by Kit Rocha
Liquor didn't work that way. It opened the capillaries, flushed the skin with what seemed like a rush of warmth, but in the end it only hastened the loss of body heat. Especially now, when they were well on their way to winter. It got cold in the desert at night, and for all that Eden had fought to hide the fact with irrigation and reservoirs and carefully cultivated greenery, that was exactly where they were.
"Here," he said, slipping out of his jacket. His blood was still pumping from the fight, but the icy wind cut easily through his thin T-shirt. He could only imagine how chilled she was, huddled against the stone.
He dropped the jacket around her shoulders, and she relaxed into the fabric with a soft moan. "You're so warm. And I'm so stupid. I shouldn't have come up here, but now I can't leave."
It didn't make sense, but she was so wasted it probably shouldn't. Rachel could match any O'Kane drink for drink, which made him wonder how full that bottle had been when she'd come up here. She might have even started drinking while he was in the cage, before he'd claimed victory only to discover a guilt-stricken Ace hitting the whiskey hard enough for it to hit back.
It wasn't a surprise that the two people he cared for most couldn't exchange two words without shredding each other to ribbons. That had been his life forever--the agony of divided loyalties. His orders or his conscience, the sectors or Eden...
Rachel or Ace.
Ace would have to fend for himself tonight. Cruz crouched and held out a hand. "Share the tequila?"
"Take it. My head is spinning." She passed him the bottle, then pressed her palms over her closed eyes. "You talked to Ace."
"He didn't have much to say." It wasn't a lie, because Cruz hadn't needed words to know. The pain in Ace's expression had told him who, and enough of what. Only a fight with Rachel could put that look in the man's eyes.
She changed the subject. "Congratulations on your win. That's a record, you know. I hope you were smart enough to bet on yourself and clean up."
"I've got some cash now, yeah."
She leaned her head back against the brick. "Good."
"Rachel, honey. It's too damn cold to be out here. Why don't you go back to your room?"
"I don't want to be alone." Her eyes fluttered open and fixed on him. "Up here, I'm killing time. If I go home, I'm alone."
The offer hung heavy on the tip of his tongue, but he bit it back. It would be too easy to cross this line. He'd crossed so many others lately, stumbling across them in blind pursuit of pleasure.
He could stumble into her, too, but not like this. Not drunk and sad and shivering from the cold. His words had to be careful, precise. Comfort with no hidden strings, no temptation. "You don't have to be alone. There are plenty of places you could crash tonight."
She smiled--slow, with no hint of amusement. "Everyone feels sorry for me these days."
"I don't think that's true."
"Maybe not. Fine." She reached out. "If you're not going to let me sit here and feel sorry for myself, the least you can do is help me up."
Now it was safe to smile as he straightened and took her hand. "You promise to go somewhere warm, and I'll let you brood all night long."
"I don't want to." She tripped over her feet and pitched against him, bracing her free hand on his chest. "I don't know what else to do. This isn't how things were supposed to turn out."
His lines always blurred when she put her hands on him. But this was the first time she'd touched him since he'd killed Russell Miller, and that had been a turning point. The moment he'd given up on some impossible idea of being a hero.
Of being her hero.
He gripped her shoulders to steady her and ignored the way even that small contact stirred arousal. "Turn out? That's awfully final."
Her fingers tightened in his shirt. "Yes, it is."
Careful. "Your life's not over. Anything could happen tomorrow. You and I both know that better than most."
She looked up at him, her expression serious. Her eyes clear. "I'm glad you're happy. Doubt anything else, but not that, okay?"
He wasn't happy. He was falling, losing himself in vice because fucking and fighting were the only things that gave him a taste of pleasure. But she looked so somber, so fucking sad that only a monster would take that small comfort from her. "All right."
She huffed out a laugh and hid her face against his chest. "You're a terrible liar. Just wretched."
It wasn't funny, but his lips twitched as he gave himself permission to touch her hair. He'd missed running his fingers through it, feeling the slippery blonde strands slide over his skin. It was longer than it had been during their brief time together, long enough that he could imagine wrapping it around his fist--
No. "I'm actually a damn good liar," he said, mostly to distract himself. "Just not with you, I guess."
"Not with me." She arched closer, rubbing her cheek against his shirt. "I miss you."
"Yeah?" His heart kicked into his throat--an amazing fucking feat with all the blood rushing to his cock.
But Rachel didn't respond, and she wasn't just leaning into him for support anymore. He allowed himself a single sigh before scooping her off her feet. She barely murmured as her head tucked itself neatly under his chin.
She'd be feeling the tequila tomorrow, and chances were good she wouldn't remember a damn thing she'd said to him tonight. That was the only reason he let himself speak at all as he carried her toward the stairs.
"I miss you, too."
Chapter Two
Jade didn't like the needles.
Not that she gave any sign--she endured being tattooed with a quiet stoicism practiced enough to be depressing--but Ace knew women. He knew their bodies and all the ways they could tense and tremble, especially when pain was involved.
Jade didn't like the needles, and he didn't like putting the hurt on a woman who already seemed terrifyingly fragile. "You still with me, honey? Last thing I want is a gorgeous lady bursting into tears in my chair."
The corners of her mouth twitched in a whisper of a smile. "You're right, Trix. He's a flirt."
"Told you." The redhead leaned over, bracing her elbows on the table. "It looks good, Jade. Real good."
Usually Trix leaning over anything made for a banner day. The redhead had a killer rack and a wardrobe meant to show it off, and Ace had always enjoyed ogling her tits.
Today, he was too hung over to summon more than a sad echo of his usual grin. "So, you two like to talk about me, huh?"
"Don't start," Trix advised. "You were drunk as shit last night. Even if we wanted to bask in your attentions today, you'd be no good to either of us."
"Baby, I'm an O'Kane. My drunk attentions would still rock your world."
"So I hear."
It was Trix at her sultriest, flashing a knowing gaze and a teasing pout, and he supposed he was lucky she was still talking to him at all. The O'Kane women were harder to get between than an Eden virgin's thighs, which meant he'd been getting a lot of cold shoulders since he'd pissed off Rachel.
Last night sure as hell wasn't gonna fix that.
Swiping the spot he'd just been working on, Ace spent a moment admiring the clean lines swirling across Jade's brown skin. The O'Kane emblem was always the centerpiece of a member's cuffs, but the framing had to fit the person. Trix's were among his favorite--lace and swooping curves, just like her--but something sassy and flirty wouldn't work with Jade.
She was elegant, and she was tough. Lex had hauled the woman out of Sector Five, drugged out of her skull and so past addicted that even Doc hadn't thought she'd pull through. Her fragility was skin-deep at best, an illusion that would fade as her health came back.
No lace for her. Nothing delicate. Strong roots twining around the emblem and twisting down, forming an unshakable base. Strong branches rising above, dotted by tiny leaves. He'd spent most of a sleepless night sketching it, and a good part of the morning refining it.
Yeah, he'd been drunk off his ass, but he was still a fucking genius
.
Jade tensed as he started the next line, her stoicism wavering, and Ace filled the silence quickly. "So, there must be a party in the offing. Noah and Six haven't had their big O'Kane welcome yet, and now you'll be needing one, too." He shot Trix a meaningful look--Help me distract her--before resuming his work.
Trix winked and stroked Jade's hair back from her forehead. "You and Ace should help me convince Scarlet to get her band out here for it. Her bass player's delicious."
"She's delicious," Ace replied, flashing Trix a teasing grin. "Better watch out, Trixie-girl. I bet you're just her type. I heard she likes her girls all pretty and curvy."
Trix blushed. "She's too into power games for me, thanks."
"Everything's a power game," Jade murmured. "Sometimes we don't realize we're playing, and sometimes we're not playing the game we thought...but if there's trust, there's power. And if there's no trust, it's just a more dangerous version of the game."
Trix propped her chin on one hand. "Do you really believe that?"
"Mmm. That's all my training was, at the heart of it. Learning to recognize what game a person wanted to play, even if he didn't know it himself."
An elegant way to put it, but Sector Two trained their courtesans to be refined and clever. Ace's mentor had tailored his lessons to his student, and Ace had learned the blunt version. Almost nobody knows what they really want. Figure it out before they do, and you own them.
Great advice, if you could follow it. The two people he'd trained with had. Jared and Gia could spend five minutes with anyone, man or woman, and know a half-dozen paths straight to their soul. Ace had always preferred games where the rules were set in advance--games where they had to be set in advance, because you couldn't play them if everyone wasn't on board.
Maybe if he'd studied better, he'd know what games Rachel wanted to play.
"What if you love someone?"
Jade hesitated, and Ace glanced up in time to catch a flicker of sadness before she schooled her features again. "I imagine it's a much scarier game with far higher stakes."
He had blunt words for that concept, too--too fucking much to lose. They were the words that pounded through his skull every time he pictured Rachel tied to his bed, naked and hungry and his.
Or, more often than not lately, theirs.
His fantasies about her had never been tame, but they'd flown off the rails since the night he'd gone down on Cruz. That was as far as they'd taken things that night, though they'd tag-teamed Jeni so hard she'd been incoherent with glee for a straight fucking week. She kept begging him to bring Cruz back for another round, but Ace couldn't do it. He couldn't fucking do it.
He wanted Rachel between them. Rachel helping him suck Cruz's dick. Rachel wrapped in chains, bound immobile and groaning around Cruz's cock as Ace laid stripe after stripe of pink across her creamy skin. And that was just the warm-up, the foreplay. They were both shaky-legged innocents, barely dipping their toes into carnal vice. He could drag them into the deep end so fast, so hard.
Too fucking much to lose.
So damn much to gain.
A soft touch on the back of his neck. "Ace?"
Starting, he swiped at Jade's wrist and repositioned her hand for his next set of lines. "What, I'm making art here."
Frowning, Trix stroked her thumb just above his collar again. "You seem worried. Did you hear about Ford?"
Jade sucked in a breath when the needles pierced her skin, but she covered it with a question. "Ford? I don't think I've met him."
"You wouldn't have," Ace replied, mostly to distract her. "Ford's the man with the plan, and all that. Uses his big brains to get us in good with the illegal farms and communes that sell us grain. It keeps him on the road."
"Until he crashes his bike." A cloud of concern darkened Trix's eyes. "Lex said he walked back. Is that true?"
"Nine fucking miles." Ace fought a shudder at the thought of it. Bad enough to go down in a tangle of fire and steel, but to claw your way back to your feet and walk with a broken, splinted leg spiking agony through you with every step? "Doc was furious with him. Dallas, too. He did so much damage walking on it, the regen wouldn't take, and now he has to heal up the old-fashioned way."
"Goddamn stubborn O'Kane men." The gentle hand on his neck softened Trix's words. "You're all impossible."
"That's why you love us." He finished the outline of the O'Kane symbol and glanced up at Jade, who had fallen silent and was staring ahead, her gaze unfocused. "You still with us, Jade?"
"Yes." She hesitated before tilting her head. "I was just thinking... If he needs help while he's recovering, there's a girl--a refugee from Sector Two. I've been hoping to find her a job, something uncomplicated she can do while she gets her feet under her."
Ace could read between those innocuous words easily enough. Something boring to do while she gets whoring out of her head. And he was sympathetic as hell--the mind games they played in Two made his tenure in Eden look mild by comparison, and he'd needed a solid year before he'd been ready to mix money and sex again.
But sending some emotionally wounded waif to play nursemaid to Ford? Might as well find a lion and shove her head between its jaws. "Is she tough?"
"She trained at Orchid House."
Just that, as if it was the only answer anyone needed--and maybe it was. After all, Lex had been trained by the same people. "Well, couldn't hurt to run it by Lex and Dallas. If it matters to you, they'll figure something out." He tapped her wrist. "You're family now, girl."
"We can find her something to do," Trix said resolutely. "Everyone's so busy these days, we need all the help we can get."
"Tell me about it," Ace grumbled, because it was the honest fucking truth. They'd been working too hard since taking over Three. Good work, worth it, and they'd be rolling in the sweet rewards eventually. But it didn't make it any less work.
And it made the time to play so much more precious. Too bad Ace was losing his grip on that, too. Sex worked when everyone followed the rules and knew what to expect, and he couldn't hold up his end anymore. Not with Cruz and Rachel crashing in on him from opposite sides, screwing with his sense of balance.
Something had to give. Soon.
Trix's fingers stroked over his jaw, and he caught the edges of his name in that warm, husky voice of hers. "Huh?" he asked, looking up. "Did you ask me something?"
She laughed and shook her head. "I wouldn't want to interfere with your art." She leaned down and whispered something in Jade's ear.
Too low for him to hear, but Jade's lips curved upward and her gaze flicked over Ace with the sort of assessment he was used to dishing out.
Ace glared at Trix and returned to his work. "What sort of tales are you telling, Trixie?"
It was Jade who answered. "Oh, she just reminded me about a story Noelle told me. About the day she got her ink."
Noelle had started off as such a good, good girl who wanted to be so, so bad. Strapping her into his chair while Jas played with her and the pain got her hot and squirmy had been one of the better afternoons Ace'd had in his studio.
If he didn't flirt, Trix would know something more than Ford's accident had him spun. So he leered at Jade and nudged her leg with his knee. "Just say the word, pretty girl, and I'll strap you down. Trix isn't usually into pussy, but I bet she'd make an exception if you asked real pretty."
Jade laughed, the sort of low, throaty sound that usually set his blood pounding toward his dick. "It's a sweet offer, but pain isn't my vice. And I don't think I'm yours."
Trix's smile was a little sad, as if she'd noticed his heart wasn't in the teasing. "We're not wild enough for Ace these days, that's what I hear."
He glanced up to find Jade watching him, and for one moment those dark eyes could have belonged to Jared or Gia or Lex. All of them had training and instincts, and all of them could peel back a person's armor and see what it hid.
The sympathy in Jade's gaze ached, but she tempered it with another of those dirty-hot laugh
s. "I'd offer to prove you wrong, Trix, but if we start kissing, he's never going to finish my tattoo."
"Not in time for the party," Trix agreed.
"At least it would keep you from trying to be smartasses," he muttered, but he tossed Jade a wink before bending over her wrist again. Maybe he had been working too hard, if he didn't have the energy to work up a good, juicy fantasy about the two of them tangling tongues. A party would fix that. Lots of booze, lots of dancing, lots of people willing to fuck in dark corners--or well-lit ones.
Strong liquor and hard fucking cured most ills. Unconsciousness would cure the rest--for a while, anyway. It would have to do.
For now.
Chapter Three
The night was alive with promise, a throbbing Rachel could feel in her blood, her bones.
It wasn't just the music or the booze. There was something in the air, amid the writhing bodies on the dance floor, something that zinged up her spine anew when she glanced at the couches lining the perimeter of Dallas's party room and caught sight of Ace and Cruz.
Watching her.
A smooth arm slid around her waist, and she caught a flash of wild brown hair before Noelle rested her chin on Rachel's shoulder. "Can I dance with you?"
"Better than dancing alone." And getting distracted by broody, untouchable men. "Where's Jas?"
"He and Mad had one last delivery to make." Noelle's fingertips brushed the skin bared by Rachel's dress, tracing along the leather straps in a teasingly light caress. "This is pretty. You look amazing."
"We're not the only ones who've noticed." Lex stepped up in front of her, and her casual words belied the fire in her dark eyes. The awareness.
Lex's loose, silky halter teased Rachel's exposed skin, and she closed her eyes as she leaned back into Noelle's embrace. She didn't want to think about Ace or Cruz--or Ace and Cruz. She wanted...
Her eyes snapped open, and she laid one hand over Noelle's.
Noelle stilled. "What is it?"