by Vivian Arend
Because presentation was everything.
There was nothing new in the thought—she’d had it when Lex had walked in the door. But something inside Mia shifted, and the words looked different from this angle. She’d stared at Lex, aware of everything she represented and painfully aware of her own lack—but only because she wasn’t used to being the one who lacked.
She should have realized. Especially since she was sitting on Ford’s big, soft bed, his smooth sheets a sensuous whisper against her bare legs. O’Kanes like our luxuries. In Sector Two, Lex would have been one of the luxuries, a symbol that lifted the status of the man who owned her. A living reminder to everyone else—this is what you’ll never have.
Lex wasn’t a prize in Sector Four. She was the promise. The proof of how good life could be when you stood beside Dallas O’Kane. Not because you could aspire to have her.
You could aspire to be her.
“I understand,” Mia said softly. “And thank you.”
Lex hesitated. “You good?”
Maybe not yet, but she knew the answer now. She felt it in her bones. “I will be.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Mia looked like an O’Kane.
Ford stood in the office doorway and stared at her as she fluttered busily behind the desk. Her hair was smooth, and she was wearing jeans so tight they appeared to have been painted on, just like the polish on her nails.
Blood thundered in his ears as he closed the door behind him. “You’ve been busy.”
“Hmm?” She glanced up from the tablet she held in one hand and blinked at him. “Oh, the outfit? Lex let me borrow some stuff. And then she took me to meet Nessa, who took me to meet her closet.”
“I meant the...” He gestured to the files and notes covering the desk. “I didn’t figure on you working today.”
“Oh, that.” Mia turned to sweep the scattered papers covering one side into a haphazard pile. “Well, that’s why Lex took me to meet Nessa. That girl knows a lot about liquor.”
“She should. She makes it.” The shirt Mia wore was made of some slinky, draped fabric, and slid away to bare her back when she leaned over. Ford swallowed hard.
“So I’ve learned. It was a pleasant surprise to find out that Dallas O’Kane’s secret weapon is a nineteen-year-old...” She trailed off as she straightened, her gaze meeting his. A different sort of smile curved her lips, something sweet and still way too knowing. “Maybe I shouldn’t have been shocked,” she continued softly. “I know what young women can do.”
“Yeah.” Belatedly, he reached into his pocket and closed his hand around her battered locket. It was too light for its size—cheap and nickel-plated—and it almost tumbled from his palm as he held it out to her. “Here. They broke the chain, but you can get another one.”
Her hand shook as she closed her fingers around it. “How did you find it?”
“Tracked down the bastards who took it. Wasn’t hard.”
Mia turned her hand and uncurled her fingers so slowly it was like she expected the locket to be gone. Her eyes were too bright, tears threatening, but she didn’t cry as she brushed one fingertip around the edge. “Did you look inside?”
He’d figured it was damn well none of his business. “No, I didn’t.”
She worked a thumbnail under one edge and popped it open, holding it out so he could see. The picture inside was faded, small, but he could still make out the delicate features of a woman who shared Mia’s dark skin, prominent cheekbones, and beautiful eyes.
“My mother,” she whispered. “She died two years into my training, but she was sick before that.”
His chest ached, and he wrapped one hand around the back of her neck. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.” She snapped it shut and fisted her hand. “You gave her back to me.”
He ran his fingers up into her hair. “I got your jewelry back from a fence, that’s all.”
“Is that really all?”
Those big, warm eyes might chill when she found out the truth. “We also took care of the assholes who attacked your landlady. They won’t be hurting anyone else.”
But she only tilted her chin up, letting him cradle the back of her head as she smiled up at him. “You O’Kanes take care of your people.”
“Always.” His gaze settled on her lips, full and lush. Everything about her was lush, and he wanted her under him—her bare skin against his, hot moans sighing into his ear.
She wanted it, too. It was in every line of her body, in her too-quick breaths as her tongue darted over her lips. A heartbeat later she was gone, twisting back toward the desk in a flurry of nervous energy. “Nessa gave me what I needed to finish my program. More than I needed, really. I could only do the preliminary analysis, of course, but it will give us someplace to start.”
Ford cleared his throat and dragged his libido under control. “Show me.”
Visibly tense with nerves, Mia swept up the tablet and handed it to him.
The application running on the tablet looked like a calculator, an interactive graph that updated its calculations as he changed quantities of ingredients—corn, wheat, and other grains as well as the rarer ingredients Nessa sometimes used. There were suggested figures based on their historical use, but every variable in the calculation could be manipulated.
“Cost analysis and potential profit,” he summed up. “I’m impressed.”
She lit up, her eyes sparking with enthusiasm as she reached out to swipe the screen to the second page. “I’m working on this, too—trying to factor in aging time and likely crop availability. It’s more complicated than I ever realized, timing it so you have enough of everything.”
“I’m not sure you could. Didn’t Nessa give you her ‘it’s not a science, it’s an art’ speech?”
“She did, even though she’d just spent half an hour telling me how the science works.” Mia reclaimed the tablet and smiled up at him. “I suppose the facts only get you so far, and the rest is a different sort of chemistry.”
Another layer of meaning lurked beneath the words, but Ford only smiled and tapped his temple. “Most of this, I’ve got up here. It’ll be good to have it someplace else, just in case. Thank you.”
She wrinkled her nose as she gathered up her paperwork. “That’s a criminal misuse of resources. You’ve got an amazing mind. It should be doing things tech can’t do for you.”
He placed his hand on the desk, pinning the papers to the surface as he leaned close to her ear. “Like what?”
Mia went still. Even her breath caught before she released it on a shaky sigh. “Thinking big thoughts.”
“Is that really what you’re thinking about right now?” he asked teasingly. “My big thoughts?”
She laughed, turning her face toward his cheek. Warm breath tickled his jaw, followed by the softest brush of her lips. “Yes. What else could possibly command my attention?”
“Lunch.” He ran his free hand up her bare arm, relishing the thrill that stabbed through him when goose bumps rose at his touch.
“Lunch?”
Her distraction was gratifying. “Mmm. Unless you’ve already eaten.”
“No, I got caught up in this.” She tilted her head back against his shoulder, eyes closed, lips curving into a slow smile. “But I’m starving.”
Ford stifled a groan. “Loaded words, buttercup. You ever rode a bike before?”
“Never.”
“Ever had a real empanada?”
She turned in his arms to stare up at him, and all that hope was back in her eyes, along with a radiant curiosity. “No, I don’t even know what that is.”
“That’s a damn shame.” If he leaned down a few more inches, her mouth could be under his. He could be kissing her, picking her up and dropping her on his desk. Instead, he took a step back. “Get your coat.”
For a flattering moment, she remained frozen, braced against the desk as if she’d been imagining the same thing. Her fingers traced back and forth over the wooden surf
ace as her gaze swept up his body before fixing on his.
When she smiled, it lit her face with mischievous delight. “Are you going to take me for my first ride, Ford?”
“Uh-huh.” He smiled back, slow and wicked. “But first, we’re going for a spin on my new bike.”
A quick, hard ride on Ford’s desk would have satisfied her body, but a slow, easy ride on his bike healed her soul.
Maybe it was a whimsical thought, but there was more to the magic than the rumbling power of the bike between her thighs and the pleasure of snuggling up tight against Ford’s back. The road stretching out ahead of them felt like freedom, even with the wind catching at her clothes, trying to hold her back.
It couldn’t. Nothing could hold her back, not with Ford beside her.
Right now he was in front of her, blocking most of the wind with his massive shoulders. He’d spun them around the block a few times to let her get used to the feeling of being in the seat before gunning it for the edge of the sector, and Mia watched civilization fall away on either side of them. Well-kept buildings gave way to shabbier ones, which gave way to makeshift shelters built from whatever supplies their owners could find.
Sector Two was contained, enclosed inside a wall guarded by Cerys’s carefully trained soldiers. Sector Four seemed to sprawl outward forever. There were even nicer buildings going up in the emptier spaces, wooden houses on neat lots, showing signs of care and effort.
She’d always known people flocked to Sector Four, and now she understood why. Dallas O’Kane was a benevolent dictator peddling hope, and nothing was at a higher premium these days.
They shot past the last line of buildings, and then freedom was more than just a feeling. It stretched out in front of them for endless miles, a cracked asphalt road disappearing into the distant horizon. And then Ford turned in a wide arc and they left even the road behind, speeding over the packed dirt as the wind stole her delighted laugh.
Maybe if they rode far enough, fast enough, the wind would rip away all the parts of Sector Two still clinging to her heart.
Ford was warm against her body, and she nestled closer as he pointed the bike toward a small cluster of buildings, more solid than most of the other shacks they’d passed. People milled around outside, shading their eyes to watch as she and Ford grew closer.
A settlement.
They coasted to a stop, and Mia pulled off the battered helmet Ford had found for her. It was easier to see without it, and there was so much to look at. Everything around her was makeshift but efficient—old train cars had been arranged so the backs formed part of the animal pen, and someone had hauled the seats out of a dozen cars and arranged them around a fire pit.
The adults were still watching them, silently respectful, but a little girl who couldn’t have been more than ten broke away from her mother with an excited cry. “You got a new bike!”
“Sure did.” Ford shut off the engine, kicked down the stand to stabilize the bike, and looked down at the girl. “Rachel just finished fixing it up for me. You like it?”
“Uh-huh.” The girl circled the motorcycle, her big eyes transfixed. “I’ll watch it for you, if you want. Are you here to see Dad?”
“Don’t touch the exhaust,” Ford warned as he climbed off the bike. “We’re here to see your Aunt Lise.”
“She’s out back in her studio.”
Mia slipped from the bike and set the helmet on the seat, hiding a smile as the girl shifted her weight from one foot to the other, nearly dancing with impatient energy. Sure enough, the words burst out before Mia had made it two steps away. “Hey, Ford! I can sit on it, right? I won’t break it.”
Ford tilted his head. “Depends. Does Shorty have anything left over in his truck from lunch, or did you greedy monsters wipe him out?”
The kid might have been small, but her shout echoed off the mountains. “Shorty! Ford wants some food.”
A man with black hair, black eyes, and golden skin stuck his head out of the closest vehicle, an ancient delivery truck with peeling paint and a large window cut out of the side, and grinned widely. “Ford, you tough old bastard. Get over here.”
Mia followed as Ford crossed the dusty clearing. Not so much as a hint of his limp showed in his careful but confident stride—not out here, not from the moment they’d set foot off O’Kane grounds.
No weakness, not in front of strangers.
Thank God she’d borrowed the clothing from Nessa. In the jeans and boots and wrapped tight in her new leather jacket, Mia wasn’t presenting her version of perfection, but she could tell the image was the right one by the way the adult gazes followed her. More than one flicked to her wrists, and they’d made it most of the way to the trailer before she realized they were checking her for O’Kane ink.
Shorty braced his elbows on the dented metal ledge that had been welded onto the truck’s makeshift window. “I got empanadas left, and some beans and rice. Who’s the pretty lady?”
“This is Mia. She’s a friend of Lex’s.”
“For a friend of Lex’s, lunch is free.” The cook grinned at her, and the expression looked right on his sun-weathered face. He had wrinkles, as if he smiled all the time. “It’s been months since Lex came to visit. If you’ve got time, I can whip up a batch of tamales to take back to her. Tell her we miss her.”
“Will do.” Ford accepted the two beers Shorty passed through the window and tilted his head toward an empty wooden table nearby. “Let’s have a seat.”
The beer was ice-cold and far more bitter than the bottle she’d tried at the bar, but she took two long sips anyway, because trying new things felt like part of the adventure. And it was an adventure again—an even more exciting one than before.
Ford had given her that.
She smiled at him as she rubbed a thumb along the neck of the bottle. “Are there a lot of places like this? Not in the sectors, but not out in the communes, either?”
“Depends on where you go—and who’s in charge.”
“Is Dallas in charge all the way out here?”
“Yeah.” Ford looked around, taking in the landscape, then gestured back in the direction of the city. “Technically, the sector border ends a ways back, but Dallas is a good leader. Tough but fair. He’ll protect them, and he doesn’t want trouble. That’s enough to make the people here want to follow him.”
They hadn’t come far enough for the city to fall out of sight, though the dips and curves of the hills cut off the view of the sectors. From here only Eden was visible, the tops of the walls and the buildings that rose above them, some thirty or forty stories high. The sun caught the steel and reflected off windows, making the whole thing look like a desert mirage.
Eden, the impossible city. She’d lived in its shadow for so long that it felt disorienting to see it like this—a lonely cluster of buildings on the horizon, isolated in the middle of endless nothing.
The world was so much bigger than she’d ever dreamed.
It didn’t take Shorty long to bring the food, and the empanadas turned out to be spicy meat encased in a flaky dough that melted on her tongue. She ignored proper etiquette and a lifetime of rules about when and how a lady ate, breaking off pieces with her fingers and making approving noises that weren’t even a little bit seductive. “Why don’t you have these for lunch all the time?”
Ford watched her, the corner of his mouth turned up in an easy smile that belied the heat in his eyes. “Because then it wouldn’t be special.”
“I don’t believe you. You could eat these every day and they’d still be special.”
“That’s the truth, because I do eat them every day,” said a new voice, and a pretty brunette with battered jeans, a messy ponytail, and a leather apron dropped into an empty chair. “Ford, good to see you out and about. I heard you were looking for me.”
“Mia, this is Lise.” He wiped his mouth with his napkin and pulled his cigarette case out of his pocket. “She makes jewelry.”
“Among other things.”
She held out her hand. “Nice to meet you.”
Mia held out her own hand as the connection fell into place. “Stuart’s sister? I think I saw some of your work in the market when Trix took me shopping for my coat. You’re very skilled.”
“Thanks.” Lise slanted a sidelong look at Ford before smiling. “So what can I do for you?”
Mia slipped her locket out of her pocket and set it on the table. “I know it’s not much, but it means a lot to me. Ford said you’d be able to find a new chain.”
“You need more than that.” Lise flicked her thumbnail over the loop at the top of the locket. It was bent and twisted, one side broken clean through. “But I can fix it. You’ll be here for a while?”
Ford grunted in confirmation.
Lise rose. “Consider it done.”
And that was that. Lise swept away, locket in hand, and Mia only briefly considered asking about money before letting it go. For all she knew, Lise would perform the task for free because Ford was an O’Kane, and that meant something even out here.
“Thank you,” she said instead, slipping her hand over his. “For this. For everything. Just...thank you.”
He turned his hand, his fingers twining with hers, but he remained silent for so long she thought he wouldn’t speak. Then he met her gaze. “It’s important to you. That makes it important to me.”
Oh God.
It was unfair, really. The man should have to work for it—a wink or a smile or something—not just sit there staring at her with dark eyes and a stony expression that turned her flight toward freedom into a dizzying, exhilarating fall.
He’d catch her every time, and all she had to do in return was let him. Let him be her safety net, let him sand off the rough, uncomfortable parts of freedom. It wouldn’t have to be like Sector Two all over again. She could be like this settlement—giving her loyalty freely because she got so much in return.
Ford would demand plenty. He’d sweep through her life on a wave of protective fury, giving her all the things he wanted her to have, washing away anyone who threatened her. She could only imagine the games he’d play with her in bed—her body heated at the thought of being at his mercy. He’d be possessive and bossy and exasperating, all three, every day.