by Kit Rocha
She unwrapped a deep brown fur from around her neck and draped it over the back of a chair at the opposite end of the table. "Mr. O'Kane."
Yeah, she could make a man feel like a misbehaving boy with nothing but the inflection in her voice. Ignoring the twinge, he committed to his rudeness. "You're a long way from home. What brings you south of the fence?"
She stood still but glanced around the room, taking it all in. "I came to talk about Alexa."
He damn near cut off the tip of one finger as his fist clenched. "That so?"
"Don't get all excited." She sank gracefully into a plush, padded chair set against the wall. "You know her as well as I. She's your woman, and happy to be that--for now. But she'll want to do more. Be more."
"Could be." That was how women like Cerys laid traps--with the truth, the bitter, painful truths that niggled at a man. You had to make him bleed before you offered to kiss it all better. "Could be you don't know her half so well as you think."
"It's possible," she admitted. "That's why I'm here instead of talking to Lex."
"Yeah, she'll love that."
Cerys smiled. "No, she won't be happy with me. She does prefer to ignore the reality of her situation sometimes."
Leading words. He wanted to be too stubborn to ask. Wanted to. "And what's the reality of her situation?"
"You own her, and she's not a woman who can be comfortable with that."
"I own Lex exactly as much as she lets me," Dallas replied, baring his teeth in his own sort of grin. "You of all people should appreciate the pitfalls of trying to own Alexa Parrino."
"I do, which is why I now realize that I should have been grooming her for something special." Cerys shifted on the chair and crossed her legs. "I should have been readying her to take over Orchid House."
Well, shit. He hadn't seen that coming. "You getting bored of politics, Cerys?"
For a moment, her serene mask slipped, and she looked tired. "I'm getting too old for the games, O'Kane. The bickering between the sectors, the threats." She shrugged. "I have money. I want to enjoy it."
"And you want to hand your business over to the one that got away?" The perverse part was that it made a sort of sense. The girls who stayed to be trained into docile little puppets wouldn't have the ruthless fire necessary to lead. If he could trust that the weariness he'd seen in Cerys's eyes was truth and not simply another mask.
"I'd still benefit. I'll receive a healthy cut of the profits until I die, that's tradition. The way things are done." Her smile turned cunning. Jaded. "Do you think my predecessor liked me? She loathed me, but she knew I could make money. So here I am."
Still not the right answer. "What makes you think Lex would turn a profit? She doesn't just hate you. She hates what you do."
"For the girls' sakes, of course. So she knows they'll have someone looking out for them."
He thought about Lex's whispered confession, the need to help, and he hated Cerys a little more. Not only for knowing where to stick the knife, but for knowing better than he had. With Lex under his nose day in and day out, he'd still found a way to be oblivious to the need gnawing her up from the inside.
Cerys hadn't. "Even if that pitch worked on her, who says it'll work on me? I happen to like Lex right where she is, not off playing hero in some other sector."
She responded with an unladylike snort. "Right where she is for now, you mean."
"You know some travel plans of hers that I don't?"
"Cut the shit. You know what I'm talking about."
She'd already said it once: Lex would want to do more, be more. The only thing he hated more than this meeting was having it after that fucking fight over the prospects from Three. Lex already wanted to be more. Could Cerys smell that weakness on him? Hear it in his voice?
Fuck that. "Lex is a lot happier as my queen than she would be running a damn whorehouse."
"You say that with such derision, but isn't that what she is? Your whore?" Cerys shook her head. "Perhaps she'd be even happier as your equal."
Rage overwhelmed good sense, and he slammed the knife down on the table. "You watch your fucking mouth, unless you want me to drag you back to the fence by your hair and throw you over it."
She held up a placating hand. "I meant no offense."
"Bullshit, you didn't." Bracing both hands on the scarred wood, he rose and leaned forward, pinning her in place with the force of his anger. "You pretty it up over there. Flowers and nice dresses and training, but you're a pimp, Cerys. A grasping, greedy pimp. If anyone running a brothel in my sector tried to take a third of the percentage you do, I'd let Ace pound their face into the cement. You meant for me to be fucking offended, but you know what? Calling her a whore's still not as big an insult as turning her into you."
Cerys stared back, unmoving. "I've upset you."
Which had probably been the damn point, but he couldn't reel it in. "We haven't even gotten started on how you plan to make her my equal. All the other house heads will just step aside and let you pick the next sector leader, too?"
That got her back up. "Orchid House rules Two. It always has, and it always will."
"Why?" He pressed his advantage, needling her pride. "If you want me to get Lex on board with this, you're gonna have to sell your product a hell of a lot better. What makes Orchid House so damn special? Why should I give a shit about Lex having it?"
She stood. "Save me some time here. Is it a sales pitch you need, or an excuse?"
"A what?"
"An excuse," she repeated mildly. "Something convenient to tell yourself so you feel better about wanting control of my sector."
Oh, he didn't hate her. Hate was too mild a word for this, for his furious embarrassment at having the ugly truth of him stripped bare. She was the dark mirror of Lex, a woman who saw into his heart just as clearly and never gave him any credit at all--because he didn't fucking deserve it.
"I have an excuse," he replied in a quiet, deadly voice. "Getting you out is all the excuse I need. But I need a reason."
"Power," she whispered. "Think of everything you could do with it, yes?"
He could think of one thing Two could give him, beyond their well-trained crafters and hearty business in long-distance trade. "How much juice do you have in Eden?"
A mirthless smile twisted her lips. "How many horny, desperate bastards are there in the city?"
His heartbeat sped. "I'm only interested in one of them right now. Gareth Woods."
The tiny wrinkle in her brow smoothed. She approached the table, lifted the whiskey, and began to pour it. "Interested in him, or in his painful demise?"
"In causing it, mostly." He settled back into his chair and watched her. "What do you really want, Cerys? You'll never be satisfied sitting on a porch swing and counting your money. For once in your life, speak truth to a man. Maybe the results will shock you."
She drained a shot and poured a second before answering. "Do you have any idea how exhausting it is, catering to men? I don't promise to take up knitting or raise cats in my old age, but believe me, Mr. O'Kane. I wouldn't mind being able to tell a few of you fuckers exactly what I think of you."
Dallas laughed as he picked up his own glass. "Now that? Is a motivation I believe. So maybe we can find common ground without giving up hating each other."
"I like the sound of that," Cerys said with a smirk. "I think Lex will, too."
"Why don't we try a deal without Lex first? We both have something the other wants, don't we? Let's start with an alliance of neighbors."
She clicked her shot glass against his. "Agreed."
How to phrase it? No outlandish lies, promising things she'd know he'd never deliver. Just the right amount of opportunity and reluctance. "I'll bring your proposal to my woman. I'll even do my best to see she considers it. But I want a show of good faith in return."
"What you want is Gareth Woods on a silver platter. I understand."
"Access to him." He studied her over the edge of his glass. "He knows
I'm hunting him. He's played a good game at staying out of my way, but I only need to find him once."
"I can make that happen," she assured him.
"How soon?"
She considered it as she finished her second drink. "It'll take a little time. Be patient."
Be patient. Words he hated, but they'd be worth it if he could put a bullet in the head of the man who'd been responsible for Lex's near death. Oh, he'd have to let Jasper come along, since the assassin had been gunning for Noelle. But that kill, that retribution--it would balance the scales. It would be the ultimate proof that no one crossed the O'Kanes and lived. Not a scummy sector leader like Wilson Trent, not a councilman straight out of Eden.
Hell, if he played his cards right, Lex might not ever have to know. Not about the kill, and not how he'd agreed to pay for it. He just had to snatch the bait out of Cerys's trap without letting himself get snared by the promise of power.
"All right," he agreed. "I assume you have a contingency if I can't talk Lex around?"
"She's not my only possibility." Cerys set down her glass and retrieved her fur. "Merely my first choice."
She didn't seem worried about going out on a limb without a guaranteed return, which could mean anything. That it wasn't a limb. That she wanted Gareth Woods dead for her own reasons. Or that she really did believe he had Lex under his thumb.
Or that she was planning to betray him. Dallas had to figure that possibility into his plans. "How far in advance can you send me a location and time?"
"Far enough that you'll be able to get your men into place."
But not so far that he could betray her. He screwed the top back on to the whiskey bottle and held it out to her with a grin. "Why don't you take it with you? That stuff you call liquor in Two could use some bite."
Cerys threw back her head with a laugh. "Thank you, but no. Don't take this the wrong way, but I'd like to be able to deny I was ever here."
That made two of them.
Chapter Nineteen
For the ruthless kingpin of a bootleg liquor operation, Dallas O'Kane lied for shit.
He was even worse at hiding things, though Lex had to admit that might just be her. She'd spent so many years getting to know him, working with him--and yes, frankly, infatuated with him--that she'd memorized his moods. She recognized the tiny shifts in his expression, the way his eyes seemed to change color depending on his moods.
Right now, his mood was foul. Dark. Lex laid down her fork and studied him over the rim of her beer. "You've been quiet."
Dallas didn't lift his gaze from his steak. "Have I?"
Evasion--yet another sign something was wrong. "You have, and I'm starting to think it's about me."
That goaded him into addressing her, but his too-charming Dallas O'Kane grin seemed hollow. "You make me a lot of things, love. Quiet ain't one of them."
"Uh-huh. Gonna tell me what's on your mind?"
"I wasn't planning on it." Sighing, he let his fork clatter to his plate. "Which probably makes me a damn fool, thinking I could pull this off."
She forced herself to relax her fingers and set down her beer bottle. "You're starting to scare me, Dallas, and I don't like it."
"It's not--" He swore and shoved back from the table. "I didn't want you to have to think about it. You've got enough to deal with, helping with the recruiting efforts."
Or he just didn't want to tell her. "What is it?"
Dallas met her eyes, and she knew from the tension in his gaze that the words would be bad. She just didn't realize how bad. "Cerys came to see me a few days ago."
Lex crossed her arms over her chest. "What the hell did she want?" Even as she spoke, she suspected she already knew.
"What did she want, or what did she say she wanted?"
Cut the shit. Lex bit back the words and shivered. "She did it, didn't she? She brought it to you."
He frowned. "If you mean she offered us her sector on a silver platter...yeah. But shit, Lex. I wasn't gonna fall for it. Nothing in life is that easy."
"That's where you're wrong." She shivered again, her chill subsiding into a strange sort of numbness. "What if it was that simple?"
"What, if we could just take over Two and own all of it?" He snorted. "Sure. In that world where puppies shit rainbows, I'd be stupid not to take it. I'd know all the dirty secrets about every bastard in Eden, and you'd have the resources to rescue people from dawn 'til dusk. At least until the other sector leaders wiped me off the map for thinking I could own three territories."
And they'd be right about one thing--he'd be thinking he owned it, not Lex.
She blinked at him, struggling to work through his offhand words and her own raging thoughts. "You say we, but you don't mean it. You'd take over, you'd own three territories. You."
Frustration twisted his features as he pushed himself to his feet. "Fuck, quit nitpicking my words. You're taking my ink. What I own, you own."
"Horseshit." Lex lashed out, knocking her beer bottle over to crash into his plate. "What I own, you own, and you can't turn that around on me. I'm not willing to sell your soul for some damn power."
"Back the hell on up, woman." Ignoring the beer spilling over the edge of the table and onto the floor, Dallas clenched both hands around the back of his chair. Wood creaked, and his knuckles stood out stark and white. "I didn't trade your soul. I didn't even put it on the table."
"Only because you don't think you could get away with it." She stood and held his gaze challengingly. "But you would if you could. You said it yourself--you'd be stupid not to."
"In a world without consequences," he snarled. "You wouldn't be tempted? Not even a little? You could decide how the houses run, and you wouldn't have to be my queen. You could be queen all on your own."
They sounded like Cerys's words from his lips. The perfect justification for why it would all be in her best interests as well as his. She could help, change things. Pretty lies, because no one really wanted things to change. The men in power benefited from the situation, and the women in Two knew nothing else. The only way to really change it would be to burn it all to the ground.
Pretty lies. Dallas had to know that on some level, but he'd still considered Cerys's offer, honestly considered it, and Lex's anger died, choked out of existence by the misery that overwhelmed her.
She focused on a thin sheen of bubbles tracking across the table. "I was fifteen when I left Sector Two. One of the maids told me Cerys had found my buyer--sorry, my patron. So I ran. I lived on the streets. I starved, I stole. I did everything but sell myself because I saw how that went down and I swore it wasn't worth it. Even if I died instead, it could never be worth it." Her eyes burned, and her vision blurred. "Shows what I know. I did it anyway, right? Sold myself."
Dallas exploded.
That was the only word for it. The chair shattered under his hands, and he flung the pieces away, upending the table in the process. Plates crashed and shattered, the bottles clattered and rolled, spilling beer across the carpet as Dallas bit off one word at a time. "You are not a whore."
She stood there in the mess, bits of food and broken glass on her shoes, as the first tears fell. "No, I'm worse. I didn't give you anything as simple as my body." He had her heart, her soul, everything.
Glass crunched under his boots as he took a step toward her, but he stopped with a jerk when she backed away. A scowl twisted his features. "Don't you fucking do that."
It wrenched a laugh from her. "Do what? Cry like a girl?"
"Don't twist everything." He took another step, slow and careful this time. "Don't back away from me like I'm some dangerous animal. You haven't even seen me scary."
She wasn't worried he would harm her--partly because he never had, and partly because no blow could ever hurt as much as his words had.
And if she told him that, he really would lose it. "How?" she asked instead. "How could you ever want to ask me to go back there?"
"Because it's not the same," he snapped, and finally
it was honesty pouring from his mouth. Painful, brutal honesty. "You'd have the power over all of them. You'd be my equal!"
The icy chill seized up, solidified, leaving Lex frozen. Her wrist itched, and she absently rubbed her thumb over the ink marring her skin.
His equal. Someone who brought enough value to the transaction, who was good enough for him. If he'd made those kinds of judgments about her before, he'd never admitted them. But maybe now was different, now that he wanted to do more than collar her.
The leather was suddenly constricting, unbearable. She couldn't breathe, couldn't even think until she reached up and unbuckled it.
Dallas's teeth clacked together. "What are you doing?" he asked too quietly.
The collar fell away in her hand. "If grabbing at power just to have it is what it takes, I'll never be your equal."
"You're doing it again." He wasn't looking at her, not anymore. His gaze was fixed on her hand. On that scrap of leather. "You're looking for a fucking excuse. You're chickening out."
"Oh, honey. I wish I was." She could get angry, yell at him about this like she had the party for the prospects from Three. But she'd hate herself for giving in, because it would only happen all over again. "You have no idea, Declan."
He growled, his hands curling into fists. "So you're gonna walk away over something I didn't even ask you to do? What the hell else would you call that?"
"Don't act like you were thinking about me. You were just trying to figure out Cerys's game." Her voice cracked, and she steadied herself. "Here's the hard truth. It may not be a game. It might be legit. Can you still say you wouldn't ask me to do it?"
He hesitated. Not long, no more than the span of a few heartbeats. But he hesitated, and they both knew it.
The look on his face, hurt and confused, floored her. He still didn't understand, but he would, eventually. He'd know why. But that didn't help as she stood there, collar in hand. Her chest actually ached, which was fucking stupid.
Hearts didn't literally break.
She held out the collar. "Take it. Please."
"No." A storm was brewing behind his eyes, one that would swallow the pain and unleash something far more dangerous. "Not unless you're planning to replace it with my ink."