Page 93 of Drift

Jackson scooped up both. “Now that’s a way back into a man’s cold, dead heart.” He added the three-week cut to the pot on the table, then pocketed the fourth,thenoffered his mug of coffee over. “Second dues of the week. Coffee duty for all staff. Me first, then Keyne. When the cool-down period’s over, you’re also feeding your little thieving ferret feet off for me over with the big boys, all windows nailed shut to stop you drifting. So enjoy the break, then slip into something comfortable when it comes to footwear, because it’s gonna hurt, and Leon will be at the front door each time, checking you over for drugs.”

Jackson looked up at him. “Now fuck off. I’ll have the twins give you a wake-up call to get the first drug’s test underway with them.”

Drift paled. “I’ll pass the sample onto Leon before he clocks off.”

Jackson snorted a smile. “Good boy. See, youcanplay nice.”

“Under threat doesn’t exactly count.”

“Then stay a good lad and don’t make me bring out the threats. See… simple, ain’t it, son?”

“You make me feel it. Simple.” Drift thumbed at the storage room as he fought off a headache. “Mind if I grab some more pain killers. I’m nearly out.”

Jackson eased back, a touch of worry in his eyes. “Sure. Don’t get this close to running out on them again. Your head’s screwed up enough.” He gave a sniff. “But… we’re running low on meds. Get West to have a word with Nugget and get a list of what she needs stocking up.” He seemed to think something over. “West’ll do the run to Jessop’s.”

Drift stiffened. “Not without me.”

“Yeah, without you,” Jackson said flatly. “She has dues to be paid as well, and this one will give you a taste of what you put her through last night.”

Drift felt sick. “She was out with me at my marks. She could have been spotted because they had laser pointer detection installed.”

“Oh.” Jackson tilted his head. “She never told me security was that good.” He held out his hand.

For a moment, Drift didn’t do anything, then he shifted and pulled the rest of his money free, leaving himself fifty pound.

“You’re both grounded, and I’ll take a four-week cut off her because she allowed Brighty to go, who’ll goddamn follow her anywhere. Now get the fuck out of my kitchen. With Jessop’s, I’ll send Newt from over mine at Dorson Road.”

Not wanting to tell West just yet how much money she’d be losing, Drift got Jackson his coffee, then the morning watchers before he pinched the last strip of pain killers marked in his name and made it back up to West’s corner of the loft. Careful not to wake her as he stepped over the sleeping bag, he eventually sat on the bed, running a shaking hand through his hair.

That could have gone so much worse. At least Jackson hadn’t opted for burning his balls.

“I take it he’s grounded our arses?” West sounded sleepy, and it hit with just how long she’d waited up for him in the early hours, that and how Jackson had also just cut her off from earning any money too for a few days.

He tugged a spare pillow from the bed and leaned down to tuck it under her head, wincing at the burn to his arm as hecovered that up too. “I think it’s gonna take me feeding into ten Downing Street just to spike the PM’s coffee with a laxative in order to get back on the rota for his good books.”

A chuckle. “Guy hates politicians. But stream that one for me when you do. Oh, right. You need a phone for that, you asshole.”

Drift winced, so badly. Phones led to access, that led to playlists, that led to personal information, that led right back here, to Brighty, to Jackson, to everything wrapped up in that sleeping bag. “Meds are running low.” Unease bit into his stomach. “He’s sending a feeder to Jessop’s to stock up. You need anything?”

West turned over and looked up at him. “Can you add some Estro?” she whispered quietly.

“You’re nearly out?” he whispered back.

West nodded. She’d been taking Estrogen for two years now. The effects of the feminising hormone were subtle: a slight reduction in muscle mass, a drop in body hair on the jaw, and minor breast development. It gave her more slender curves, but she fought with her weight taking them, in her eyes seeming to put on stones over just breathing around chocolate. Her temper would match the frustration, but… perfect. She was just perfect in Drift’s eyes, with milk-white skin, long red hair and….

Yeah. He’d maybe take that time in the break room. He tugged on his trainers, needing to work the stress out if he was going to be on lock down here, with West. “You need anything else?”

“A Twix? Maybe two.” She slumped back down, an arm going over her face. “Fuck it. Just bribe the feeder’s ass to get me a multipack, yeah?Please.”

She was off chocolate for another reason entirely, and no way was he risking another call to the kitchen off Jackson for getting her even a sniff off the packet. “Anything that won’t get my balls burned?”

A pillow came his way. “Wuss….”

“Hey.” He caught it and tossed it on the bed. “How about I give it twenty-four hours, then find an open window and… take a little trip out?”

“Breaking house rules already, huh?” She looked his way. “All that, for me? Why thank you, kind sir.” She fluttered her eyelids. “Just don’t get caught.” Her smile faded as she focused on his arm.

Giving a frown, she sat up and ran a touch close to it. “Fucking bas—”

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