I called softly, so as not to disturb the others.

  “Hmm?”

  He didn’t even turn his head to look at me, and I gave an irritated sigh. Picking up a small rock, I tossed it at him, hitting him on the shoulder. He froze as the rock clacked across the boulder, skittering to the grass below.

  Turning, he arched a brow at me, and I gave him a fake smile and a little wave.

  “Yes?”

  I ignored his annoyed tone and asked, “Who are the people who are picking us up?”

  Owen frowned, a line growing between his eyebrows. “It’s not really important to the mission,” he said, starting to turn away.

  “Great! Then you should be able to tell me, right?”

  He turned back, his blue eyes trained on me. “Why do you want to know?”

  I crossed my arms. “Look, I understand the need for operational security and all that, but the lack of information is starting to get to me.”

  “I… I don’t understand.”

  I gaped at him, but then closed my mouth when I saw the seriousness in his face.

  “Wow. Okay… well...” I paused, searching for the words that could make him understand my position. “The last mission I was on, key details were excluded, which sort of led to me being in this mess. I don’t like walking into anything blind now, if I can avoid it. So… just give me this, okay?”

  Owen considered my request as he leaned back on his hands and crossed his legs out in front of him. “All right,” he said. “The people who are coming to get us belong to a different rebel faction based out of Patrus. They have ways to cross in and out of the border that we don’t, so we employ them from time to time to help smuggle us in and out.”

  I frowned—another rebel faction based in Patrus? Why hadn’t I heard of them? What did they stand for?

  The last question worried me quite a bit, so I decided to ask, “Where do their loyalties lie?”

  Owen’s face looked resigned. “I’m not going to lie to you, Violet—they are Patrian through and through. Which is why I had you and Amber change before we even got off the boat. They are paranoid, enough to have set up lookouts to make sure we are what we claim we are.”

  “And that is?”

  Owen’s face flushed red—not in embarrassment, but in something else that I couldn’t exactly place. “Matrian flesh dealers.”

  “WHAT?” I exclaimed, rising to my feet.

  My shout was loud enough to wake the others, from the groans and whispers below.

  “Everything okay up there?” Solomon called. I glanced over to see him backing away from the boulder, his hands over his eyes to shield his gaze from the sun.

  Owen sighed heavily and hauled himself onto his feet to stand before me. “I guess it’s a good thing we talked about this now,” he spat, brushing dirt from his clothes. “Because if this is how you’re going to react, you’re going to break our cover.”

  “So what—Amber’s our Matrian female, whom we abducted to auction off to a rich Patrian?” I asked.

  Owen laughed, and I took a step back, stunned. How could he be so blasé about this?

  “Violet, we aren’t really going to sell Amber. You know that, right?”

  “Of course I do, but—”

  “And she’s perfectly okay with it.”

  “Am not!” Amber declared from below.

  Owen grunted. “Amber, what’s the reason you’re not okay with it?”

  “Dresses are stupid,” she said.

  “But other than that?”

  “Oh, yeah, if I didn’t have to wear the dress, I would be perfectly fine with it. I don’t care.”

  I rolled my eyes in annoyance. “Missing the point here, guys,” I said, addressing all of them.

  Solomon pulled himself up the rock and came to stand next to us. “All right, what’s the point?” he asked, his voice even and calm.

  “If we have to pretend that Amber is a Matrian woman we kidnapped just to get a ride from these people, shouldn’t we be asking if they are the kind of people we should be dealing with in the first place?”

  Owen shook his head. “You’re looking too deeply into it, Violet. They are providing a service. In order for us to complete our mission, we have to do it. There are no other options available.”

  “But—”

  He cut me off, holding up a hand in warning. I felt my anger grow at being silenced so rudely, when suddenly I heard it—the distant sound of an engine. Solomon and Owen exchanged a look, and immediately sprang into action.

  “Quinn, get Amber’s hands tied up and get the remaining gear together. Solomon, go out in front of the boulder and have your weapon out, but not pointed at them. Violet… get off the rock and get down here to help us.”

  I raced to follow his orders. As much as I wanted to fight it out with him, now was not the time. I didn’t want to risk jeopardizing the mission over an ideological squabble. My own reservations didn’t matter at that moment, only Viggo did. Except that I was still unable to get the uncomfortable feeling in my stomach to go away.

  I meant what I’d said to Owen—any people we had to put on an act for, especially one as demeaning as this, were people we should be steering clear of. It bothered me how matter-of-fact Owen and the others were about it, like it was just a walk in the park.

  But I kept my mouth closed and began grabbing the gear. I could hear the vehicle getting closer while I worked to make sure everything was in order and accounted for. I was just pulling a bag onto my shoulders when brakes squealed.

  The sound of the engine died, and Solomon gave a greeting. A deeper male voice responded, and suddenly I remembered I hadn’t taken my Deepvox pills. Shooting a glance at Owen, I took off my pack and began rummaging around in it.

  “What are you doing?” he hissed.

  “I forgot to take the pills—if they talk to me, they’re going to know.”

  Owen clenched his jaw and then nodded. “Just keep your mouth closed for as long as possible. They won’t work instantly, and they’re a little old, so I don’t know how that affects their potency.”

  I grabbed the box of pills and dropped two in my hand. Pulling up my canteen, I swallowed them down and dumped everything back in the bag. Owen pushed by me with his own bag on his shoulders. I hurriedly replaced everything in my bag and pulled it on.

  Running a hand over my face, I checked to make sure my goatee was still in place. It was hard to know without a mirror, so I looked over to where Quinn was passing me by with Amber in tow. I frowned at her bound hands and the rope that hung between them like a leash.

  I knew I shouldn’t feel so repulsed by it—after all, Viggo had tied me up like that once. Of course, at that time, he had been angry with me, and had a hard time believing that I was being honest with him. Still, I doubted I would be able to pretend to be the prisoner for something as disturbing as this.

  Amber didn’t complain though, just made a goofy face at me as she walked by. The face made me smile a little, and I pushed my complaints about the mission aside.

  I was reacting too strongly—I needed to let it go.

  I moved to follow, coming around the roc
k to take a good look at our escorts, and then froze. A man was standing before Solomon and Owen, talking with them. I didn’t recognize him, but the tattoo under his eye told me more about who we were working with than talking to him ever could.

  The black triangle tattoo was the mark of the Porteque gang. The gang that had been labeled terrorists, and were the ultimate form of misogyny.

  My stomach turned as my mind took me back to that cell they had held me in. To the sounds and smells in that dank hole. I had been very lucky—Viggo had drummed up a response team quickly, and thanks to the tracking bug Lee had laced my water with, they had found me before things got too bad.

  But I had still killed one of them, and that made me public enemy number one to these men. If they recognized me, there would be nothing we could do to stop them from taking me again. There were sixteen men standing behind the one talking to Owen and Solomon, each with a dangerous look in their eyes, and each holding weapons.

  I swallowed hard and kept my head down, waiting.

  After a while, the three men finished their discussion. I watched as Owen handed something off to their leader, who tipped his hat to him, a smile breaking out on his face.

  Owen motioned for us to move toward the truck, and we did. A few of the men made leering sounds toward Amber, but were careful not to touch her.

  Amber kept her head held high and ignored them. I followed behind at a more sedate pace, and paused when I was next to Owen.

  “These men are in the Porteque gang,” I whispered to him.

  “I know, Violet. They’re giving us passage to the city.”

  “I understand that, but I was taken by them once. I killed one of their men. If they know it’s me, then…”

  I trailed off at Owen’s glare. “Be polite and keep your head down,” he ordered. “I promise… we’ll get through this.”

  He moved away toward the truck and I followed, my eyes riveted on the truck as anxiety rose in me. I wasn’t sure how I was going to do this, but if I wanted to make sure everyone with me made it out alive, I would have to.

  7

  Violet

  Surprisingly, the trip went smoothly. Owen had managed to pull Solomon and Quinn aside before they got on, and they made room for me and Amber between them. If the Porteque gang realized something was up, they didn’t say anything.

  I spent most of the ride pretending to sleep—which was difficult. The truck they had provided jostled over every bump and hole, throwing us up in the air multiple times. The seats were hard and made of metal, and after an hour of bouncing on them, it felt like I would never be able to walk again.

  After three hours, the ride evened out. At my questioning glance, Solomon leaned over and whispered that we were now on a road, and that it would take another two hours to reach our destination. I exhaled, and then leaned back to try to pretend to rest again.

  I actually managed to sleep until the truck came to a complete stop, jerking me awake. Stiff and sore, I stood and stretched, watching as the men leapt out of the back of the truck, pulling aside the heavy canvas flaps. I let everyone climb out first, and then slipped out behind them, dragging the bags to the tailgate.

  Owen was massaging his lower back and looking around. We were parked behind a massive warehouse, walls enclosing the compound. I could smell the deep rich earth smell that seemed permanent in Patrus. We were close to one of the farms, but within the city, like they had promised.

  Quinn passed Amber’s rope over to Owen, who jerked her close. The Porteque men laughed at her cry of pain, and I turned away before anyone could notice the frown that his action caused. I knew it was an act, put on for the gang members’ benefit, but it still didn’t sit right with me.

  Slinging the bag on my shoulder, I stood silently behind Owen while he and the Porteque leader shook hands.

  “Thanks again, Peter,” Owen said, a broad smile on his face.

  “No problem, Sam,” rasped Peter. He shot a glance at Amber, a calculating look in his eyes. “You sure you don’t want to let me and the boys take her for a few days? She looks like she could definitely benefit from our education program.”

  The men behind him guffawed, and my hand clenched into a fist around the strap of my backpack.

  Owen chuckled with him, but shook his head apologetically. “Sorry, Peter, but you know the drill. They don’t pay for damaged goods—and they want to break in those Matrians themselves, y’know?”

  I tried to keep my face neutral in the face of Owen’s act, but it was hard. Maybe it was because I was so bad at acting, but Owen’s ability to slip into a role this chauvinistic bothered me. A lot.

  Peter was nodding in agreement. “I can imagine those Matrian women are quite a handful,” he said. “Maybe I’ll need to order one from you next time.”

  Owen laughed. “Peter, don’t take this the wrong way, but I don’t think you can afford it—these girls cost a lot, considering everything we have to do to get them.”

  Peter gave a laugh that made my skin crawl. “I hear you there, brother. Well, take care, and let us know when you need to smuggle another one in, all right?”

  Owen nodded and extended a hand. “Of course.”

  Peter gave a whistle and the Porteque gang clambered back aboard the truck. We stood and watched as they started to drive away. Owen raised his hand in one final wave as they disappeared around the corner.

  Almost immediately, he spat on the ground, as if he had a foul taste in his mouth, and dropped the rope leading to Amber.

  “I hate working with them,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his hand over his mouth in an attempt to clean it.

  Solomon nodded in wordless agreement, his fingers already flying over the knots binding Amber’s wrists together.

  “I think you did a good job,” Amber said, her voice quiet.

  Owen shot her a look and then let out a breath. “Yeah, well, it doesn’t make it feel any better,” he said.

  Amber wiggled out of her ropes and threw her arms around Owen’s neck. “Don’t worry about it, Owen. Let’s just get to where we need to go so I can take this monkey suit off.”

  I watched the scene unfold, feeling relieved. Knowing that Owen hated doing what he did helped me feel a lot better. All the resentment that had been building up in me during our five-hour trip had receded, and I felt better knowing at the very least, the others felt as I did.

  Owen shouldered his pack and turned toward me. “You okay?” he asked and I nodded.

  “So, where to next?”

  He studied my face for a few moments, then shot me a mischievous smile. “You’ll see.”

  I suppressed a groan and followed him. He led us away from the warehouse and over a few streets. The sky was starting to darken, the traffic on the roads becoming thinner. This area clearly wasn’t a hub for nightlife—it appeared to be a series of factories for food processing and distribution.

  Owen led us down an empty street and then stopped, consulting with the handheld. “All right—Solomon, get the cover.”

  I had a moment of confusion, until Solomon pulled a crowbar out of his bag and knelt in the middle of the street. Already, Quinn, Owen, and Amber were facing away from him, monitoring the streets around us.

  I followed suit, but then I heard a loud metal clang, loud enough to make me jump. I whirled and found Solomon straining, shoving the manhole cover off the sewer pipe leading under the street.

  “We’re going down there?” I whispered, my mind recalling the dark, cramped space of the ventilation shaft from the facility where I had spent the better part of a day wiggling around, looking for a way out.

  Owen looked at me over his shoulder and, seeing the hesitance in my face, smiled encouragingly. “Don’t worry—we’ve been down there dozens of times. Not too many rats, and the smell isn’t that terrible.”

  I swallowed and moved over to the edge of the hole. The blackness was engulfing, the light from the moon and streetlamps barely able to penetrate. I pulled out my flashlight an
d then squatted down, clicking it on. There was a ladder leading down.

  Placing the flashlight between my teeth, I stepped onto the ladder before I could have second thoughts.

  I was down in a matter of seconds, my feet splashing as I landed in the middle of a puddle. I grimaced in disgust, and raised my hand over my mouth and nose. This place smelled awful.

  “You lied to me,” I said, skittering back a few paces as Owen splashed down from above. Through the flashlight, I caught his grin.

  “Sorry.”

  “No, you’re not,” I accused, and he chuckled.

  “You’re right. I’m not. Also… you sound really funny right now,” he said with a wink, referencing my deepened voice.

  I rolled my eyes at him as Amber and Quinn dropped down next to us, and then Solomon, after some grunting and groaning as he worked the manhole cover back into place.

  “Now what?” I asked.

  Owen pulled something out of his bag and fitted it to his flashlight. It was a blue filter, which was weird, until he began pointing it at the wall.

  “There,” Amber said, tapping on Owen’s shoulder and pointing to the left. He angled the flashlight toward it and immediately, a green arrow was illuminated, pointing down the tunnel.

  “We follow the arrows,” Owen commented, in answer to my question.

  Wordlessly, we all lined up in single file and followed Owen as he led the way.

  The tunnels were dark and eerie, reminding me of the ventilation shafts. At least these were much roomier, so it didn’t feel quite as claustrophobic.

  There was a network of tunnels under Patrus, used to send waste into the river. We had a similar system in Matrus, but supposedly ours was more efficient. I had no idea if it was true, I just knew that being down here was disgusting and I was more than looking forward to getting out.

  “So, uh, how long will we be down here?” I asked.

  “Who knows?” Quinn replied. “Apparently Thomas likes to move every few missions, so it can take a little while to find him.”

  “Who’s Thomas?”

  “Thomas is our eyes and ears inside Patrus,” answered Solomon. “He’s Patrian-born but hates the regime and what they stand for.”