Alphas After Dark (9 Book Bundle of Sexy Alpha Biker Bad Boys)

by Vivian Arend

  “Very good. Maybe you can help me, after all.”

  Yes, sometimes girls have brains, too. She bit her lip against the words, because there was no point in them. A woman didn’t get to tell a man she was smart. She had to prove she was smart, and then prove it wasn’t a fluke, and God help her if she seemed proud of her accomplishments.

  A clever woman convinces a man her idea has merit. An Orchid convinces a man her idea was his all along.

  She’d only been free of Sector Two for three weeks. Too soon for a lifetime of lessons to slip away, but she hoped her trainer’s voice went first. All those lessons cautioning her not to be too bright, too eager, too open, too real...

  Fuck the lessons. By the time she was done tearing through Derek Ford’s life, he wouldn’t know how he’d ever made it a day without her. She could reach as high as she wanted here—Lex was proof of that. She’d fled Orchid House, had worked her way up to stand as Dallas O’Kane’s partner and the queen of Sector Four.

  Mia didn’t need to be royalty, but she would damn sure have Ford’s respect by the end of the month. And maybe warm water and steady electricity, too.

  And a damn hair dryer.

  CHAPTER THREE

  He had to hand it to her, the girl was doing a damn good job.

  It had taken her only an hour or so to go through the files, sort them, and begin scanning them into the system Noah had already programmed. Of course, she’d raised an eyebrow at the sight of the optical character recognition scanner, and it was plain to see that kind of tech was the last thing she’d expected to find in Sector Four.

  It was unsettling to discover how much he delighted in surprising her.

  She was frowning now, dragging her finger down a shipment inventory list. “It’s more complicated than I realized. I’ve been trying to reconcile a pattern in which grains you get in what quantities and when, but it seems completely random.”

  “Supply and demand, buttercup. We have to take deals when we can get them. Plus, I never know what Nessa will need for her smaller batches.”

  Mia twisted to reach for the tablet she’d commandeered. The hem of her sweater hiked up, baring a glimpse of luscious skin. “I saw something about those. A rebranding plan?”

  He averted his gaze. “More like extending the O’Kane brand. Nessa’s been developing some special liquors—older ones, aging in special casks, that sort of thing. No way could she make enough to meet general demand, and no way could some asshole off the street pay for it. But there’s always someone who will, if only so he can show everyone else how much better he is.”

  She made an amused little noise. “So, most of the men in Sector Two.”

  “Not just Two.” He hesitated, then forged ahead. She might as well know. “Other sectors, as well. Eight, for example. That’s where I’m from.”

  “Oh?” Her gaze flicked up to his. “Did you work at one of the factories?”

  “Not exactly. I worked for Jim Jernigan.”

  “So you’ve always been an important man.” Her full lips tugged up. “That explains a lot.”

  “I wasn’t important enough to keep around.” But important enough to get rid of. One thing hadn’t changed over the years, and that was Jernigan’s ruthless pragmatism. Smart men were useful…up to a point.

  O’Kane was different. He didn’t throw people away out of fear or boredom, and suddenly Ford needed her to know that.

  Except he didn’t know how to say it, so he said nothing.

  She tilted her head, her smile fading. “I never met Jernigan. Vau—my patron, he wasn’t prominent enough to be meeting with sector heads, or even the more reputable communes. Which is probably for the best now.”

  “Because he can’t come get you?”

  “I don’t think he would, unless he wanted a refund.” She wrinkled her nose and stared down at the tablet. “But if he had more influence, he might send people after me. Or get my House to do it.”

  For a moment, she looked lost, and Ford steeled himself against the urge to comfort her. “You’re in Sector Four now. Dallas is king here.”

  “And Lex is queen.” Mia spoke the name with a reverence that probably would have made Lex laugh. But it seemed to bolster her confidence as she reached for the scanner. “Just the same, if anyone comes looking for me, maybe you could say you’ve never heard of me?”

  It was a joke, but it wasn’t funny. “You work for the O’Kanes. Surely you’ve seen how things run by now. You’re protected.”

  Her gaze jumped to the thermos, where it sat abandoned on the edge of his desk with her forgotten breakfast. “Lex didn’t really explain. If something happens...”

  “If someone hassles you, you mean?” The mere thought made his hands clench into fists.

  “I’m not a martyr, but I’m not helpless either. I can handle a little hassle. But if it’s serious, should I tell someone?”

  If it was serious, she shouldn’t have to. Ford made a mental note to ask around. “Lex can handle it. Or you can come to me.”

  She nodded and changed the subject as she initiated the next scan. “I could get through all of these if I stay late tonight. Do you mind?”

  “Not a good idea, unless you’re willing to have someone escort you home.”

  Her lips pressed together, but he couldn’t decipher her expression. “Tomorrow, then. If you can spare a tablet, I’ll proof the extracted data tonight instead.”

  She probably wanted to spare his lame ass the trek across the sector. Or, worse, she considered him piss-poor personal protection against whatever threats might await her. “It wouldn’t be me,” he offered. “We can get one of the bouncers in the club. Zan, maybe.”

  “No, it’s okay. Maybe I’ll find a place closer to the compound, so no one will have to worry about walking me.” She tossed him another bright, cheerful smile, so out of place in the sectors. “Now that I know the landlords won’t cheat me if I tell them who I work for.”

  It was none of his business. Ford repeated the refrain as he gathered some of the completed documents and rose. His leg ached, stiff and sore from sitting for too long, and he gritted his teeth as he braced one arm on the desk.

  She hopped to her feet and swept up another stack. “Here, I can take those. It’ll be good practice.”

  “I’ve got it,” he barked.

  Mia stared him down for a few seconds, worrying at her lower lip with her teeth. “Lex said you were in an accident.”

  Ford squeezed his eyes shut. None of it seemed real, even weeks after the fact. The screech of metal, the blazing pain. The long, delirious hours spent drifting in and out of consciousness through the blazing heat of day and the chill of night.

  The blood.

  “There’s not much to tell,” he heard himself say calmly. “Crashed my bike, broke my leg. By the time I made my way back to town, infection had set in. That’s it, the whole tragic fucking story. Anything else you want to know?”

  Her eyes had gone wide. “You walked back?”

  The way she was looking at him made him shift uncomfortably. “What else was I supposed to do, lie there and die?”

  “No, but...” She shivered. “That’s incredible. Not that you tried. That you made it. I understand going down fighting, but most of us don’t get back up.”

  It was the perfect opportunity to take advantage of her starry expression. He could spin it out like a yarn, boast about how easy it had been. How it was nothing for a hero like him.

  Instead, harsh words came. “It was hell. Sometimes, I’m still not sure why I bothered.”

  “Because it gets better.”

  She said it with such hope, and Ford opened his mouth to agree with her. But what came out was anything but comforting. “Not always, buttercup. Lesson number one in the sectors—sometimes what’s broken stays broken.”

  The light went out of her.

  Not all at once. He had to watch it die in stages, her eyes dulling, her shoulders slumping. She finally looked away and extended he
r hand to him blindly. “I’ll file the papers.”

  “Fine.” Guilt sharpened his tone. “Suit yourself.”

  No reply. She took the work from him and moved to the filing cabinets in silence. She’d been yammering constantly since her arrival, but no more. Now she was stony. Cold.

  Well, what do you expect, jackass? She’d been looking for a little hope, and he’d crushed it ruthlessly under his boot. Never mind that he’d been talking about himself, not her. The end result was the same.

  But apologizing was out of the question, because she might start thinking he gave a damn. So he kept his mouth shut and hobbled off, leaving her to her work.

  Mia hadn’t realized how fragile her grip on hope was until Ford sent it spinning away.

  The dreary trudge back to her apartment took forever, and she noticed everything. The garbage in the streets, the menace of strangers watching from the growing shadows, even the bitter wind slicing through the spots where her jacket was worn thin. Small blessing that only a few men had gathered around the trash-fire in front of her apartment, and they all seemed too intent on the flask they were passing around to call lewd suggestions to her.

  Her adventure had gone sour, and she would make Derek Ford pay for stealing it from her.

  Tomorrow.

  As if to add insult to injury, the power flickered as she reached the second floor. It cast the hallway into near-darkness, broken only when the landlady threw open her door. She had power, of course, undoubtedly supplied by the generator humming in the background.

  Bracing herself for another battle over rent, Mia stepped into the rectangle of light. “Mrs. Jones.”

  “Mia.” Gone was the woman’s customary derisive glare. She kept her gaze downcast, deferential. “You had a delivery today.”

  Mia had almost forgotten how true terror felt. Like ice in her guts while her nerves misfired, seizing every muscle with the animal instinct to run, to flee for her fucking life. But she hadn’t forgotten how to hide it. Her smile felt brittle as she lifted one brow in a poor imitation of curiosity. “Oh? I wasn’t expecting anything.”

  “I let him put it in your apartment. One of O’Kane’s men, it was.”

  Oxygen returned. Exhaling roughly, Mia forced her muscles to relax. Not that it wasn’t unsettling to realize her landlady would let anyone wearing O’Kane ink into an apartment that was supposed to be private...

  But it could have been worse. It could have been so much worse.

  “I’m sure that’s fine, then,” she said, digging her keys out of her pocket. “I’m sorry if they put you out.”

  “It’s no bother,” the old lady protested. “You tell them anyone is welcome to stop by. Any time, okay? I’ve got nothing to hide here.”

  Caught in the awkward position of comforting a woman who’d been haranguing her twenty-four hours earlier, Mia managed a barely believable pat on the arm...and took shameless advantage of her new status. “I’ll let him know,” she promised, careful not to indicate who he might be. Let the old bat imagine she sat down to morning tea with Dallas O’Kane.

  At least it would keep her rent low.

  “You do that. And, uh, let me know if there’s anything you need.”

  The woman was following her down the hallway, so eager to please, and Mia was beginning to understand why Ford had seemed so outraged at the suggestion that someone would hassle an employee of the O’Kanes. Unless excessive obsequiousness counted as hassle.

  She shoved the key into the sticky lock and wiggled it until the deadbolt released. “I will, Mrs. Jones. Have a good night.”

  “You too, Mia. And remember what I said about—”

  Mia closed the door and only felt a little guilty about it.

  The light from her one barred window had already faded, but hopefully there had been plenty of sunlight during the day. She traversed the room carefully, catching up her unlit lantern on her way past the table.

  Her most valuable possession—a tiny solar recharger—lay on the windowsill. Not a very nice one, since it took a full day of strong sunlight to power her lantern for a few hours, but it was better than spending her night in the dark.

  She fit the battery into place by touch and was rewarded with a bright, cheerful spill of light. Her apartment was so small it reached all but the farthest corners, which meant it didn’t take long to realize what was out of place.

  The “delivery” sat in the corner between her mattress and bathtub, narrow and boxy, with vents on the front, a neat row of buttons...and no power cord. She brushed her finger over the power button and almost yelped in surprise when blessedly warm air gusted over her.

  One of O’Kane’s men had shown up, bullied his way past her terrified landlady, and left her a battery-powered space heater.

  Utterly perplexed, she picked up the folded piece of paper resting on the top.

  The battery should last twelve hours on high power. You can recharge it at work.

  No signature, but she’d been digging through paperwork filled out by Ford all day. It was his handwriting, sparse and neat and abrupt, just like him. A peace offering of his own, maybe, or an easy way of buying out of his guilt at being such an asshole.

  Or maybe he really hated wet hair.

  “Too bad, Derek Ford,” she muttered, dragging the heater closer to her bed. Talking to herself wasn’t a good sign, but the gift was. It meant there was something under all that pain and bitterness, even if Ford couldn’t see it himself. Something she could find if she pushed hard enough, something she could make him remember.

  He was wounded, lashing out at anyone who witnessed his moments of supposed weakness, as if someone who’d walked a dozen miles on a broken leg could be weak. God must have put men on the Earth with a surplus of social advantages because it was their only hope of surviving their incapacitating egos.

  She was a damn Orchid. Not exactly an accomplished one, but even the rawest initiate ate delicate male ego for breakfast. Starting tomorrow, she would embrace the stubbornness that had gotten her this far, as well as the skills that had kept her alive.

  Derek Ford could be as hopeless as he wanted. She’d fucking well hope enough for the both of them.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  The damn man never had any good news.

  Dylan Jordan slipped on a pair of glasses and peered down at the open folder in front of him. By the time he raised his head, he wore an expression of utter disgust. “I don’t care what the hell you want, Ford, we can’t try the regeneration therapy again. With infections like yours—”

  “I understand all that,” Ford replied. “But you said my infection was under control. No fevers, no nothing. My wounds are all healed.”

  “That’s not the only reason we can’t do it. Look, I could explain it all to you, but it’s complicated and you really don’t give a shit about the particulars. You only care if it works, right?”

  Ford couldn’t argue. “So I’m stuck, then. Med-gel isn’t an option, and neither is regen.”

  “But you’re healing,” the man said with uncharacteristic gentleness. “You’re healing the way people did for thousands of years before we had this technology. Slowly but surely.”

  It takes time. “I know, I know. It’s just…”

  “Hard, yeah.” Doc hesitated. “I’m sorry. Truly, I am.”

  A knock rattled the door, mere seconds before one of the newer girls, Jade, stuck her head inside. Doc straightened at the sight of her, abruptly dragging his spectacles from his face.

  Ford rolled his eyes. “What’s up, Jade?”

  She was the sort of gorgeous that didn’t seem quite real, like one of the pre-Flare paintings Ace collected in his studio. Her voice was warm and breathy, and all for Doc. “Dylan, I didn’t realize you were here.”

  “I, uh, came by to see Ford. And I was just leaving.” He rose and gathered his bag from the floor beside his chair, then leveled a serious gaze on Ford. “If you need anything…”

  “I’ll be fine, Doc. See you ne
xt week.”

  Jade murmured her goodbyes, watching until the door swung shut behind the doctor. When she turned back to Ford, he didn’t get the sweet, honeyed smiles and gentle whispers.

  No, he got hands on the hips and a disapproving frown. “You vex him, you know.”

  “Vex?” The word almost made him laugh. “We can’t have that, can we? Not when you’re so sweet on him.”

  “You’re very good at deflection. I’m not surprised you’re so successful in business.”

  “You’re a sweet talker, Jade.” Ford leaned back in his chair and held his hands out wide. “So, what can I do for you?”

  She relented, giving the folding chair a dubious look before sinking gracefully onto it. “I came to see how Mia was settling in.”

  “Fine.” He couldn’t keep the slight tinge of defensiveness from his voice, and he damned himself for it. The woman sitting across his desk was from Sector Two, same as Mia—same as Lex—and she would hear every word he didn’t say.

  Sure enough, she studied him for a silent moment before tilting her head. “That’s good. You have no idea how relieved I was when I heard she’d reached out for help. She was always such a smart girl, utterly wasted on that...” Her lips pressed together tightly.

  “Her patron wasn’t the most pleasant man, I take it?” Not that Ford cared, obviously. He didn’t.

  Jade seemed to weigh her words. “Lex casts a long shadow over Sector Two,” she said finally. “Especially over Orchid House. Cerys likes girls with brains, but the ones who show too much spirit... Well, she’d rather see them a little broken than have another Lex out here working against her.”

  A chill slithered up his spine. “If that were Mia’s situation, Cerys never would have let her go. I know that much.”

  “You’re assuming Cerys knows she’s gone.” Jade met his gaze squarely. “I may be borrowing trouble, Ford. God knows I have reason to see malice and ill intent in everything Cerys does. She won’t move against Dallas openly, but we both know that doesn’t make Mia safe.”