Authors: Kit Rocha
It had always been bullshit, but now he couldn't pretend anymore. Not when he'd already shifted his allegiance once. "I respect what O'Kane's trying to do. I'm his man, as long as he keeps trying to do it."
"But you still have
Eden
written all over you, and that matters to Liam," Coop said matter-of-factly as he opened the hidden panel beside the door and keyed in the code to open it. "He busted his ass, you know. Scrounged out a tiny little empire from nothing, and he always thought Rachel was his ticket to taking it legit. Plans change, but expectations die hard."
Cruz frowned as he followed Coop into the narrow hallway. The only way Rachel could have changed her father's fortunes was by marrying someone with power and influence. Someone who had to follow all of Eden's rules on the surface, which meant chilly, sterile perfection. No love, no pleasure, no affection.
He could barely imagine her surviving it, much less enjoying it, but maybe that was love again. Howard could lose his job or his freedom for letting Cruz into the city. Rachel might well have married some cold-blooded bastard and died a little inside every day if it meant protecting the people she loved.
But the people who loved
her
shouldn't have been willing to let her.
Coop clapped him on the back. "Don't look so down. Rachel's got a good head on her shoulders. She's not gonna fall for the line of shit. She'll go her own way, always has."
Cruz managed a smile. "Sounds like her, yeah."
Grinning, Coop led him into the living room. "No reason we can't win you some points. I'll tell Liam you'd be happy to watch Rachel's back, free of charge."
It had been too long since he'd stood in this room. There was a comfort to it, something almost like home. Sinking down into one of the worn chairs felt like putting down a burden...or at least being able to share it. "You could do that. It'd be true enough."
"Done. And the rest is between you and me."
"The rest." Cruz closed his eyes and leaned his head back. There was no good place to start, because everything felt so raw and fragile. If Coop recoiled from the revelation that his involvement wasn't only with Rachel...
Cruz sighed. "Can I ask you a question? A personal one?"
Coop bent with a grunt to fetch two cold beers from the tiny refrigerator behind his chair. "Shoot."
"Why are you still in Eden? With all the help you've given people, you could live well in the sectors."
"And what, retire?" Coop chortled and passed him a beer. "I've got plenty left to do. And Tammy's here. I'm not sure I could get her to cross the wall with me."
Tammy was young compared to Cooper, Cruz's age or a little older, and as far as he knew, the two were still living the chaste, companionable life of a housekeeper and her employer. But Coop had been sweet on Tammy forever, and as long as she resisted the sectors, there was no power on either side of the wall that would make him abandon her.
Tammy was a believer. Not like the men who ran Eden and mouthed empty words about sin and a God they barely credited. She had faith, both in the rules and in her own unshakable moral code--a code Cruz had violated in half a dozen ways last night between kissing Rachel and jerking Ace off.
At
least
half a dozen. "She wouldn't like the sectors much, would she?"
"Oh, I don't know. She might, once she got used to it." He tilted his head. "Why?"
Cruz rubbed a hand over his face. "Maybe I'm just...getting used to it. Doing things I never would have expected."
Coop raised his eyebrows as he cracked open his beer. "Waiting on me to judge you for it, is that it?"
"Don't you think someone should?"
"Nope. But I'm starting to think you do." He leaned forward and braced his elbows on his knees. "What's really bothering you, Lorenzo?"
Cruz reached for his beer and drained half of it, but it only made him think of the first time he'd kissed Rachel. He'd just won his first fight, and she'd dragged him up to the roof. He'd kissed her with the taste of beer on his tongue and promised himself he'd treat her gently, softly.
Right.
Except he hadn't known what
right
was. "Do you believe in all the sins they taught us?"
That knowing gaze sharpened. "The sex stuff? Nah, it's bullshit."
"I know the Council doesn't believe it or even live by it, but that doesn't mean--" Cruz clenched his hands. "I crossed the one line you
never
cross, Coop. And I'm not talking about Rachel."
"What line?"
The line that got men killed. A Special Tasks team could grow as close as the O'Kanes in some ways, but feelings deeper than trust and brotherhood were a distraction and a liability. Fucking your teammates was against the rules, and it went double for your partner. "I fraternized."
Coop paused with his beer halfway to his mouth. "Dangerous game. Makes it hard to do your job."
The proof of his words lay in the tender length of skin over Cruz's ribs. Med-gel wasn't as perfect as regen technology, but the faint scar from last night's lapse in judgment was already fading. Too bad it couldn't take his fear with it--or the memory of those three terrifying seconds when he'd seen a bruiser twice Ace's size coming up behind him with a knife and hadn't paid attention to his own surroundings.
Ace had shot the guy in the face without blinking, and Cruz had barely gotten his head back into the fight in time to avoid a gut wound. "I know."
"What does O'Kane have to say about it?" Coop asked. "It's his army, after all, and he's your CO now."
Cruz choked on a laugh that felt desperate, even to him. "O'Kane's a big fucking fan of fraternization. You have no fucking
idea
, Coop."
"You got no worries, then." He paused. "Or do you?"
"Not enough of them to stop me, I guess." And those were the truest damn words to come out of his mouth. Appealing to Coop was a last-ditch effort, a desperate attempt to make the man step down hard on him until he could figure out how to put on the brakes.
But there
were
no brakes on this ride. Just the adrenaline rush and the pleasure before they skidded off the cliff all three of them could see.
Coop smiled almost wistfully. "When you're as old as me, it's hard to remember what it's like, the first time you open up and really start to
feel
. Scary. It gets better--or worse. Hell, I don't know. But the world doesn't end, Lorenzo."
"It already did that," Cruz agreed. "I'll manage. I'm living a damn soft life these days, all things considered."
"Mmm." Coop polished off his beer and waved the empty bottle. "You want another?"
The back of his neck itched. Cruz was opening his mouth to mention it when he heard the slight creak of a floorboard followed by the whisper of fabric. He was on his feet in the next heartbeat, reaching for his knife by the time a familiar voice drifted in from the hallway. "Stand down, soldier."
Cruz let his hand drop as Ashwin Malhotra stepped into the doorway. The new head of Special Tasks was only a few inches shorter than Cruz but built like Bren--solid and unmovable. He had dark hair with surprisingly light eyes, along with skin almost the same brown as Cruz's own. But the stern, emotionless expression Cruz often struggled to maintain sat naturally on Ashwin's sharp features.
It should. He was a part of the Makhai Project, the most elite soldiers the Base had ever turned out. The Base had taken Cruz from his crib to train, but they'd taken Ashwin to a lab, where genetic drug therapy and endless surgeries had turned out the perfect emotionless warrior.
He wasn't constrained by feelings like guilt or empathy. Mercy. He cared about logic, his mission, and the personal code of ethics shaped out of the space where the two intersected. The fact that he considered Cruz a friend and ally was useful, but Cruz wasn't stupid enough to imagine things could never change.
Cruz nodded in greeting before sinking back into his chair. "Good to see you, Ashwin."
The man ignored the greeting and offered no pleasantries in return. "I have information for O'Kane."
"All right."
"Some of the bootleg liquor he's been tracking has turned up in the city."
A chill snuck over Cruz. Bootlegging the shit was ballsy enough, but bringing it into the city was dangerous--and not just to the idiots doing it. If Liam Riley decided Dallas was going behind his back and dealing with another distributor, things could get ugly real fast--assuming the move didn't bring Eden's wrath down on Sector Four.
Ashwin was still watching him, unblinking, so Cruz nodded his understanding. "Any other pertinent details?"
Ashwin finally looked away, his gaze tracking over the room. "I'll run it down if I can do it quietly, find out who's behind it. But if O'Kane figures out how they're getting it in, that's just as good."
"I'll pass it along." Cruz hesitated, hyperaware of the ink wrapped around his wrists and the promise it entailed. Dallas trusted Cruz to keep O'Kane secrets while trading for intel, but he probably had no idea just how highly placed--and dangerous--Cruz's contact was. "Anything you need to know?"
Ashwin spared a quick smile for Coop, then nodded. "What are O'Kane's plans for Sector Three?"
"Short term? Cleaning it the hell up."
"Long term," Ashwin corrected. "Someone's been talking to the Council. Hinting that your new boss might be planning to rebuild the factories in Three."
Not too difficult to draw the lines there. Mac Fleming ran the Sector Five factories that produced drugs--medical and recreational--while Jim Jernigan had a chokehold on all other manufacturing in Sector Eight.
Both had necessary relationships with Eden, but only one possessed the subtlety to hint instead of accuse. "Jernigan has nothing to worry about. Dallas is interested in expanding Four's current businesses, not dumping money into infrastructure that won't pay out for years."
"If he did, the Council would move on him. Fair warning."
"Understood."
The man vanished without another word, and Coop shuddered. "Makhai. Freaks my shit out."
Cruz had grown up on the Base with them, sometimes working and training alongside them, and he couldn't disagree. "They should. Ashwin's pretty much as personable as they get."
"I believe it."
The front door rattled open, followed by Tammy's cheerful greeting, and Cruz grabbed at the chance to change the topic. "I heard she moved into the spare bedroom."
The old man's cheeks reddened. "Spare bedroom is right. Didn't make sense for her to keep paying for another place, not when I have plenty of room."
And not when the shadier parts of Eden were getting more and more dangerous for a woman living on her own. After all, Ashwin Malhotra had gotten his new gig after the previous head of Special Tasks was caught kidnapping Eden's poor to sell as forced labor. No doubt Coop slept better knowing Tammy was safe under his roof.
Which didn't make pestering him any less fun. Cruz grinned as Tammy clattered around in the kitchen, the noise loud enough to cover his teasing whisper. "I'm sure your intentions are honorable."
Coop's smile softened his harsh reply. "Fuck you, Lorenzo."
No, Cooper's intentions weren't innocent, but Cruz was all out of stones. Dark or not,
wrong
or not, all he wanted was to get back to Sector Four, to Ace and Rachel. Back to the moment where they were naked and open and
his
.
Fuck the brakes. If it was too late to stop, all that was left was to see how fast and far they could go.
She had always been comfortable in the distillery, with its shining copper and steel pots and its familiar smells. It reminded her of home. Maybe that was why Dallas had let her carve out a corner of it as her own, even though the beer she produced wasn't distributed and didn't pull in a fraction of the revenue earned by Nessa's barrels of delicately aged whiskey.
Rachel counted on brewing to help center her. She'd been handling the grains, yeasts, and fragrant hops for years, and experience left her plenty of room for distraction. So she relaxed enough to let half her brain focus on what had happened with Ace and Cruz--
No panic assailed her, none of the worry or second-guessing she'd expected in the cold light of day, only the pleasant ache she carried with her like a secret.
Rachel lifted the lid of her mash tun and smiled at the earthy steam rising from the bubbling mixture. Part summer wheat, part caramel malt, raised by a man out in the communes just for her. Not even her father could get it. This batch would be light, almost sweet, nothing like the darker brews Dallas preferred.
But she was working on that, too. She checked the fermenter next, climbing the short wooden ladder to peer in at the steeping liquid. Its gentle bubbling had slowed, so she grinned and called out, "Hey, Nessa! You get the stuff I asked you for?"
"Yup, just a sec!" A clatter came from the far side of the room seconds before Nessa popped out of the room she'd claimed as an office. "I had a couple bottles left from the summer we got too much corn. It's a little more sugary than our usual bourbon, but it should work for your recipe."
"Thanks." Rachel took the bottle and rattled it. "Oak chips?"
"Yup. Put 'em in the day after you asked."
"Sweet." The oak would enhance the flavor of the bourbon enough to offset the vanilla and chocolate. "Happy birthday, Jasper."
"He's gonna love it." Nessa picked up one of the empty bottles she'd collected. "Maybe Ace would make a label for it. He does it for my small runs sometimes, so I can trade them to Eden."
Rachel's cheeks grew hot. Of course Nessa hadn't heard, because she spent most of her time holed up in the distillery. "I'll ask him."
"You can charge as much for the packaging as--" Nessa turned back to her and stopped abruptly. Her eyes narrowed. "Oh my God, what happened? What did I miss? No one tells me anything!"
"What? Nothing. We're working some stuff out, is all."
"Yeah, whatever. Last time you turned that pink, you'd been all up in between Lex and Dallas in the porn adventure of the century. A good friend would let me live vicariously."