by Kit Rocha
"Really?" That was damn ominous. The ability to pay off the MPs to look the other way as you conducted necessary business was one of the lynchpins of Eden's economy.
Ashwin guided the SUV onto the street before meeting Jared's gaze in the rearview mirror. "Miller used to drive bars out of business and then have to waste resources fetching spoiled rich kids out of the sectors. I don't have time for that. Don't draw my boss's attention, and I won't notice you."
"How reassuring." If there was one thing he'd always been terrible at, it was not drawing attention.
"Reassurances are also beyond my purview."
"I bet. So." He leaned forward, close to the divider, propping one arm on the frame. "Who is it, exactly, who commands my presence this afternoon?"
"Councilman Nikolas Markovic."
The new guy, the same one Dallas had his eye on as a potential convert and ally. Jared sat back on the seat and resolved to think of this less as a shakedown and more of an opportunity. "I don't believe I've had the pleasure."
Ashwin glanced at him in the mirror again. "Is that what you consider it?"
Jared shrugged. "Until something or someone proves otherwise, why not?"
"It's not the reaction I'm accustomed to."
"No?" The SUV passed through the market district and headed straight for the cluster of glass and steel buildings that housed the city's shriveled political heart. "No, I imagine most of the loyal citizens you drag before the Council would have good reason to be shitting their pants, wouldn't they, Lieutenant?"
He shrugged one broad shoulder, but it was stiff, as if he was mimicking proper body language instead of expressing himself. "Loyal citizens don't know I exist, either."
"I'll keep that in mind." They pulled to a stop outside of the towering Civic Building, and two uniformed officers stepped forward to escort Jared through the door.
At least we're not going in the back, he thought dourly. If you planned to beat someone to death and dump his body in the reservoir, you wanted as few witnesses as possible, even here in Eden. Even if you were part of the Council.
One silent elevator ride later, the lieutenant left him alone in a small corner office, staring out the windows that overlooked the outer edge of the city, as well as a large part of Sector Five.
He didn't have long to wait. The far door opened, and Nikolas Markovic stepped through.
The newest councilman looked a little younger than Dallas, but even more harried. His suit hung just a bit big, and his dark brown hair was overdue for a trim. His strong jaw was stubbled, though it was too early for five o'clock shadow.
In a place that valued appearances as much as Eden did, Markovic was an unlikely leader. And his expression said he knew it. "Have a seat, Mr. Capello."
"Jared." There were two chairs in front of the desk, both canted slightly to either side. He pushed one to the middle, squarely facing the desk, and sank into it. "My name is Jared."
"If you insist." Markovic settled into his own seat and studied Jared. "It's not as if the name attached to your bar code was originally recorded by Eden, was it?"
"That sounds like a rhetorical question."
"Just an acknowledgment." He waved his hand to take in his office. "We could be having this conversation somewhere less comfortable. But I don't consider you an enemy."
The words meant more when they didn't come hard on the heels of a veiled threat. "What do you consider me?"
Markovic pressed his fingers together and considered the question. "Impressive," he said finally. "You've navigated between worlds for more years than most people manage. Worlds with contradictory demands."
Jared grinned. "You didn't have your pet Special Tasks soldier haul me out of my bar to talk about my flexibility, did you?"
Suggestive words, and they worked. Markovic flushed and sat back, gripping the arms of his chair. "No. I thought you deserved a warning."
"I find it hard to believe that your fellow Council members could begrudge my change in profession. After all, it means I won't be fucking their wives anymore."
Flustered or not, the man held his ground. "On the contrary. You were harmless while you were...catering to their wives' idle curiosities."
"Was I."
Markovic inclined his head. "My colleagues have their blind spots. But Dallas O'Kane isn't one of them."
"I see." The man could be dismissive of Jared's job, of his clients' happiness—hell, of sexual pleasure altogether. But he couldn't overlook the O'Kanes. The realization was a powerful one, one that meant everything. "The real point of this visit."
"There's been talk," he agreed. "They're saying that O'Kane is tired of crumbs, and you're the one he's sent to steal dinner."
The urge to laugh overwhelmed him, and Jared gave in to it. "I don't know Dallas very well, but I can tell you one thing—whatever you bastards here in the city have, it's the last fucking thing he wants."
A muscle in Markovic's jaw twitched, and he leaned forward again. "We have plenty to offer. Plenty that we should be—" He ground his teeth together. "Whether he wants it or not is beside the point. They think he does. And if someone questions you again about your associations with him, it won't be in an office."
"No, it'll be in one of those rooms downstairs that no one talks about." Jared rose and reached for the top button of his shirt.
Markovic's eyes widened. "What are you doing?"
"Answering your question, Councilman." His shirt fell open, and he began to loosen the cuffs. "O'Kane inks all his men."
Flushing, the man averted his gaze. "This isn't necessary."
Jared stilled his hands. "It's your call, Mr. Markovic," he murmured. "You're the boss."
The flush deepened. Markovic's hands flexed on the arms of his chair, then he leaned forward and swung his gaze back to Jared's. "If you don't think Cerys has tried worse on me, you're not as impressive as I thought."
Cerys could spot repressed dominant tendencies from fucking orbital space. It was her favorite thing to exploit, the shaky, desperate need that had yet to find its focus. She could play to that need, coax it to life with the perfect sweet young thing—and then snap her trap shut right on the poor bastard's balls.
Jared arched one eyebrow. "Fair enough. You're not interested in me, and I'm officially retired from the whoring business. So why don't we be straight with each other? I just want to run my bar, Markovic."
"Your social club, I'm sure you meant."
"Whatever helps you sleep at night."
The councilman almost smiled. "Better relations between Eden and the sectors would help me sleep at night. I have a feeling neither of us can survive forever on our own."
Every so often, some bigwig from Eden would start talking about better relations between the city and the sectors. Usually, it meant they wanted a piece of the sector action under the cover of a humanitarian crusade. But Jared got the strangest feeling that Nikolas Markovic was sincere.
It would make him exactly the ally Dallas wanted. And it would get him killed. "You want my advice on how to handle facilitating those relations? Don't."
One eyebrow swept up. "Don't? At all?"
"Unless you just can't wait for your colleagues on the Council to get rid of you, then yeah."
"Save your concern. Your current position is even more precarious than mine." He waved a hand and averted his gaze. "And button up your shirt."
"Yes, sir," he murmured, busying his hands with the task. "There's something you should know, since you're thinking about climbing into bed with O'Kane."
Markovic didn't bluster or deny. "And that is?"
His next words could get Dallas exactly what he wanted—or put him on the chopping block. So Jared chose them carefully. "Dallas isn't tired of crumbs. He's tired of the bullshit, the hypocrisy. Your buddies might think he wants what's theirs, but the truth is much more dangerous."
After a moment, Markovic inclined his head. "That would be valuable information for someone interested in aligning himself w
ith O'Kane. Which neither of us are, of course."
"Of course."
"I'll relay your lack of associations to my colleagues. But, Jared?"
There was a lilt of warning in the other man's voice. "Sir?"
"Now would not be the time to convince them you were never harmless."
"Sure, I was," Jared replied softly. "I still am. Completely harmless. A brainless pretty face with a big dick and plenty of O'Kane's finest whiskey, right?"
The words earned him a tightened jaw and slight frown. "If you keep poking for a reaction, someone's going to give you one you don't like."
"Relax." Jared carefully rearranged the chairs into their proper places. "I don't poke where I'm not wanted."
"Kindly get out, Mr. Capello."
Jared allowed himself a smile as he turned for the door. "Yes, sir."
Rachel got very, very excited about hops.
"They have greenhouses, right?" she asked Hawk, the words tumbling over each other. "Hops need moisture. You can't just grow them in the desert, they'll be useless."
Lili hid a smile by looking down at her notes, where she'd plotted out her wish list of herbs and spices. Rachel was always exuberant, but now she was domineering, too, leaning in with a confident focus that left Hawk a little flustered.
"We can do greenhouses—"
"And trellises," she went on. "They do better with more exposed surface area. If you train them up trellises, you get a better yield."
"I'm sure we can figure something out," Jade said, stepping smoothly into the conversation and gently diverting Rachel's attention. "Finn and Bren have recovered so much in the way of building materials from Three that we can create anything you'll need for a stable, consistent crop."
Rachel blinked at her. "I'm doing it again, aren't I?"
"A little. But it's charming." Jade smiled and gestured to Lili's tablet. "What about you, Lili? What else do you need to expand the kitchens?"
Lili glanced down at her list again, as well as the idle doodles spiraling down the side. There was a weight to sitting at this table, a responsibility, even if it was merely about herbs and vegetables. People with the power to make sweeping changes were consulting her.
What she said could change things. "Just the herbs, which should be easy. But I'd like to grow extras. As much of everything as we can, so I can dry it."
"We use solar dryers on the farm," Hawk said. "Wouldn't be hard to make a couple more."
Jade nodded. "Rachel? Anything else you need him to consider during the construction phase?"
"No, I'm good." She snapped her stylus into her tablet and rose. "But I'm late for opening shift." She waved at Hawk and stopped to brush a kiss over the top of Jade's head, then Lili's. "Have fun."
"Wait." Lili swept up her own tablet with a smile for Hawk and Jade. "I'll walk over with you."
"Sure." Rachel waited until they were nearly to the access door for the roof before slinging her arm around Lili's shoulders and leaning close. "Tell the truth—I scared Hawk, huh?"
Lili laughed. "I think we all scare him a little, even me. He seems more comfortable with the men."
"Less intimidated, you mean." She lowered her voice further. "I get the feeling Hawk doesn't have a lot of experience with women."
"He's from Sector Six, isn't he?" The little she knew about the farms painted them as sprawling families where men took half a dozen wives, each one expected to have as many children as her mother had. Lili had grown up surrounded only by her siblings. Hawk had likely been the same.
"Yeah. Related to practically everyone around him on the farm." She paused. "I wonder if that's why he wanted to stay."
"Maybe not the only reason." Lili looped their arms together as they started down the stairs. "Once you get used to it, it's hard to imagine leaving."
"Right on." Rachel grinned, pleased. "Something's different about you today."
Everything was different about her today, and it had nothing and everything to do with the blissful night she'd spent in Jared's bed. The pleasure had been sweet, but not as sweet as letting go of fear.
The world still might break her. But it might not, and the potential in every breath was exhilarating. "I think I'm finally fully awake."
"It must have been one hell of a night." Rachel squeezed her arm. "Good for you."
Lili didn't blush, though maybe she should have. After the first time, she'd all but demanded he take her again, and he had, deep and slow and whispering filthy promises of the things they could do to each other, things that must be sin on either side of the wall and nonetheless heated her blood.
If he'd appeared in front of her, she would have dragged him straight to her rooms to try a few of them. "It was...eye-opening."
"With Jared? I bet."
"Is it always so—?" She bit her lip, suddenly uncertain. Nessa and the others had been relentless in their teasing demands for details, which meant frank discussions had to be common, but Lili hadn't shaken free of all of her repression overnight.
"Intense?"
"All-consuming." She paused in the stairwell at the second floor so she could face Rachel. "And still confusing. Even the parts that should have been terrifying...weren't."
"Yeah, because Jared's not a selfish asshole." Rachel tipped one shoulder up in a shrug. "You wanted him to have a good time, right? That goes both ways."
It was so simple, and yet still the most profound revelation of her short life. "Not everywhere."
Rachel winced. "Right, not everywhere. I'm sorry. I forget."
"It's all right." They continued down the stairs, and Lili tucked their arms together again. Casual affection—something else that might take time to feel natural. The O'Kanes were only standoffish with outsiders. Absent touching meant belonging, and Lili was beginning to understand how much she wanted to belong.
"Before I came here," Rachel went on, "when I lived in Eden, my parents expected me to marry a certain type of man. A politician, someone who would wind up on the Council someday."
Having met plenty of those men, Lili could imagine what Rachel's life would have entailed. "I'm glad you came here, then."
"So am I. But I do know that if any of those men had treated me badly, my father would have put a stop to it." She hesitated. "That's why it's easy for me to forget how awful things can be. Sometimes I need reminders, you know?"
If she could forget at all, she truly was one of the elite. Not because she'd been born to wealth or in a certain sector, but because she'd had the rarest of all things—a loving parent with the power to protect her.
They stepped into the sunlight together, and Lili squeezed Rachel's hand. "I don't want to remind you of bad things, and I don't want to remember them, either. We're here. And I like it here."
"Dallas and Lex will be glad to hear it."
With Rachel's ink under her fingers, the question hung in Lili's throat, so obvious, so fraught with the potential for rejection. Taking in a broken girl out of pity and obligation was a far cry from wanting her. "Do you really think they will be?"
"Yes, I do," Rachel said firmly.
"Enough to let me join, some day?"
The shorter woman sighed as she came to a halt in the middle of the courtyard. "Someday, tomorrow—you know they will, Lili. And you know why. Because we're not so different, the two of us."
It seemed laughable, but Rachel didn't look amused, so Lili didn't smile. "We're not?"
"Not at all. And I should have thought to tell you, because I know it matters. It did to me." Rachel folded her arms around her body. "We're both here because we gave Dallas something he wanted. You gave him testimony in front of the other sector leaders. I saved his supply lines into Eden."
It came back to Lili in a rush, all the furtive meetings between her father and her husband. Meetings involving men from Eden, men trying to move liquor and beer. She remembered hiding in a pantry while those men discussed betraying their leader.
Liam Riley. Rachel's father. "How did you do it?"
"It's a long story, but Eden was looking for someone to hang, and I took the fall. It kept Dallas and my father in business, so Dallas took me in."
"And made you a member." And now Lili understood. Her defensive posture, the faint sadness, all the little hints that echoed Lili's own unease. It was that discomfort that had driven her to Rachel to begin with, searching for some purpose or value that wasn't rooted in the worst day of her life.
"Yeah. And it took me a while to figure it all out. The truth." Rachel looked away, then pinned Lili with a pointed stare. "They had to let me in. But that doesn't mean they can't love me just as much as everyone else."
Lili nodded, even though the situations weren't the same at all, in the end. Dallas O'Kane had everything to gain from keeping Rachel happy and safe, especially if her father could sever business ties over her poor treatment. There was no one left in the world to protest Dallas turning Lili out into the streets.
Except he hadn't. Not on that first night, and not on any of the drugged, useless nights that followed. Because by some inexplicable miracle, the leader of Sector Four cared. "You're pretty easy to love, Rachel."
Rachel blushed. "Not everyone agrees, but thanks. That means a lot."
Spontaneous affection, it turned out, was something you never forgot. She hugged Rachel, and it didn't feel awkward at all this time.
Not that it was the same as hugging family—there was a warmth there, an awareness of the sensual pleasure of touching someone else. It didn't burn as brightly as Jared's touch, but when they broke apart and resumed their walk, Lili knew Rachel had felt it, too.
Which was good. It distracted them both from what Lili hadn't quite said, the darkness beneath her compliment.
You're pretty easy to love. But I'm not.
Chapter Thirteen
"Well, brother, your pretty little flower sure is blooming now."
Jared should have known it was coming. All through dinner, Ace had been on his best behavior, with barely a word or a look out of place. Now that Lili, Rachel, and Cruz had cleared the dishes and left to take them back down to the kitchen, it was his chance to pounce.