Before the End (Beyond Series Ultimate Glom Edition)

by Kit Rocha

  "Is that what you want?" he asked, keeping his voice low and seductive. "Rachel, all soft and sweet in between us?"

  And then, a glimmer of truth behind the dark eyes and lust. Cruz glanced at the stage, and the hard set of his jaw relaxed a little. "You want to take care of her. You need it as much as I do. This way, no matter the fallout, she'll have someone, right?"

  The fallout.

  Ace should have cared more about those words, the truth of the inevitable ending. Wasn't that the most terrifying part of imagining Rachel as his? He could play her body a hundred ways, bring her up so high the fall would be endless. He knew how to catch her when it was all about physical pleasure.

  Maybe Cruz could catch her when it was something more. And if it all fell apart--

  --when it all fell apart--

  Ace wasn't naïve. His illicit allure would wear thin eventually, and the hero always got the girl. As long as Ace was the only one who came out of it with a bruised heart, the gang would be okay. No ugly fight, no mess to clean up. Cruz and Rachel could have their happy fucking ending, and Ace would drown his sorrow in the sympathy of willing partners. Everyone loved a broken-hearted bad boy.

  Christ, he barely had a heart to break. And the rewards...

  Rachel's moans grew louder, more intense, and Ace looked back to find her watching them with helpless longing. She gave everyone everything, and now she was giving him this, the unvarnished, messy truth of her deepest desires.

  It wouldn't be a fucked-up triangle if they met in the middle.

  It would be straight-up fucking.

  Ace shifted his hand, found Cruz's belt. "How far will you go for her?"

  Cruz hissed in a breath. "Find out." His teeth scraped Ace's ear, then dropped to his neck and closed in a hard bite.

  Pleasure sizzled straight to his gut. No amount of Jeni's begging had convinced Cruz to get sincerely rough with her, but he didn't seem to mind manhandling Ace. Maybe he'd be like that with Rachel, too. Soft and gentle, all strokes and pets that would drive her crazy when Ace mixed in a little pain. They could drown her in alternating sensation, shove her to the edge and woo her back, over and over...

  She was on the edge now. Her gaze had fixed on Ace's hand with fevered need, so trembling and hungry she'd probably come the second Ace wrapped his fingers around the other man's dick.

  Teasing all three of them, Ace stroked his thumb over the well-worn leather before easing it open. Cruz's breathing turned ragged, and he tugged Ace into a hard, desperate kiss.

  Teeth and tongue, that was his style. Rough, and usually that could hold Ace's attention, but he'd never had Rachel ten feet away, moaning her approval.

  Cruz bit him again, a quick nip at his lower lip, and growled. "Watch her," he commanded, "but keep your hands on me."

  "Bossy motherfucker." Jesus, he sounded proud, and maybe he was. Proud enough to obey, dragging Cruz's pants open as he looked back to Rachel. Simply slipping his hand inside wouldn't be enough, not for her, so he eased the other man's cock free and wrapped one hand around it. "I'm not gonna be as gentle as she was."

  "Gentle?" he echoed breathlessly, the word overlaid by Rachel's soft groan.

  Humor and disbelief, which had Ace imagining Rachel with her fist around Cruz, jerking him off with the same impatient tempo he was ready to employ. "No, she wants you too bad to be gentle, doesn't she? Look at her now. She can't take her eyes off your dick."

  "And your hand." Cruz moved, just a little, thrusting against his grip.

  Out on the stage, Rachel came with a shuddering cry. So open, so fucking beautiful, and the audience's shouts didn't bother Ace this time because nothing she was doing was for them.

  Her legs trembled as she rode the orgasm--but she didn't stop. If anything, her hand moved faster, fingers plunging deeper. Ace groaned and squeezed Cruz's shaft hard. "Too bad she's not over here to lick you until you're nice and wet."

  Cruz braced one hand against the wall with a hoarse laugh. "A little rusty on your jerk-off etiquette? Spit in your fucking hand."

  They were standing backstage at the Broken Circle, which meant they could find better lube without taking a step. "Don't be so goddamn barbaric. There's a drawer right there."

  He reached past Ace and dragged open the drawer on the metal cabinet. On stage, Rachel grinned and rolled to her knees, her ass to the crowd. She braced herself on one hand while the other stayed put--fingers curled inside her pussy, the heel of her hand rocking against her clit. Under the lights, her skin glistened with sweat and maybe a little of the oil Cruz pressed into Ace's hand.

  "That's right, angel," he whispered as she watched him spill the oil across his palm. She was too far away to hear him, but next time she wouldn't be.

  God, let there be a next time.

  He gripped Cruz's cock and slicked his hand up and down. He responded by wrapping his fingers around Ace's to guide the pressure and movement--a quick pump, all the way down to the base, followed by a slow, leisurely glide back up to the tip. Cruz shuddered, his shaft growing harder with every stroke.

  "Not too fast," Ace warned, swiping his thumb across the crown when their fingers reached the tip again. "You time it just right, maybe you can come all over those gorgeous tits."

  Cruz groaned, his hand squeezing tight for the span of a heartbeat. "Fuck."

  "You like that, do you, brother?" Maybe his dirty words worked on Cruz after all. "She'd still be an angel, you know. Even with come all over her face and her lips swollen from sucking you off, she'd be my sweet angel. Everything they told you in Eden was bullshit. Sex is messy, not dirty."

  "Can't be both?" Cruz gritted his teeth, but his hips jerked whenever Ace moved his hand.

  "Not until you're sure dirty's not bad."

  He opened his eyes to watch Rachel as she rocked and swayed on stage. "Nothing about her is bad," Cruz murmured. "Maybe nothing about you, either."

  "Maybe," he agreed, a friendly lie because he couldn't give less of a shit about the truth right now. Cruz's cock was hard under his hand and Rachel was headed for a big finish, her lips parted, her breaths panting.

  Teetering on the edge, because they were already playing the game, even without discussing the rules. "Tell her to come," he told Cruz, stilling his hand. "Watch what happens."

  Tense. Hungry. But before he could open his mouth to form the command, Rachel tipped over the edge with a stifled shriek. She bucked and shivered, fucking her hand until the shudders faded and she collapsed to the polished wood.

  Spent. Helpless. The roar of the audience smashed into Ace, shifting pleasure to spiky hot rage. He leaned forward to wrap his hand around the rope that controlled the curtain and jerked hard, swinging it into place and cutting Rachel off from the world.

  The cheers shifted to disappointed shouts and one or two boos, and Ace didn't give a fuck. They'd go back to drinking soon enough, or Six would smack their heads into the stage until they learned manners.

  Ace didn't give a fuck about that, either. The whole damn world could burn itself to the ground, as long as no one interrupted this moment. Rachel, sprawled naked and sated, her sleepy gaze following Ace's hand. Cruz, tense and hard, his rough breaths falling against the side of Ace's neck.

  "Forget about coming on her," he said, speeding his strokes. "Come for her."

  Cruz groaned and parted his lips. His tongue stroked over Ace's skin, a fraction of a second before his teeth closed in another bite. Pain slid over him in a fiery wave, but Ace didn't let it distract him.

  The bite turned into rough suction, and Cruz held on, moaning desperately as he stiffened. His cock throbbed, heavy and hot, and he came with a grunt that melted into a shuddering sigh as he spurted onto the floor.

  Ace stilled his hand and watched as Rachel touched her hand to her trembling lips. She sat up, came to her knees, and crawled a half step toward them--

  "Ace! Cruz!"

  Jasper's voice, and it shattered the spell around them. Cruz jerked away, fumbling for his pa
nts, and Ace wasted a precious moment hating his old friend.

  Jasper rounded the corner backstage and drew up short when he caught sight of the three of them. "Rachel." He nodded, then turned his attention to Ace and Cruz. "We're rolling out. Mad found another still."

  Cruz scrubbed his hands over his face. "Bootleg O'Kane liquor?"

  "Looks like."

  Ace had too damn much experience getting his dick under control, and it was still a struggle to shift gears. He had to shift gears, because if Mad hadn't just burned the place to the ground, it meant complications.

  Complications meant danger. "Where is it?"

  "Way the hell over in Three." Jas shoved his hands into his pockets and took a step back. "Meet us in the garage. Five minutes."

  Jas vanished, and Ace blew out a rough breath and rubbed a hand over his face. "I guess the good life has a price. You okay, angel?"

  She'd already reached for her robe. She slipped her arms into it and rose up to kiss him, soft and quick. Then she turned to Cruz and did the same. "Be careful. And I'll be here when you get back."

  Cruz grabbed her hand. "Rachel--"

  "It'll keep." She glanced back and forth between them. "I mean it. Watch yourselves out there. Come back to me."

  The other man was still staring at her, conflicted and clearly reluctant to leave, so Ace caught him by the back of the shirt. "Come on, lover boy. Clear your head on the way to the garage. It's time to make war."

  One look at the shack beside the half-collapsed factory, and Cruz knew this couldn't be the base of operations.

  At first glance, it was just like the one he and Bren had stumbled across the first time--small, nondescript, hastily assembled. But those things had been a cover, a way to hide the real treasures within. This one didn't even have a sophisticated lock on the door, and he'd stake his life on the certainty that the interior would reflect that. Sparse and minimalist, the product picked up as soon as it was bottled, with only the necessary supplies on hand and no surplus.

  They'd changed their game plan.

  Resources were a precious commodity--when he'd seen their lack at the first location, he'd assumed that was all they had. But no one who had lost everything would have been able to set up a second location this quickly. And from the looks of things, instead of wasting time and money this time around, they'd accepted the inevitable.

  It was brilliant, insane--temporary stills that popped up out of nowhere. Unprotected and totally disposable, like the men running them. Dallas could swat them down as fast as he wanted, and it wouldn't do a damn bit of good. One batch of passable swill in counterfeit O'Kane bottles could pay for the whole operation. Everything after that was a bonus.

  Jasper kicked at a broken crate near the door. "Bets on whether it's outfitted the same as the last one?"

  "No deal," Ace drawled, crouching to retrieve a crumpled piece of paper. He smoothed it out to reveal a label, too crooked to be useful, but otherwise a pretty close approximation of the legitimate design.

  To Cruz, at least. Ace scowled, glaring down at it. "They could have at least gotten someone who could trace in straight lines. I'm fucking offended."

  Bren returned from his recon around the building. "Truck out back. Either they parked it here, or there are men inside."

  Jasper shook his head. "They wouldn't leave it unattended. Only question is how many bodies."

  "Not enough." Mad was checking the sheaths on his wrists, a tight smile curving his lips. "The building's not big enough for a still and a dozen guys, and that's what it'd take. The five of us can handle it."

  Jas nodded, satisfied. "Bren, you and Cruz take the back. Mad, Ace, and I will go knock on the front door and say hi."

  Ace straightened, still looking murderous and distracted, and the first twinge of anxiety stirred in Cruz's chest. He'd started something they hadn't been able to finish, opened that door Ace had been pounding on forever.

  God only knew what lay on the other side. The three of them in a tangle of sweaty, naked limbs, fucking in configurations Cruz was still ashamed to have dreamed up. Probably fucking in a few he couldn't have dreamed up.

  On his own.

  And now he was thinking about naked bodies when he needed his head on straight. Worse, he didn't like following Bren around the side of the building. Ace was out of sight--and Christ, it wasn't like the man was helpless. He'd been navigating more dangerous situations than this long before Cruz came along, keeping himself safe with his wits and a ruthless edge.

  Bren took up position at the back door, and Cruz fell in next to him, forcing his focus to the task at hand. "Where do these guys come down on the scales of O'Kane justice?"

  "You mean, are we warning them or killing them?"

  He remembered the last time, barging in on men who honestly thought they were working for O'Kanes, nearly getting his ass blown off. Killing them had been instinct, a survival response that had come too easily.

  Not knowing whether or not he cared made trying to give a shit that much more important. "They could be dupes."

  "Could be," Bren agreed. "Minimize the carnage at initial contact, and we'll follow Jas's lead. Good?"

  Just follow orders. The easy way out, and he'd taken it for a hell of a lot longer than Bren had. The time was coming when he'd have to decide if he trusted Dallas O'Kane enough to just follow orders.

  It was coming, maybe, but not here.

  A crash sounded at the front, and the time for thinking was over. Bren burst through the door, gun raised, and Cruz had his back, like he had a hundred times before. They knew the rhythm of this. How to clear a room, how to divide and conquer.

  Bren thundered down the short hallway and cleared the corner as the first shots echoed through the cavernous building. Cruz followed in time to see Jas and Mad take cover behind a stack of packed crates.

  "It's O'Kane's men!" The harsh shout came from the metal catwalk crisscrossing the walls above them. "Take 'em out!"

  So much for that question.

  Cruz had always preferred close combat, hand-to-hand. There was something raw and satisfying about it, a primal thrill he'd never felt with a ranged weapon.

  But sometimes a gun was the only smart move. Cruz's was in his hand without thought. Everything inside him was calm, sharply focused. His gaze found the first target--two men firing on Mad--and his finger was already squeezing the trigger before the thought had fully formed.

  Two bullets. Two dead men. The rest of the guys hadn't even realized the enemy was coming at them from behind when Cruz lunged to the side, trying to get an angle on the men in the catwalk.

  Instead he caught a glimpse of a man with a knife lunging toward Ace's unprotected back.

  Clarity shattered. The steady beat of his pulse turned into a pounding roar, and the chaos of the room crashed in around him. Shouts and curses, shots and grunts, sounds of pain and men fighting and dying. His feet moved, carrying him forward, into the crossfire.

  But Ace was already turning, gun in hand. He didn't even look worried as he squeezed off two rounds, both at close enough range to blow out the back of his attacker's head.

  Stupid. Stupid. Ace knew how to handle himself in a fight. Cruz was the one fucking up, darting out from full cover in a fucking panic, not trusting his brothers to have shit under control. He checked his advance and lunged to the side--too late.

  Fire bloomed across his ribs, a graze that could have been lethal if he'd been a fraction of a second slower. He made it behind another stack of boxes and pressed a hand to his shirt. It came away bloody, a silent recrimination.

  He'd been fast enough this time. If he couldn't keep his shit together when the bullets started flying around Ace, next time might be a different damn story.

  Chapter Six

  Rachel had never been the one at home, waiting out an O'Kane raid.

  If she'd realized how difficult it would be, how worry could stretch the seconds into minutes and the minutes into hours, she would have found some way to oc
cupy herself from the start, even if she had to manufacture a task. But it was only after her shower and two solid hours of sitting, perched nervously on the edge of her sofa, that she fled her room in search of distraction.

  She went to the place she knew best--the bar.

  Trix greeted her with a smile and an open bottle of beer. "You gonna help clean up?"

  "Yeah, why not?" Rachel set aside the beer and grabbed a broom.

  Zan, the regular bouncer, grinned over his shoulder as he lowered the solid wooden bar across the front door. "Chase Six around the room while you're at it. Girl's wound tighter than Dallas in a church."

  "I won't be any help with that tonight."

  Trix grinned as she turned chairs up onto the tables. "So it's true, then?"

  "Is what true?" Six came out of the back room and hopped onto the bar before waving her middle finger in Zan's direction. "And I heard that, bastard."

  He laughed, his usually gruff demeanor gone now that there were only O'Kanes in the room. "Ace and Cruz were backstage when Jas went looking for them. Backstage watching Rachel dance."

  Trix abandoned the chairs and wrapped her arms around Rachel. "I'm not teasing," she promised. "I think it's perfect."

  Perfect? Rachel barely knew what it was, and she sure as hell wasn't ready to talk about it. That moment backstage felt so fragile, as if the slightest wrong move could dissolve it all like smoke. "It's not..." Words failed her, and she tried again. "I mean, I don't--"

  "Message received." Trix gave her one last squeeze and backed off. "I get it."

  Zan leaned against the bar and wrapped a huge hand around Six's ankle, stilling the anxious bounce of her foot. "Don't even think it, girl."

  Guilt flashed through the brunette's eyes, then vanished with her scowl. "I don't know what you're talking about."

  "Sure. You're not sitting there wondering if you can give us the slip and trot over to Three to back up your boyfriend. And you can't. Hell, unless there's a fucking army there, Cruz, Bren, and Mad together are already overkill."