by Kit Rocha
Mad tapped the side of his head. "That's advice from a spy. And the answer to your question is...it's none of your damn business."
Figured. Mad knew everything because people trusted him, and people trusted him because he didn't spill secrets. "Fine. We gonna discuss anyone else's love life before we get back to actual business?"
Bren regarded him with a bland look. "Is yours on the table? 'Cause I had to stand outside your door for a good ten minutes this afternoon before I fucking dared to knock."
Dallas had fucked women in front of Bren before. Hell, he'd fucked women with him and had never felt the slightest bit possessive or self-conscious.
But that moment of Lex melting beneath him--that tiny crack in her impenetrable fucking façade--that should have belonged to him alone. Bad enough that he'd been dragged away before he could savor it, but knowing Bren had been witness to it infuriated him.
Fucking irrational, but damned if he cared. "That's what an orgasm sounds like when you do it right, asshole," he snapped, anger turning his tone ugly. "Jas can show you."
He wasn't playing, and they all knew it. Jasper and Mad exchanged an uncomfortable look, but Bren only lowered his gaze. "Message received. Not on the table at all."
Dallas got the message, too. Too far. There was a line between strength and abuse, and he'd been walking the wrong side of it more often than not lately. It was one thing if he needed to be vicious for their safety, but not when it was all about his own stupid pride.
Grinding his teeth, he forced himself to take a breath. "I don't like this. I don't like dragging her into Sector Two, and I don't like having to go there now, when I'd rather be figuring out how to put an end to Gareth Woods. I'm pissy."
"Then you get through it," Jasper said evenly. "As quick and easy as possible. Then you can get on to more important things."
Unless the whole meeting exploded in his face, or they ended up at war with whoever had backed Wilson Trent's attack. Both seemed equally probable, at this point.
What a grim fucking future for him and his newly collared queen. "Recruitment drive," he told Jasper. At least with that rolling, he'd feel like he was preparing for whatever came next. "Make it a priority. When we get back, we'll all sit down and figure out the quickest way to bring up our numbers without taking on any dead weight."
"Yes, sir."
Mad and Bren were still silent and stone-faced. Dallas tried to lighten the mood with a crooked smile. "Cheer up, boys. You're headed to one of Cerys's parties. Expensive pussy and someone might try to stab you. Can't get more exciting than that."
"It's not a party until someone pulls a blade." But there was a rough edge to Bren's voice, with no trace of his usual quirky humor.
Mad stepped into the awkward silence with his easy smile, but Dallas had the distinct impression that Mad was rescuing Bren, not him. "Bren will handle the knives, and I'll take care of the hookers. It'll be a regular shindig. Is that all you needed, boss?"
It was a question, but it also wasn't. Mad had a look in his eyes, a set to his jaw and brow, one that told Dallas that it had better be enough. "Yeah, you two go pack."
They filed out, but Jasper stayed behind, rubbing at his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. "Jesus, Dallas."
The bottom drawer of his desk held rum, whiskey and two glasses. Dallas dropped all of it on his desk and poured himself a triple. "I know, I know. But I thought the bastard would laugh. We've all watched him get off how many chicks in the damn cage alone? What's got him so defensive?"
"Maybe he can take some good-natured ribbing, but doesn't like having his head bitten off."
"Is that what I did?"
Jasper arched an eyebrow. "What would you call it?"
He didn't have an answer for that--not an honest one he wanted to give. Dallas drained his drink and slammed it down. "Fuck, Jas. She's got me turned inside out, and I can't afford that right now. None of us can."
"That's not Bren's fault. It's not mine, or even hers." Jasper rose and shoved his hands in his pockets. "Get it as right as you can before you leave, because if you lose your shit in Two, you make Lex a bigger target than she already is. Truth."
"I hear you." But hearing wasn't enough. Somehow, he had to get a chokehold on his own base reactions, along with the fucking temper that ran too close to the surface where Lex was concerned. "I'll make things right, too. With Bren, with you and your girl."
Jas shook his head. "First order of business--stay alive. Everything else can wait."
Dallas almost laughed. "That's the one thing you don't have to tell me, man. I always stay alive."
"You've never done this before. Watch your back."
"I'll do you one better. I'll let Lex watch it." Dallas smiled wryly. "You don't think she'd let anyone else sink a knife in it, do you?"
But Jasper didn't smile. "No, I don't. I wonder if you do, though."
No, that was one thing Dallas had always been certain of, whether Jasper believed it or not. Lex was fully capable of trying to tear out his heart with her bare hands if she thought he deserved it, but she reserved that right for herself.
And if he didn't get his temper under control, she'd be trying sooner rather than later. "I'll see you after dinner. We can walk the warehouse and check the next shipment."
"I'll take care of it." Jasper turned the knob with a grin. "Bren and Mad aren't the only ones who have to pack." He slipped out and closed the door behind him.
No, they weren't, and they had the easier task. Bodyguards faded into the background. Dallas would be front and center, and he had to look the part. Deadly and uncivilized, the living embodiment of why no one should fuck with Sector Four. Truth in advertising--the only political game he actually liked to play.
He'd done it before, always with Lex's advice. Now he'd have more than that. He'd have her at his side, his dangerous, beautiful queen, and together they could present a united front of strength that should keep anyone from stepping so much as a toe in Sector Four.
Lex juggled the bags in her hands as she opened the door to Dallas's suite. He usually asked for her help with his wardrobe when he had to visit another sector, and this time was no different. It was damn hard to walk the fine line between dangerous criminal and civilized businessman--especially when, by his very nature, he tended to veer toward the rough-and-tumble side of the equation. So he relied on her to put the finer touches on his image, little things that screamed money and class without also screaming, I give two shits what you think.
A noise drew Lex's gaze, and she stopped short just inside the room. The bags slipped from her fingers and hit the floor with a thump.
He usually had her help him pack. What he didn't usually have was a naked woman in his bed.
Six rolled from between the sheets before the door clicked shut, the wide, wild look in her eyes betraying her panic. Her gaze darted from her clothes to Lex and back as she shifted self-consciously, like she was trying to figure out if she could reach the tangle of fabric before Lex reached her.
She looked tensed for a fight. A beatdown.
The spot right behind Lex's eyes had already started to ache, and she pinched the bridge of her nose. "Put your panties on, honey. We've got to have a little talk."
Six lunged for her clothes and held them against her chest as she straightened, her gaze locked on Lex. "Is that code for sticking a knife between my ribs?"
"I don't speak in code. If I wanted you to hurt, you'd know it."
After a moment, Six nodded and wiggled into her underwear and pants. She pulled the shirt over her head last, tugging it down to hide her scarred torso. "You've always been pretty upfront about what you'll do to me if I betray Dallas. Guess you wouldn't bother lying now."
"No reason to. Especially since this whole thing?" Lex gestured to the girl's rumpled clothes. "It's not a threat to me."
She stiffened, and the emotion that finally broke through her desperate attempt at a stoic mask wasn't offense or anger, but a dark amusement. "That
was going to be my argument. I'm not much competition for someone like you."
The words irritated Lex, and she spun away and stalked to the bar. "It's not funny. O'Kane women don't sell out like that. Lesson number one."
Silence greeted the words, stretching long enough for Lex to pour a drink before Six whispered, "I don't have anything else to sell."
"You look able enough." Lex poured a second drink and held it out. "You saying you can't work?"
"I wasn't--" The girl grabbed the glass and drained a double of Dallas's oldest and best whiskey. "I wasn't expecting to stay in his bed. I just needed something to offer now. I needed a trade."
To a man she'd already assumed didn't really want her. "A trade for what?"
She rubbed her thumb over the inside of her wrist, over unmarked skin, as if she could feel the lack of ink there. "Bren said he's leaving tomorrow."
"He is. We're going to Sector Two."
"I wanna go."
It was Lex's turn to smile in dark amusement. "No, you don't. I grew up in Two. You want to stay your ass right here."
Six stared into her empty glass. "I'm not an O'Kane. I'm not saying that to be a smartass, like I don't have to try'n follow your rules. It's just the truth. You might be safer here, but I don't know if I am. Not without..."
"Without Dallas around." Lex plucked the glass from Six's hand and refilled it. "Or is it Bren?"
That put her on the defensive. She muttered a curse and glared at the floor. "He's the one vouching for me, isn't he?"
"Don't be so touchy. I have a right to ask, especially if you think Bren's the one protecting you."
"Isn't he? None of the other guys have fucked around with me."
It made sense for the girl to assume that was Bren's influence instead of standard operating procedure on the O'Kane compound. "Is that what things were like with Trent in Three?"
This time Six sipped the whiskey slowly. "If you weren't his piece of ass, you were anyone's toy," she said finally. "Bren's not the leader, but I see how the guys watch him."
Reassurances were just words, and words meant jack shit. Lex drained her own glass. "Jasper'll be handling things while Dallas is gone. If you're not comfortable going to him and Noelle if you have any problems, then stick close to Rachel. Anyone tries to mess with you, she'll bite his dick off. Good enough?"
Six looked up. "When Dallas brought you in to talk to me after I first got here, I thought he was running some sort of stupid game. That he was an idiot, or took me for one. But he really fucking expected it to work, didn't he? He thought I'd trust you, because all the women trust you."
Lex gave her a slow grin. "Sometimes it takes a while, but yeah."
A flicker of amusement crinkled the corners of Six's eyes before she schooled her features. "You really don't fight over the men? Ever?"
"I didn't say that. People want what they want, even if other people have it." Lex paused to consider her next words. "But we don't lower ourselves. It's beneath you to chase after a man who belongs to someone else."
Six's gaze fixed on Lex's, and she swallowed. "I wasn't chasing him. I just figured--I mean, he's the leader of Four. Even when Trent had a woman, he still took his..." Her lips twisted. "His tax."
"Dallas gets enough ass. He doesn't need to coerce women who don't really want to fuck him."
The younger woman flinched, but didn't try to deny it. She didn't say anything until she'd finished her second drink and offered the glass back to Lex. "I don't get the rules here, and I don't think Bren can teach me the ones I need to know. Can Rachel?"
The truth was stark and uncomfortable. "You'll probably have to pick them up as you go along. But Rachel can get you started."
"All right." She hesitated. "What about Bren? Do you think--?"
Before she could finish her question, the doorknob rattled and Six's teeth clacked together. Dallas pushed open the door, his frown melting into confusion as he took in both women. After a moment of tense silence, he quirked a brow at Lex. "Everything all right in here?"
"Fine." Lex didn't bother with a smile he would see through anyway. "Six was a little worried about Bren leaving. I told her Rachel'll take care of her."
That cleared Dallas's expression. He patted Six on the shoulder like she was a puppy who needed encouragement before moving to pour himself a drink. "That'll be good. Rachel can put you to work in the bar."
Six glanced from Dallas to Lex and back and barely managed to stammer out her agreement before flying out the door. It swung shut smartly behind her, and Dallas sighed and doubled the amount of liquor in his glass. "Do I want to know?"
"Only if a little useless, impotent rage would make your day complete."
"You okay?"
The covers on one side of the bed were still drawn back and rumpled. Lex busied herself with straightening them. "I'm good. Everything arranged for the trip?"
"Just about." He unzipped his jacket and edged a hand inside. "I got you something."
It made her smile, but she had to ask. "Gift or weapon? With you, I never know."
"Gift." He returned her smile and pulled out a black velvet bag embroidered with a familiar logo.
"Stuart's sister." Lex took the bag and rubbed her thumb over the velvet. Stuart made exquisite leather goods, while his sister worked mainly with metal and jewelry, but sometimes they combined their efforts. "Another collar?"
He grunted as he shrugged out of his jacket, his movements too forcibly casual to be entirely at ease. He seemed nervous, and even more so when he spoke. "Whenever the leaders meet in Two, Cerys makes us all suffer through some fancy fucking dinner party with the wives and escorts. Stuart said this'll match that fancy corset he made you a few months ago."
She offered him a smile as she undid the strings on the pouch. "I know the one. Don't worry, we'll both look damn good."
Dallas didn't answer, all of his attention fixed on her face as she slipped the choker free of the velvet. It was breathtaking--a wide strip of supple leather edged with lace and set not only with another pendant like the one she already wore, but also with jeweled chains.
"It's beautiful." And it would have taken weeks to craft, if not months. She met his gaze, unable to keep the question out of her eyes. "Dallas?"
"It'll look good on you," he replied as he sprawled out on the bed. Not exactly an answer, but not an invitation to keep asking, either. "Fit for a queen. Isn't that what they used to say?"
"Yes." She glanced at the couch. It had been on the tip of her tongue to mention that afternoon, to open discussion about the things that had changed between them, but he obviously preferred avoidance. "I know how to handle myself at one of Cerys's gatherings."
"I guess you do." His brow furrowed. "You don't expect trouble, do you? I thought you told me you'd made your peace with her."
Paid her off was more like it. Lex had left Sector Two without earning a dime for Orchid House, which meant she owed them for feeding and clothing her for years. But that money could only be collected if you could be found, and Lex had managed to stay off the radar for years.
Until the leader of the O'Kane gang had plucked her off the street and taken her under his wing. It hadn't taken Cerys long to come knocking, looking for payment, a fact that Lex had managed to keep from Dallas. If he'd known, he'd have ponied up the cash, and her pride never would have recovered. She would have become something else then, another bauble he'd bought and paid for, not a woman standing on her own feet.
Dallas had both hands tucked behind his head, but his easy, relaxed posture was a lie. The look in his eyes had turned dangerous. "Lex?"
"Relax." She laid the bag and collar on the bar and crawled onto the bed. "I've got no problems with Cerys."
"Uh-huh." He extended one arm in commanding invitation. "Cerys will just have to get right with the fact that you're an O'Kane. For life."
Lex curled up beside him, her head on his shoulder and her hand clenched in his shirt. "I don't think she's in danger of forgetting
."
His arm folded around her, tucking her close. He'd never had any trouble with the physical displays of affection, and she knew what would come next. Sure enough, his fingers drifted through her hair a moment later, absently stroking the strands.
"I know you don't like this," he said, quiet but firm. "I don't, either. But I'll be stronger with you there, and you can read Cerys in ways I can't. It could make a difference this time, especially since one of those bastards may have been working with Trent--"
"You're preaching to the choir, Declan." She closed her eyes. "Just...shh."
His chest rumbled with his amused noise, but he went silent. He fondled her hair as his chest rose and fell in slow, even breaths.
They still needed to pack. They still needed to talk. But, for now, the quiet suited her just fine.
Chapter Seven
No matter how many times he visited Sector Two, the one thing Dallas could never get past were the fucking angels on the ceilings.
Every sector enjoyed its own degree of wealth. Four was no exception, and a man who kept carpenters and leather workers busy creating custom sex furniture didn't have a lot of room to judge how other people wasted money. He'd come a long way from scrabbling for food and shelter, and paying for creative sex toys was as frivolous a use of his fortune as Dallas could imagine.
But fuck, at least he had fun with them. The painted angels just glared down at Cerys's guests in prissy judgment, which was rich, considering how the woman had amassed her fortune. No innocents here.
The reminder made him tighten his arm around Lex's waist. "Here we go."
"It's a party," she whispered in response. "Not a firing squad. Everyone's just gonna flash their feathers and compare dick sizes, and you've got nothing to worry about on either count, all right?"
His lips twitched, trying to form into a smile that would surely ruin his glaring barbarian image. "Fine, but it's an insult to fun to call this a party."
"You're above it all," Lex told him firmly as they made their way down the wide marble staircase to the main floor. "If you forget everything else, remember that."