by Kit Rocha
“Never.”
“Ever had a real empanada?”
She turned in his arms to stare up at him, and all that hope was back in her eyes, along with a radiant curiosity. “No, I don’t even know what that is.”
“That’s a damn shame.” If he leaned down a few more inches, her mouth could be under his. He could be kissing her, picking her up and dropping her on his desk. Instead, he took a step back. “Get your coat.”
For a flattering moment, she remained frozen, braced against the desk as if she’d been imagining the same thing. Her fingers traced back and forth over the wooden surface as her gaze swept up his body before fixing on his.
When she smiled, it lit her face with mischievous delight. “Are you going to take me for my first ride, Ford?”
“Uh-huh.” He smiled back, slow and wicked. “But first, we’re going for a spin on my new bike.”
A quick, hard ride on Ford’s desk would have satisfied her body, but a slow, easy ride on his bike healed her soul.
Maybe it was a whimsical thought, but there was more to the magic than the rumbling power of the bike between her thighs and the pleasure of snuggling up tight against Ford’s back. The road stretching out ahead of them felt like freedom, even with the wind catching at her clothes, trying to hold her back.
It couldn’t. Nothing could hold her back, not with Ford beside her.
Right now he was in front of her, blocking most of the wind with his massive shoulders. He’d spun them around the block a few times to let her get used to the feeling of being in the seat before gunning it for the edge of the sector, and Mia watched civilization fall away on either side of them. Well-kept buildings gave way to shabbier ones, which gave way to makeshift shelters built from whatever supplies their owners could find.
Sector Two was contained, enclosed inside a wall guarded by Cerys’s carefully trained soldiers. Sector Four seemed to sprawl outward forever. There were even nicer buildings going up in the emptier spaces, wooden houses on neat lots, showing signs of care and effort.
She’d always known people flocked to Sector Four, and now she understood why. Dallas O’Kane was a benevolent dictator peddling hope, and nothing was at a higher premium these days.
They shot past the last line of buildings, and then freedom was more than just a feeling. It stretched out in front of them for endless miles, a cracked asphalt road disappearing into the distant horizon. And then Ford turned in a wide arc and they left even the road behind, speeding over the packed dirt as the wind stole her delighted laugh.
Maybe if they rode far enough, fast enough, the wind would rip away all the parts of Sector Two still clinging to her heart.
Ford was warm against her body, and she nestled closer as he pointed the bike toward a small cluster of buildings, more solid than most of the other shacks they’d passed. People milled around outside, shading their eyes to watch as she and Ford grew closer.
A settlement.
They coasted to a stop, and Mia pulled off the battered helmet Ford had found for her. It was easier to see without it, and there was so much to look at. Everything around her was makeshift but efficient—old train cars had been arranged so the backs formed part of the animal pen, and someone had hauled the seats out of a dozen cars and arranged them around a fire pit.
The adults were still watching them, silently respectful, but a little girl who couldn’t have been more than ten broke away from her mother with an excited cry. “You got a new bike!”
“Sure did.” Ford shut off the engine, kicked down the stand to stabilize the bike, and looked down at the girl. “Rachel just finished fixing it up for me. You like it?”
“Uh-huh.” The girl circled the motorcycle, her big eyes transfixed. “I’ll watch it for you, if you want. Are you here to see Dad?”
“Don’t touch the exhaust,” Ford warned as he climbed off the bike. “We’re here to see your Aunt Lise.”
“She’s out back in her studio.”
Mia slipped from the bike and set the helmet on the seat, hiding a smile as the girl shifted her weight from one foot to the other, nearly dancing with impatient energy. Sure enough, the words burst out before Mia had made it two steps away. “Hey, Ford! I can sit on it, right? I won’t break it.”
Ford tilted his head. “Depends. Does Shorty have anything left over in his truck from lunch, or did you greedy monsters wipe him out?”
The kid might have been small, but her shout echoed off the mountains. “Shorty! Ford wants some food.”
A man with black hair, black eyes, and golden skin stuck his head out of the closest vehicle, an ancient delivery truck with peeling paint and a large window cut out of the side, and grinned widely. “Ford, you tough old bastard. Get over here.”
Mia followed as Ford crossed the dusty clearing. Not so much as a hint of his limp showed in his careful but confident stride—not out here, not from the moment they’d set foot off O’Kane grounds.
No weakness, not in front of strangers.
Thank God she’d borrowed the clothing from Nessa. In the jeans and boots and wrapped tight in her new leather jacket, Mia wasn’t presenting her version of perfection, but she could tell the image was the right one by the way the adult gazes followed her. More than one flicked to her wrists, and they’d made it most of the way to the trailer before she realized they were checking her for O’Kane ink.
Shorty braced his elbows on the dented metal ledge that had been welded onto the truck’s makeshift window. “I got empanadas left, and some beans and rice. Who’s the pretty lady?”
“This is Mia. She’s a friend of Lex’s.”
“For a friend of Lex’s, lunch is free.” The cook grinned at her, and the expression looked right on his sun-weathered face. He had wrinkles, as if he smiled all the time. “It’s been months since Lex came to visit. If you’ve got time, I can whip up a batch of tamales to take back to her. Tell her we miss her.”
“Will do.” Ford accepted the two beers Shorty passed through the window and tilted his head toward an empty wooden table nearby. “Let’s have a seat.”
The beer was ice-cold and far more bitter than the bottle she’d tried at the bar, but she took two long sips anyway, because trying new things felt like part of the adventure. And it was an adventure again—an even more exciting one than before.
Ford had given her that.
She smiled at him as she rubbed a thumb along the neck of the bottle. “Are there a lot of places like this? Not in the sectors, but not out in the communes, either?”
“Depends on where you go—and who’s in charge.”
“Is Dallas in charge all the way out here?”
“Yeah.” Ford looked around, taking in the landscape, then gestured back in the direction of the city. “Technically, the sector border ends a ways back, but Dallas is a good leader. Tough but fair. He’ll protect them, and he doesn’t want trouble. That’s enough to make the people here want to follow him.”
They hadn’t come far enough for the city to fall out of sight, though the dips and curves of the hills cut off the view of the sectors. From here only Eden was visible, the tops of the walls and the buildings that rose above them, some thirty or forty stories high. The sun caught the steel and reflected off windows, making the whole thing look like a desert mirage.
Eden, the impossible city. She’d lived in its shadow for so long that it felt disorienting to see it like this—a lonely cluster of buildings on the horizon, isolated in the middle of endless nothing.
The world was so much bigger than she’d ever dreamed.
It didn’t take Shorty long to bring the food, and the empanadas turned out to be spicy meat encased in a flaky dough that melted on her tongue. She ignored proper etiquette and a lifetime of rules about when and how a lady ate, breaking off pieces with her fingers and making approving noises that weren’t even a little bit seductive. “Why don’t you have these for lunch all the time?”
Ford watched her, the corner of his mouth turned up
in an easy smile that belied the heat in his eyes. “Because then it wouldn’t be special.”
“I don’t believe you. You could eat these every day and they’d still be special.”
“That’s the truth, because I do eat them every day,” said a new voice, and a pretty brunette with battered jeans, a messy ponytail, and a leather apron dropped into an empty chair. “Ford, good to see you out and about. I heard you were looking for me.”
“Mia, this is Lise.” He wiped his mouth with his napkin and pulled his cigarette case out of his pocket. “She makes jewelry.”
“Among other things.” She held out her hand. “Nice to meet you.”
Mia held out her own hand as the connection fell into place. “Stuart’s sister? I think I saw some of your work in the market when Trix took me shopping for my coat. You’re very skilled.”
“Thanks.” Lise slanted a sidelong look at Ford before smiling. “So what can I do for you?”
Mia slipped her locket out of her pocket and set it on the table. “I know it’s not much, but it means a lot to me. Ford said you’d be able to find a new chain.”
“You need more than that.” Lise flicked her thumbnail over the loop at the top of the locket. It was bent and twisted, one side broken clean through. “But I can fix it. You’ll be here for a while?”
Ford grunted in confirmation.
Lise rose. “Consider it done.”
And that was that. Lise swept away, locket in hand, and Mia only briefly considered asking about money before letting it go. For all she knew, Lise would perform the task for free because Ford was an O’Kane, and that meant something even out here.
“Thank you,” she said instead, slipping her hand over his. “For this. For everything. Just...thank you.”
He turned his hand, his fingers twining with hers, but he remained silent for so long she thought he wouldn’t speak. Then he met her gaze. “It’s important to you. That makes it important to me.”
Oh God.
It was unfair, really. The man should have to work for it—a wink or a smile or something—not just sit there staring at her with dark eyes and a stony expression that turned her flight toward freedom into a dizzying, exhilarating fall.
He’d catch her every time, and all she had to do in return was let him. Let him be her safety net, let him sand off the rough, uncomfortable parts of freedom. It wouldn’t have to be like Sector Two all over again. She could be like this settlement—giving her loyalty freely because she got so much in return.
Ford would demand plenty. He’d sweep through her life on a wave of protective fury, giving her all the things he wanted her to have, washing away anyone who threatened her. She could only imagine the games he’d play with her in bed—her body heated at the thought of being at his mercy. He’d be possessive and bossy and exasperating, all three, every day.
But he’d give back a hundred times what he took. He’d give her affection and pleasure and a chance to use her wits and her brains and her skills for something bigger than herself.
He’d care, and that was the oddest feeling of all. Being cared for.
He was still watching her, handsome and brooding and perfect, so she leaned in and lowered her voice to a whisper. “Watch out, Derek. I’m starting to suspect you like me a little bit.”
Instead of answering, he lifted her hand and brushed a kiss across her knuckles.
Oh yeah. She was falling. And she never wanted to stop.
Chapter Nine
Dallas O’Kane’s weekly fight night should have been as far from the sedate civilization of Sector Two as it was possible to travel, but being surrounded by O’Kane women as they gossiped and cheered was like coming home.
Lex had recreated the best part of Sector Two, stripped of competition and desperation. Sisterhood, raw and pure, and Mia was drunk on it from the moment Nessa dragged her down to a couch.
“Just wait,” Nessa promised, passing her a shot glass. “These are just some punk kids warming the place up. Wait until our boys get in the cage. Jas or Bren or Cruz...”
“Cruz is busy,” Lex corrected, grinning. “He disappeared into Ace’s room with Rachel—and locked the door behind him.”
“Ace is missing fight night? Shit. The sex must be supernova hot.” Nessa snatched up a shot of her own and knocked it back before giving Mia an expectant look. Remembering the last time she’d hit the whiskey too hard, Mia took a sip.
A small one.
She nearly spit it back out again when Noelle appeared. Most of the O’Kane women owned a style that could best be described as sex edged with danger, but Noelle had abandoned the leather and denim she’d worn while working the bar in favor of the sort of dress a Rose might wear—lacy, white, and short enough to flash the delicate garters sitting high on her thighs.
Noelle looked like innocence begging to be debauched, and the glint in her eyes as she dropped into Lex’s lap proved she knew it. She kissed Lex’s cheek before grinning at Nessa. “Don’t worry, Jas is fighting later, and Bren’s getting in the cage in a little bit. Mia will have the full O’Kane fight night experience.”
But Ford wouldn’t be fighting. He was leaning against the wall near the bar, his attention trained on the two men brawling in the cage. Her heart beat faster when she looked at him, and not just because he was gorgeous even in jeans, his shirt stretched tight over every perfect muscle in his chest and shoulders.
He still hadn’t taken her. The tension stretching out between them had skittered past anticipation that afternoon, settling low in her body as an ache that wouldn’t ease until he was inside her, stoking a different sort of need.
But Nessa had been waiting for them in Ford’s office, touchingly excited to offer Mia her spare bed for as long as Mia wanted to stay...and Ford hadn’t murmured a word of protest. He’d even seemed eager to have her safely settled elsewhere.
So she’d gone, because perhaps he wanted her to know her safety wasn’t tied up in his bed. He wanted her to come back because she wanted to, not because she had nowhere else to go.
Or maybe he’d just wanted to get her out of his hair. That was the possibility that kept her rooted to the couch instead of crossing the crowded room to talk to him.
“Mia!”
Fingers snapped in front of Mia’s face, and she started, turning to look in Nessa’s direction. Her gaze snagged on Lex and Noelle, who were stroking each other in a way that brought a flush to Mia’s skin. Casual physical affection—another perk of living in Sector Two, one she’d lost when she’d left Orchid House for Vaughn’s sterile, lonely estate.
Nessa laughed and nudged Mia with her shoulder. “Don’t mind them. They’re just real friendly.”
“I don’t mind at all.” Mia met Lex’s gaze and smiled. “It’s a little like home. The good parts of it.”
“Mmm.” Lex blinked innocently. “They don’t have men like Ford in Sector Two, though.”
No, they really didn’t. She snuck another peek at him, tracing the line of his jaw and the stern set of his brow. He always looked so serious, but she’d learned to find the warm places in him, edges that softened just for her. “Is this something he did before the accident? Fight in the cage?”
“Nah, he hasn’t been around much. Hopefully that’ll change now.”
“That’s the plan anyway,” a new voice rumbled, and Mia followed a pair of leather pants up to a wide belt buckle, and over endless skin covered in beautiful tattoos before reaching Dallas O’Kane’s eyes.
She knew it was him, even though this was the first time she’d laid eyes on Sector Four’s infamous leader. There was no one else it could be—and not only because everyone within twenty feet was slowly turning, as if his mere presence drew them in like gravity. The tattoo that stretched across his collarbone and climbed up his throat was a stylized version of the O’Kane logo beneath an intricate crown—the twin of the one Lex wore, and decorated with her name.
He held out a hand, and Lex dragged him down into a hungry kiss. T
heir tongues flashed, but it was Noelle who moaned, low and shaky—and Mia realized that Lex and Dallas’s joined hands had slid up under the woman’s dress.
It was shameless, casual and easy, as if it happened all the time—and maybe it did, because Nessa rolled her eyes and did another shot. “That’s how Lex and Dallas say hi. You get used to it.”
Dallas laughed and slipped his hand out from under Noelle’s skirt. Even in the uncertain light, Mia could see that his fingertips were slick with arousal. He traced one over Noelle’s parted lips with a smile. “You sure got used to it, didn’t you, kitten?”
Noelle nipped his finger. “Only when it gets me in trouble. Have you met Mia yet?”
That dark, dangerous gaze swung toward her, and for the first time in her anything-but-innocent life, Mia felt utterly out of her depth. Sex was everywhere in Sector Two. Affection between the girls, training in the houses, provided to patrons. She knew chapter and verse when it came to vices, lists of sexual positions, and techniques that had seemed dry and impersonal, even when she was watching them play out before her.
Chilly. Everything in Two had been cool, calculated. Heat radiated off Dallas and Lex and everyone around them, and Mia’s heart raced out of control as she struggled for a casual tone. “I’m honored.”
“Are you, now?” Dallas straightened slowly. “I hear you’ve been turning Ford’s life upside-down.”
Nerves left her lips numb, as if she’d had as much to drink as Nessa instead of one tiny sip. This was Dallas O’Kane, the man whose viciousness and ruthlessness kept everyone in the sector safe. And he was staring down at her, his fingers still thrusting between Noelle’s lips with an absent-minded lewdness that bordered on obscene.
No, it was obscene. And it was making that hungry ache inside Mia worse.
She wet her lips and hid her nervousness with a bright smile. “I don’t know about his life. Mostly his filing system. I can’t believe he was wasting his time with paper records.”
The wrong words. Mia’s heart stopped as Dallas’s face twisted into a scowl—an intimidating, terrifying scowl that slammed down on her like the weight of the entire sector. She barely heard Noelle erupt into giggles—the sound was meaningless with all that danger and irritation burning through her.