Beyond Jealousy (24 page)

Dallas's smile turned fixed. "That would be a surprise, unless Liam Riley happens to own the place. But I imagine his crowd and your crowd don't exactly mix."

"We travel in different circles," Jared agreed. "I was intrigued, so I dropped by the place the other night. The booze they're serving
definitely
didn't come from your barrels."

"Well, fuck." Dallas snapped his lighter shut, his cigarette unlit. "Someone's getting real damn cocky."

"Indeed." Jared shrugged one shoulder. "I suppose one could utilize a little judicious surveillance in order to find out where the shipments originate. If one were so inclined."

"I'm sure one could," Dallas replied easily. "And if it led to something, I'd owe you one hell of a favor. Unless you've reevaluated the sales pitch since the last time Lex dropped it on you."

In his more contemplative moments, he considered it. Joining up with the O'Kanes would ostensibly provide him with a place to belong, something he hadn't had since Eladio had died, and he and Ace and Gia had gone their separate ways.

But it wasn't quite that simple. He'd have to change his entire lifestyle, give up his work, and he wasn't sure he was cut out to trade satin sheets for switchblades. Life in the sector gangs was rough, and he'd had it way too damn easy for way too damn long not to hesitate.

So he deflected. "It's a generous offer. One I'm still mulling over."

Dallas watched him for a few seconds before leaning back to snag a bottle and two glasses off the shelf. "One of the first of Nessa's special batches," he explained as he poured two fingers' width into each glass. "She was fourteen when she barreled this. It should have been a hot mess, not one of the best damn things I've ever tasted."

Jared accepted a glass. "The girl has skills. That much is undeniable." She produced smooth liquor, and she took the time to do it right, instead of loading her raw alcohol with colors and additives to approximate the flavor proper aging would have imparted.

"Her grandfather taught us both. I'm good. But she lives and breathes it." Dallas swirled the amber liquid in his glass and smiled. "Have you met Ford?"

"Haven't had the pleasure."

"He used to work in Sector Eight, pretty tight with Jim. But Jim didn't like his brains. He was afraid Ford might get
too
ambitious." Dallas took a sip of his drink and studied Jared. "Me? I think everyone's got their skills. And the more things change, the more we need men with different skills. I don't need another Ace, or another Jas. I need someone like Ford. Someone who can do shit the rest of us can't."

Jared barely managed to suppress a snort. "Like charm the French silk panties right off a politician's chatty wife?"

Dallas snorted. "I said shit we
can't
do. Plenty of sweet Eden girls like a bad boy. You know what they don't like?" He waved his glass in the air. "Thinking they're drinking the same shit as the unwashed masses. You think the liquor she barreled at fourteen is good? It's only getting better. Ford says we're wasting opportunities now."

The rest of the goddamn world wanted power, control...and Dallas O'Kane wanted the rich bitches' money. "You're an odd bird, O'Kane. I just want you to know that."

Dallas grinned. "Think about it. I figure I gotta make the hard sell myself this time, since Ace won't be climbing out from between Rachel and Cruz anytime soon."

Truer words had never been spoken. Jared had stopped off to see his friend before his meeting with Dallas, but he was nowhere to be found. "I'm happy for him. This is what he wanted."

Dallas clinked his glass against Jared's. "Wanna be real happy? Come to the next party and watch the three of them fuck."

One thing he had to admit--the up side to being an O'Kane was pretty goddamn far up. "A word of advice, if I may," Jared murmured. "Next time you want to sell me on joining your little organization? Lead with that."

It wasn't often that Six, Rachel, and Trix all had the night off from the Broken Circle. So when Trix invited her to dinner, Rachel jumped at the chance to spend a little time with her friends outside of work.

They ate at a small stand at the edge of the market district, enjoying their meal under a sky full of stars. A hot wind blowing from the south had turned the night unseasonably warm, and they lingered not only over dinner, but also during their walk back to the compound.

"I'm just asking, how big is big?"

Rachel covered her reddening cheeks with both hands. "I'm not going to answer that."

Six kicked an empty tin can out of their path and glanced at Trix. "She'll be as red as your hair if you keep going."

"It's a valid question," Trix protested with a grin. "Especially since some of us missed the show the other night."

Remembering what happened the night that Ace and Cruz had collared her made Rachel blush even harder. She toyed with the ribboned chain dangling from it, weaving it between her fingers as she recalled Ace's promise--or warning.

The only thing that'll get you off harder than this is when we do it to you at Dallas's next party.

She cleared her throat. "If you're so interested in Cruz's dick, I'm sure you'll get another chance to see it. Soon."

"Hallelujah." Trix looped an arm around her shoulders and leaned in for a conspiratorial whisper. "That man is too delicious to keep to yourself."

Six booted another can, and she was blushing now, too. Probably remembering another show, the one Rachel had put on with Dallas and Lex, the first time she'd thrown herself into the midst of true, unadulterated O'Kane sexuality. But she caught Rachel's gaze and grinned. "Forget about his dick, Trix. You really want to be jealous? Those Special Tasks guys have stamina."

Trix let her head fall back with a groan. "That might be the one thing I miss about Sector Five. The guys there were on some goddamn crazy stuff."

"What, like drugs?" Six's brow furrowed. "Since when do those make a guy fuck
better
?"

Trix said something in reply, but Rachel didn't hear her. A prickle of awareness raised the fine hair on the back of her neck, and she turned.

A van was idling on the street at the end of the alley, its windows blacked out by tint or paint. Something tugged at the edges of her consciousness, something
wrong
--

Not idling--in gear and waiting. She registered the engaged brake lights a moment before the side door opened, and three men jumped out.

Shit.

A voice echoed her thought. Six, sounding pissed as she spun to stand shoulder to shoulder with Rachel, heavy brass knuckles already glinting on her fist. "This damn sector's making me soft. I should have brought a gun."

"Bastards. They're going to regret this." Trix followed the words with another curse, her low voice almost eclipsing the vicious sound of her switchblade sliding open.

Rachel felt naked beside them, unarmed and unprepared. But she'd grown up in the dark corners of Eden, in rough places the city barely acknowledged. Street brawls were common, and she'd always held her own.

Her father had taught her a lot of things, but only after he'd taught her how to fight.

The men spread out, blocking one end of the alley, relaxed and cocky as only bullies could be when faced with presumably easy prey. Six spun abruptly and let out another string of curses. "Two more behind us."

No time to look. One of the men from the van lunged at Trix, grabbing for her wrist, and she lashed out, slicing his arm with a snarl. He didn't release her, so Rachel snatched up a rough, broken board leaning against the building beside them and swung it at the man's head. It connected with a sickening, splintering crunch, and he crumpled to the ground.

Another crack sounded behind Rachel, a thud followed by a bellow of pain as a man went flying past her, stumbling into one of his companions. The guy still standing in front of the van snarled and kicked them out of his way as he advanced on Trix. "I'll get this one. You get up and grab the damn blonde! And don't fuck her up--she needs to be alive."

The blood drained from Rachel's face, and she backed away instinctively. If they were after
her
, Christ only knew what they wanted. It could be a dig at Dallas or her father, and there was no way in hell she'd let either happen.

She almost tripped over the man Trix had cut. Blood flowed from his head, but the back of his waistband drew her attention. His shirt had ridden up, revealing the pistol tucked into his pants.

Rachel snatched it up and fired at the man going after Trix. The bullet tore into the right side of his chest, sending him staggering back with shock blooming on his features as he clutched his wound. One of the two remaining men bellowed a curse and lunged toward Rachel from the side. Six appeared out of nowhere, slamming into him hard enough to send them both sprawling.

With their easy prey turned vicious and the leader staggering, the remaining upright attacker whirled and bolted for the van.

Trix ran down the alley after him, pausing only to snatch up a broken brick. She threw it at the van, where it smashed against the driver's side window with enough force to shatter the safety glass into a haze of webbed cracks. "Hey! Get back here and take your street trash with you, motherfucker!"

Six rose from the still body beneath her and scrambled over to the man Rachel had shot. She shoved both hands to his chest, but the blood pumping from his wound had already slowed. "Shit. I didn't mean to kill that last guy, and this one's toast, too. Having someone to drag back to Cruz and Bren would have been useful."

"I don't know if it would have done much good," Rachel told her numbly. They had come after her, and there were precious few reasons anyone would risk that. "Do you recognize them?"

"Maybe." Six stood and wiped her bloody hands on her jeans. Several steps took her to the man Trix had stabbed, the one Rachel had hit with the splintered board. She turned him over with her boot and squinted down at his face. "There's something familiar about this one, but that doesn't mean much. Guys in Three will hire out to anyone with cash."

Rachel shivered, even in her lined jacket, and rubbed her hands over her upper arms. "Let's get the fuck out of here before the guy comes back with reinforcements. Dallas will want to know about this."

"And he'll want us all locked down." Six wrapped an arm around Rachel, squeezing her shoulders. "You okay?"

Not remotely. As a Riley, she could take care of herself, but she didn't have to like the violence. She never would. Her stomach roiled, and she crossed her arms over her midsection. "I want to go home."

Trix finished checking the final man's pockets. "He's got nothing. None of them do." She looked around the alley with a sigh. "You think it's related to the bootlegging?"

"Could be," Six replied, keeping her arm tight around Rachel. "Or it could just be random. People are poking at the edges, trying to see if Dallas is paying attention. Like those kids who robbed Ford's new assistant. Some people are just bad. The second they can't feel your boot on their neck, they act up."

It was more words than Rachel had ever heard Six say at once, maybe ever, and it tipped her hand. She was nervous, too. They all were, and for good reason.

Six might have been nervous, but she also spoke the truth. The attack could've come from anywhere.

Before Noah Lennox, Cruz had been confident he knew every way in and out of Eden.

Lord, had he been wrong.

The tunnels that ran beneath the city and out into the sectors were kept secret from most of the inhabitants on both sides of the wall. The military police knew of their existence, of course, and the Special Tasks teams were intimately familiar with them. Teams like the one Cruz and Bren had once belonged to used them to ghost in and out of the city, invisible to the people whose lives and well-being they were supposedly working to secure.

But the tunnels were even more extensive than Cruz had realized, and Noah knew how to access areas marked
incomplete
on every map they'd ever seen.

"My grandfather's work," the hacker admitted as he used a handheld tablet to descramble the lock on a door Cruz had walked by a dozen times without really seeing. Noah had revealed an access panel by prying away a plate that blended almost seamlessly with the whitewashed cement wall, and the door itself was only outlined by a faint shadow--one of many in the poorly lit tunnels.

It whispered open on a silent mechanism once the code was complete. It was dark on the other side, and Cruz held up a flashlight as Bren guarded their backs. "Your grandfather?"

"Mmm." Noah unhooked his tablet and slid the panel back into place. "He helped design the city's networking, back when it was supposed to be utopia. Before the military--"

He cut off abruptly with a wary look Cruz's way. If Noah had access to Eden's files, he'd know where Cruz had come from. He might even think he understood what it meant to be from the Base.

No one understood. No one could, not even Bren. "Before the military took it," he finished quietly. Not that the General had ever framed it quite like that--rescuing an important resource from the chaotic panic of civilians sounded far more inspiring than outright theft. "I know what happened."