Marked

by Kit Rocha

  "Why?" Hobbs took a step back, dragging Emma along.

  "Because I can do worse than end you." The knife sliced into Emma's skin, and every drop of blood felt like failure. He had to get her away from this--away from him, if that was what it took. "Let her go, and I'll come back to Five with you."

  Her eyes widened. "Noah--"

  Hobbs ignored her. He coughed out a laugh, and flecks of red splattered Emma's shirt. "I'm not going back, Lennox. But I can take her with me."

  And he would, out of sheer spite. One last fuck you to the world and to Noah for sending him out of it, and there'd be nothing left. No brightness, no sunshine, no joy--

  Noah steadied his hands to risk a head shot, but the distinctive flick of a switchblade interrupted him. Emma's free arm, the one not bracing against the knife at her throat, jerked back. At the same time, she twisted, gripping Hobbs's wrist and wrenching it out at an unnatural angle.

  The knife clattered to their feet, and Emma kicked it away. But she didn't even have to bother, because Hobbs stood there, stock-still, and looked down at the wicked black handle protruding from his belly.

  Yeah, Emmaline Cibulski could fucking well take care of herself.

  It didn't stop Noah from shooting Hobbs, just in case.

  The man slammed to the asphalt, lifeless, Emma's knife still sticking out of his gut. Noah ignored him like he'd ignored the rest of the trash, striding across the space between them to reach for Emma. "Are you--?"

  She jerked away before he could touch her. "No."

  She was bleeding, but he didn't think the cut on her throat was the cause for the pain behind the words. And he wanted to pile more on top of it, to swear it wasn't as bad as it sounded, that Hobbs had twisted the truth--

  There was only one thing he could say. "I never thought I owned you."

  That froze the pain, turned it to ice in her eyes. "What did you say?"

  "I never--" His stomach twisted, and he clenched his fists. No excuses justified his failure. Anything he said now would be about making himself feel better. "Cib loved you," he said instead. "The drugs fucked him up. That's what they do."

  Her hands squeezed into fists, and for one second, Noah was sure she'd slap him, so sure he could already feel the crack of her palm across his cheek.

  She hit him with a whisper instead. "Do you even hear yourself? So fucking desperate to make sure I know you did everything you could, that you did everything right. Well, fuck you, okay?" Her voice rose. "I need a minute to wrap my head around the fact that my brother sold me like a goddamn whore, and no one ever bothered to tell me, so fuck you."

  It would have hurt less if she'd slapped him. If she'd stabbed him. But she was right, so Noah gritted his teeth and stayed silent.

  She stood there, staring at him. "The drugs fucked him up," she finally echoed in a rasp. "I buy that. But what's your excuse?"

  "My excuse?"

  "Cib figured he could sell me. And you figured you could buy me." She held both hands out to her sides. "Save me from my life, right? I'm sure it was all very noble."

  It didn't sound noble, not with the lash of disdain under her words. "It wasn't like that. God, Em--I wasn't buying you, I was buying time."

  "What did it change?" Her voice thickened, and the first tears spilled down her cheeks. "My brother was a fighter, and he loved me. If he was hawking me to his buddies like a fucking secondhand guitar, then he was dead already. Shit just hadn't caught up to him yet."

  Or maybe it was one more way Noah had failed--by not getting him out fast enough. Maybe he should have damned the debts, packed them up, run as far and as fast as possible, and fuck the consequences. "What else could I do?"

  "That's the wrong damn question, Noah."

  "Are you going to stand there bleeding while I try to guess the right one?" He reached for the hem of his shirt. "At least let me--"

  "No."

  If he touched her, she'd probably pull another knife. "I did what I could, okay? It was fucked up and selfish and wrong, but money was the only thing I had to fix it with."

  "That's the problem, and you don't even get it, do you? You still don't get it." Emma turned and headed for the opposite end of the alley--and the street. "Let me know when you figure it out."

  Worry propelled him another two steps after her. "Wait, you can't just walk back alone."

  "The hell I can't."

  Her voice made it clear this wasn't a battle he could win, but it was so hard to stop fighting. "At least take the fucking bike."

  She kept walking, right out of his life.

  It took everything he had in him to let her go.

  Chapter Nine

  Emma hated herself for crying, but she couldn't help it. Steam from the shower billowed around her as she leaned against the tile, fighting the ugly sobs that threatened to tear free of her throat. It didn't seem real yet, walking away from Noah Lennox. He'd been so many of her firsts--her first crush, her first love.

  Maybe it was only fitting that he be her first broken heart, too.

  The hot spray stung her neck, so she climbed out, toweled off, and gingerly applied a thin layer of med-gel over the shallow slice across her throat. She should have done it first thing, but she'd only wanted to hide in the shower and let the water wash away her tears.

  Her bed creaked, and she hated herself anew for hoping it was Noah, that he'd followed her, that he'd come back--

  It was Lex, perched on the edge of the mattress, with Dallas standing beside her.

  His gaze jumped straight to her throat, eyes narrowing. "Who?"

  Her hand rose automatically to cover the wound, and Emma forced herself to relax. "Some asshole from Five, one of Fleming's enforcers. Don't worry, he's dead."

  "And Lennox?"

  She looked away. "I'm assuming he's fine."

  Lex rose. "Are you all right?"

  How the hell could she answer that when she could barely feel anything beyond a sick, burning knot in her gut? "Did you know?"

  It had to be bad for Dallas's eyes to soften like that. "You're gonna need to be more specific, darling."

  To her credit, Lex didn't try to deflect. Instead, she muttered a curse and sighed. "I told Lennox to keep his mouth shut. Ordered him to, even, so if you want to be mad, here I am."

  As if he'd ever planned on telling her. Emma snorted. "That's real self-sacrificing of you. It's also bullshit."

  Dallas laid a hand on Lex's shoulder and kept his gaze on Emma. "Did he tell you?"

  "No." That would involve Noah stepping back, treating her like an adult by not trying to protect her constantly. "I found out from the guy who almost slit my throat instead. That was much easier to take than hearing it from a friend."

  "Careful." It only took three of Dallas's ground-devouring steps to cross the space between them. He lifted her face with one gentle finger under her chin and studied the wound. "No, this isn't how it should have come out. But I told him to hold his damn tongue because I needed to know what sort of man he was."

  "He's--" Her voice cracked, and she squeezed her eyes shut.

  Lex made a soft noise and rubbed her bare shoulder. "Oh, honey."

  Dallas slid his fingers around to the back of Emma's neck, his touch soothing and affectionate. Safe. "Hard truths are simple until it's time to lay them on the people we love. I didn't want him dumping his guilt on you and splitting."

  "He wouldn't." Instead, he'd be leaving her to face all those inevitable hard truths, dazed and unsteady. Unprepared.

  "Would or wouldn't, it's not about him. Not right now, not with us."

  "I know." The painful knot in her throat migrated to her chest. "My brother sold me."

  "Yeah." Lex tugged her down to sit on the end of the bed and wrapped both arms around her. "It sucks. And I don't give a damn if he is dead, you get mad, Emma. Because that was shitty."

  "No fucking excuse." Dallas sighed and crouched in front of her. "But it was never about you, and I know you know that. That shit Fleming co
oks up is toxic. Doesn't just make people addicts, it makes them crazy."

  "Yeah." The worst part was that she understood that. Cib never would have done it if he'd been in his right mind. What really hurt was all the years she'd spent not knowing what had happened or why or how-- "Do you know what happened?"

  "From what I've heard?" Lex hesitated. "He took on a delivery for Fleming, but instead of selling the drugs--"

  "He took them himself," Emma finished flatly.

  "He took them," Lex confirmed, pulling her closer. "Then he had to pay up."

  Amazing how still her hands were, when inside, Emma was dying. "I blamed myself. I thought he'd had a run-in with someone because of his job, because he was trying to support me. I thought if only I hadn't been there, dragging him down, he would have been all right."

  "Ah, love." Dallas's hands were huge and covered hers completely. "That's bullshit. Fleming was the weight around his ankles, but he tied it on his damn self. Don't you ever think otherwise."

  Easy for him to say. "I might not have assumed it was my fault if anyone had bothered to tell me the truth."

  "Fair enough." He kissed her forehead and rocked to his feet. "One more question. Does Lennox need to stay the fuck away from this sector?"

  "No." Hating Noah would be straightforward, simple. Better than feeling betrayed by his lack of faith in her strength. "No, he and I are square."

  "Emma..."

  "He belongs here, Dallas." Nothing less than the truth. "You know it."

  He grunted. "We'll see. Lex?"

  "Go on." She twisted a wet lock of Emma's hair around her finger until the door slammed behind Dallas, then she shook her head. "He needs to hit something. Probably not Noah, though."

  Emma laughed helplessly and grimaced as she gestured to her cut. "Don't make me giggle. It hurts."

  "In more ways than one," Lex murmured. "Look, honey. I could say a lot of stuff right now, and none of it would help, not one damn bit. So let me just tell you that I don't know how you feel, not exactly...but I've come close to a lot of it."

  Lex knew about being sold, and Lex knew about betrayal. How much did she know about heartbreak? "I gave him everything."

  "Everything?"

  "Mind, body, and soul."

  "And heart." Lex sighed and stroked her hair. "If you gave him that, you know it's not that simple to take it back. Walking away is hard as hell."

  She didn't want to walk, but how was she supposed to move past the knowledge that she'd been floating through the past four years, living a lie? And, Christ--what if Noah's guilt ran deeper than even he realized, and the connection he felt to her was because of it?

  She wished for numbness now, but the only thing she couldn't feel was her lips as she mumbled, "I guess I need to talk to him."

  "Later," Lex said firmly. "Right now, we worry about you, baby girl. That's all."

  Relief left her weak as she leaned in to Lex's comforting embrace. She'd be strong in front of Noah--she'd be steel--but here...

  Here, she could afford to cry, just a little.

  The bar in Sector Three was no Broken Circle, but it was a lot nicer than it had been before Dallas and his people took over and started cleaning things up. Under the previous owner, Noah would have expected to get jumped for his spare cash within five minutes of crossing the threshold.

  If the man approaching Noah's table kicked his ass, it wouldn't be for anything as trivial as money. And he had it coming.

  Bren slid into a chair and raised both eyebrows. "Is there a reason you dragged me all the way over here, Lennox?"

  Because he didn't trust himself anywhere near Emma, not with desperate loss shredding him up from the inside out. But he couldn't admit that to Bren, so he slid the data chip across the table instead. "Everything your boss needs."

  Bren pocketed the chip with a nod. "You didn't answer my question."

  That was the problem with hardcore Special Tasks soldiers, present or former. Once they locked on to a target, it was impossible to distract them. "Did Six ever tell you about what I did?"

  "You mean handing her all my military evaluation vids?"

  It had felt righteous at the time. Right. Six had barely known Noah, but he'd felt like he knew her all too well. She represented the worst of what could have happened to Emma--a tough girl sweet-talked by the criminal leader of Sector Three, and too tangled up in his bullshit to break free by the time he started to hurt her.

  So when Six ended up with Dallas O'Kane, with Bren, it had seemed like the decent thing to do--make sure she wouldn't get blindsided a second time.

  What a smug fucking hypocrite Noah was. "I thought I was giving her what she needed. Knowledge. Turns out, it's easier to tell other people's secrets than your own."

  "No shit." One of the dancers, a pink-haired girl in platform heels and not much else, set a drink in front of Bren, and he picked it up. "You were right not to come to Four. I wouldn't say Dallas is gunning for you, but he sure wouldn't mind fucking your face up a little."

  "There's a long line for the privilege." The need to ask about Emma throbbed in Noah's chest, but he ignored it. "I shouldn't have brought her with me. Dallas brushed it off, but I knew Fleming would come at me."

  "What, the fight?" Bren downed his drink. "I doubt that has much to do with our fearless leader's desire to punch the shit out of you."

  "It should," Noah retorted, and even self-preservation couldn't keep the anger out of his voice. "I painted a target on her back, and now I have to figure out how to fix that."

  "A smart man uses his skills to his best advantage." Bren slanted him a look. "I thought you were a smart man."

  It was an echo of Emma's plea for him to use his brain, and that drew a morbid smile. "I've always been a smart man, but I guess I lack inspiration."

  "So get inspired. Get motivated." Bren rose and shoved his hands in his jacket pockets. "Get it done, and make it right."

  He'd gotten inspired the moment that knife touched Emma's throat, but the plan hadn't come until he'd forced himself to watch her walk away. A crazy plan. A fucking reckless one that might end with a bullet between his eyes.

  But if it worked out, she'd be free. And so would he.

  Noah stood, as well. "If what I have planned works, O'Kane will forgive me. If it doesn't..."

  "It better. Don't make her cry again."

  Better to make Emma cry than to leave her with a second lifetime of regrets. Of guilt. "If it doesn't," he repeated softly, "tell her I did it for me. That I was tired of running."

  Bren hesitated, then nodded slowly. "I'll tell her you did what you had to do. For yourself."

  "And take care of her, Donnelly. Promise me."

  "Emma can take care of herself."

  Physically, maybe. He believed that now. But in every other way... If the persistent ache in his formerly numb heart was anything to go by, the O'Kanes were the most vulnerable bastards around. There was a certain safety in not feeling. In hopelessness. No disappointment, no regret, just dull relief that you were still breathing when the sun set.

  Joy and hope were better. Brighter. But they made loss cut so damn deep. "Take care of her heart."

  Bren started for the door before calling back over his shoulder. "She's an O'Kane. That makes her family."

  Family. Not always a rousing endorsement, especially for Emma. But this time, Noah would believe in it. He had to believe, and then he had to forget. He wasn't an actor, but he didn't need to lie for this, just tell the worst parts of the truths he'd tried to hide from all those years.

  Freedom wouldn't come cheap, but she was worth it.

  Mac Fleming didn't look evil.

  He seemed pleasant enough on the outside. Handsome, Noah supposed, though women seemed equally transfixed by his aura of power--and his money. He sat behind a polished desk, his expensive suit just rumpled enough to suggest he'd been interrupted in the middle of something.

  Probably banging his latest mistress. Mac had a wife and family tu
cked away on the edge of the sector, but Noah had spent over two decades running the tech for his factories without hearing Fleming speak about them more than a handful of times.

  "Noah," he said casually, an unmistakable thread of glee wreathing the word. "What a pleasant surprise. I've looked everywhere for you, and here you come--walking into my office."

  Noah didn't bother to hide his disdain. He didn't need to. "It only seemed right to tell you in person that Hobbs isn't coming back."

  "Now that isn't so much a surprise." Fleming pulled a cigar from a humidor on his desk and snipped the end. "Who did him in? Was it you or Cibulski's sister?"

  Hearing her name on Fleming's lips was chilling, but it worked for the game. "So you know she's there."

  Fleming laughed. "She's not exactly incognito, shaking her tits in O'Kane's club, is she? Didn't even change her name."

  Noah's hands fisted, and he embraced the anger. Let it play across his face, a true emotion he used to spin the lie that followed. "O'Kane's a lot less subtle than you are. When making her dance didn't draw me out, he tattooed his fucking mark on her."

  Fleming sparked an antique lighter and puffed at his cigar as he lit it. "Did he? That's your property, not his."

  "I know," he ground out, and goddamn, he shouldn't have been worried about summoning enough outraged fury. The real challenge would be in not going for Fleming's throat. "He thought he could control me through her. Even you were never that stupid."

  "Bitches come and go." Fleming said it solemnly, like he was laying down some kind of universal, philosophical truth, then followed it with a pointed look. "What's your play, Lennox? And what do you want from me?"

  "The same thing I've always wanted." It was hard to say it like this, to a man like Fleming. The truth, in all its sad, twisted glory. "I want her. And I want out."

  "So you want protection."

  "You really think you can protect me from O'Kane if I take one of his women?"

  The man slammed his hand down on the desk hard enough to rattle everything on it. "Dallas O'Kane does not rule this sector, and he doesn't rule me!"