“Shhh,” Taryn warned. She set the cage on the dresser. It took discipline to not give in to the willies.
The cage held a big rat. One that was fucking huge and creeped her the fuck out. “Yes, it’s a rat,” she said with more calm than she felt, “and he’s going to help us get you free.”
“I don’t have to touch it or anything, do I?” Giselle asked from the safety of the bathroom.
“No. I’m the one who has to touch it.”
“Gross!”
Yeah, that summed up Taryn’s feelings too. Unfortunately, it was the best way she’d found to take care of the chip.
“Take off your bracelet,” she instructed Giselle. “You can do it without contacting him, right?”
Giselle nodded. Her gaze dropped slowly from the rat to her wrist. She slid it carefully over her hand. She held it out to Taryn.
Taryn hid a smile as she took in the distance the girl kept between her and the rat. Taryn opened her hand and the girl dropped the thin band into it.
“I’m going to put the bracelet and this,” she held up the chip, “on it.” Taryn pointed to the rat. “When we let him go, your pimp will be tracking it and not us.”
“Isn’t that dangerous?”
Nowshe was worried about the danger?
“No more than anything else. Plus, it gives us a chance to get away. Get you safe.” She paused. “Any other questions, or are you ready to go?”
“Ready to go, I guess.”
“Great.” Taryn really hated this part. More than once she’d considered using some kind of drone or mechanical rodent, but nothing worked quite as well as the real thing.
She donned reinforced synth-leather gloves and grabbed the rat. It squealed and she was thankful that the music covered the noise.
Her hand wrapped around its torso and she shuddered as it wiggled. Although there was a full thick layer of material between them, it felt like they were skin to skin.
Ugh.
The rat wriggled and squirmed and all Taryn wanted to do was open her hand and let him go. Then wash her hands a million times.
Gripping the rat with her right hand, she slipped Giselle’s bracelet over its head. Then she smeared adhesive on the rat’s coat with her left. Then she grabbed the chip, careful not to damage the small circuitry and carefully, so carefully, she pressed the chip against the adhesive. That earned her a higher-pitched squeal. She startled and the rat bit her. She felt the faint contact even through the thick glove.
“Son of a bitch!”
“Ohmygod! Are you okay?” Giselle raced to her side.
“I’m fine.” She pulled off her gloves to double-check. She stared at her right hand, nearly 100 percent sure that there was no way those little rat teeth could have penetrated the metal. Still, she had to make sure. It was a compulsion she’d never quite broken in the years she’d had the prosthetic arm.
“You... have a metal arm.” Giselle sounded intrigued.
“Yeah.” Though she frequently wore long sleeves that covered it, Taryn didn’t hide it. The molded metal ran from her shoulder joint to the tips of her fingers. She had a good range of motion, fine motor skills, and could throw a helluva punch, but it wasn’t a high-end prosthetic. It was the best she’d been able to afford when she’d needed it.
Taryn tested it a few seconds longer. No feeling, no harm.
“You ready to go?” Her voice was brusque, but the girl stared at her arm in fascination. “We need to get moving.” She packed as efficiently as she had unpacked.
“Um, yeah, sure.”
Taryn scanned the room and ran a mental inventory. Everything but the rat was back in the bag. “You want your other clothes?” she asked Giselle.
“No!”
