by Kit Rocha
Reluctantly, she met those dark, too-damn-knowing eyes, and felt naked under the force of his stare. No wonder her father had hated this man. No one with selfishness and cowardice in their hearts could meet his gaze for long.
"I'm not your father," Dallas rumbled, as if he could pluck the thoughts from her mind. "I'm not about to hand you over to one of my men just because he wants you. If I ever seemed tempted, Lex would lovingly stab the fuck out of me."
Startled, Tatiana looked at Lex.
The woman rose. "No more questions. We'll find you a room. If you need it, great. If you don't, that's good, too."
Dallas released her, so Tatiana stood, as well. "Thank you."
He waved that off. "Pull this off for us, darling, and we'll be thanking you."
An unsettling—but shamefully appealing—thought. Dallas spread the fantasy of loyalty like a plague, and the only way to shake free of its effects was to get out of his presence.
She followed Lex into the hall. She thought Zan might be waiting for her, but the corridor was deserted, and so was the stairwell at the end of it.
Lex took three steps, then stopped and turned to Tatiana. "You cut your deal. I want to make sure you know what it means."
Tatiana stilled. "Okay."
"It might not work," she pointed out. "Then you'll be stuck on our side, no matter what. So here's my advice to you—make sure you want to be here, independent of any agreement you may have worked out with Dallas."
"I'm loyal," she said quickly. Too quickly. It sounded defensive and hollow, because loyalty wasn't something you proclaimed. It was something you proved, and she never had—because it had never felt like she could.
Her gaze fell to Lex's wrists—and the ink there. O'Kane cuffs—and she'd been the first woman to wear them. But she had more ink around her throat, ink that made her more than just an O'Kane. It made her Dallas's O'Kane.
"The way I see it, your potential allegiance is directly tied to whether you believe in what we're doing." Lex crossed her arms over her chest. "Do you?"
She wanted to. Just like Zan, only worse, because with Zan she could blame her hormones. How many stupid, hungry young men had her father recruited with dreams of safety and riches? "I'm trying. Maybe I've seen too much of the ugly side to be good at it."
"Then you're not ready," Lex said simply. "I guess you'll have to have faith that everything will work out, honey."
Faith was the last thing she had. No, the second-to-last. The last thing she had was options. Even her adrenaline was failing her. Her body ached. So did her heart.
And Zan wasn't waiting for her. The O'Kanes weren't going to make it easy—or inevitable. If she crawled back to him, she wouldn't be able to tell herself he'd forced her into it.
"Do you think Zan is in his room?" Her voice was steady. Calm, like she wasn't falling apart.
"No. I think he's down in the warehouse."
"Can we go there first?"
Lex's voice gentled. "Because you want to see him, or because you want to yell at him?"
She probably should, or at least want to. But her rage had fizzled out along with her adrenaline—or maybe she just wasn't that big of a hypocrite. She was about to do far worse to Catalina than he'd done to her. "Because I'm tired."
Lex stared at her for a moment, then patted her arm as she brushed past her. There was an exterior door under the stairwell, and she pushed it open. "Straight across the courtyard," she told Tatiana. "The red doors. Can't miss ‘em."
Tatiana recognized it—the warehouse where the O'Kanes held their fight nights. She crossed the cracked, gravel-strewn pavement, tense until she pushed through the side doors.
And then she was tense for a different reason.
Zan was slamming his bare fists into a large, patched boxing bag. He'd stripped to the waist, and his muscles tensed and flexed as he lunged, moving his entire body with every vicious blow.
He was so glorious, he stole her breath.
The door slipped from her grip, swinging shut with a clang that reverberated through the empty space.
He hesitated with his fist drawn back as he glanced toward the door, then resumed the volley of punches. "How'd it go?"
"All right." She circled him, until she could see the harsh line of his profile as he landed blow after blow. He looked apprehensive. Wary.
Well, she had threatened to stab him if he touched her again.
"Get everything sorted out with Dallas and Lex?"
"We made a deal." She hesitated, his bland disinterest striking a deeper fear. He'd fucked her with so much raw passion, she'd almost forgotten the possibility that it was all a lie. Maybe she'd been the one building fantasies about him, and he'd only been doing his job.
He struck the bag one last time and caught it as it rebounded. He stood there, his chest heaving and slicked with sweat, not looking at her. "What kind of deal?"
"He's going to take down Wallace and get my sister out." Tatiana closed her eyes. "And I'm going to tell everyone what happened today, and what Wallace wanted from me."
"And afterwards?"
She found out whether or not she could still run a business. Whether or not she still had a sister. Whether or not—
When she opened her eyes he was standing there, watching her, shirtless and so beautiful that arousal pierced her with a sharp ache. "I don't know. So many things could go wrong that I don't know how to plan. I don't know where to start."
He smiled, the expression filled with sadness instead of pleasure. "You might have to trust someone. For once."
"I'll fuck it up." Her eyes burned. So did her throat. And her heart. "How many times could you forgive me for letting fear get the best of me? Do you even know how much of it I have inside me?"
"How many times could I forgive you," he echoed softly. "A million. Every day. The same thing you'd have to do for me. That's what it is, Tatiana. Loving someone."
The tears filled her eyes, and she couldn't blink them away this time. "I love people, but they don't love me back. What if there's a reason?"
He took a step toward her, only to stop short, his hands flexing at his sides. "You have to let them, sweetheart."
She'd drawn so many lines with him. Rules and boundaries, all in an attempt to sketch out some way letting him into her life could be safe. As if she could negotiate away affection and heartache.
As if she could negotiate her way out of love.
"Show me?" Her voice cracked, but she didn't try to hide her fear. If they were going to do this, he had to know it was there. "Show me how you'd love me, if I let you."
Zan held out his hand. "Up on the roof."
The urge to laugh bubbled up through her tears. She slid her hand into his, clinging tight. "You'd love me on the roof?"
He snorted. "Some of the others are up there, enjoying the last bit of sunshine before it gets too cold. It's a party, Tatiana."
"Oh." Her cheeks heated, because her mind had gone straight to filthy sex, and he was being sweet again. "I haven't had a lot of time for parties. That would be nice."
He drew her closer, all the way to his chest, and rubbed his thumb over her cheek. "I can't show you what it means unless I show you my family."
Family. The word always twisted her up inside. Family meant grief and guilt. Her mother, who'd been shot by one of her father's rivals before Dallas had put an end to the constant street wars. Her father and his bloody, brutal legacy. The burden of her sister's safety, and Tatiana's frustration with herself for every shred of resentment she couldn't shove down.
Zan's voice lent the word so much warmth that she ached with envy. "Is that what they are?"
"Ever since my brother died."
"Your brother?"
"Hunter." Zan stiffened. "He fell in the last big fight, when Dallas took over."
A chill swept over her. Her lips felt numb. "My—my father?"
"Or one of his men, I don't know." He pulled away to grasp her upper arms. "But I don't blame you, Tatiana
. I never have. He and I both knew the danger of fighting against your father."
"I'm still sorry." She slid her arms around him, pressing her forehead to his broad chest. "My father is responsible for so much death and pain. Sometimes I can't even blame the people who want to take it out on me."
"They shouldn't," he said resolutely. "You didn't do it, and you didn't want him to do it, either."
No, but she'd learned to bite back that defense early on. Did the poor little princess lose all her pretty things? I know how you can earn them back. Only the women in the sector had held their tongues, because they already knew what cold comfort a brutal man's power could be.
The women, and the O'Kanes.
She kissed Zan's shoulder. "Will you tell me about him some time?"
"Yeah. Whatever you want to know."
"Everything." She tilted her head back to smile up at him. "I want to know everything about you."
"Then come on." He kept her hand firmly in his as he reached for his discarded shirt. "There's no better place to start than an O'Kane party."
Chapter Nine
Tatiana had heard about O'Kane parties. Everyone in the sector had heard about them. If you listened to even the tamest gossip, they were decadent affairs full of sex, booze, and skin.
If you listened to the things people whispered behind their hands, they were straight-up kinky orgies.
As they climbed the stairs, Tatiana fought rising nerves. Parties full of debauchery weren't completely foreign to her, but they'd been her first significant source of friction with Gia. It had been challenging enough for Tatiana to submit in private. Getting on her knees in front of strangers had twisted dread through her gut.
Gia had been furious. Not that Tatiana failed to enjoy it, but because she tried so hard to endure it. That was everything wrong with their relationship, boiled down to one simple truth—Gia wanted something Tatiana could never be. And Tatiana had been so lost, so scared, that she'd tried anyway, and it only hurt them both in the end.
Zan liked having her beneath him. He might like putting her on her knees. Hell, behind closed doors, with just the two of them, she might like it, too. But if he did it now, in front of strangers—no, not strangers, in front of the people who had fought and bled in the war with her father, who had every reason to want to see her small—
Once, she'd crawled for Gia even while it cut her up inside. She'd spent the years since humbling herself in front of her father's enemies. She'd done it for survival, because she had to, but she wouldn't do it now for someone else's entertainment. Not even for Zan.
Nervous but clinging to her resolve, Tatiana followed Zan through the sturdy door...
...and found a picnic.
O'Kanes were scattered across the roof, on lounge chairs and blankets and clustered around a grill. She recognized several—Trix and Rachel, two of the dancers who frequented her shop often. Ace, the O'Kanes' infamous tattoo artist and one of Gia's longtime friends.
The three of them were sprawled on one blanket, laughing as a sweet little baby with dark eyes and darker curls waved tiny fists in the air, trying to grab at Ace's fingers. Beyond them, two men stood over the grill. Cruz—the one Zan had credited with a steel jaw, who'd taken down three men in a cage fight. And she'd been to enough fights to recognize Bren, the O'Kane who got off on taking a beating as much as he did dishing one out.
His girlfriend, Six, was seated nearby, watching the only man whose name Tatiana couldn't recall as he sketched something on a pad of paper. She was the first to look up as Zan pulled Tatiana through the door, her lips curving up in a welcoming smile. "Finally got tired of punching things?"
"That could change," Zan shot back. "You wanna go?"
Six was tiny compared to Zan. Hell, she was tiny compared to Tatiana. She was short and lean, with the sharp angles of someone who'd spent too many years not eating enough. But her grin was downright feral. "Not in front of your friend. I don't want to wound your ego."
"Someone needs to give yours a poke, fighter girl," Ace said without taking his eyes from the baby. "Winning that last fight's got you all cocky."
"Don't listen to him, Six," Rachel advised. "It's not cocky if you can back it up." She shaded her eyes and looked over. "Hi."
Tatiana shook off her surprise and struggled for a smile. "Hey, Rachel."
Zan urged her forward with a hand at the small of her back. "You want something to drink?"
The idea of fuzzing her nerves and the stress of the day with liquor was too appealing to be a safe idea. She hesitated, and Ace spoke again before she could. "You should try the beer. Rachel broke out the good stuff tonight."
Just a little fuzz. Perfect. "Beer would be nice, thanks."
Cruz bent to pull one from a bucket, giving it a shake that splattered ice water on the roof. "Zan?"
"I'm good, thanks." He took the beer, opened it easily, and handed it to Tatiana. "What's on the grill?"
"Venison." Cruz grinned. "Apparently Hawk knows all the best hunting spots. He'll be useful to have around."
"Zan." Trix raised both eyebrows and tilted her head toward an empty chair near the blanket.
He cleared his throat. "Right." He guided Tatiana over and gestured awkwardly to it.
Rachel hid a smile.
Tatiana's heart gave a funny little twist as she sank into the chair. Zan was as nervous as she was, and these people—his family—didn't give a shit who she was or who her father was. They just wanted him to be happy.
God, she felt a million years old. Dirty and cynical and bruised...and still somehow as awkwardly nervous as Zan, because this was all new to her. Family. Happiness.
Ace stepped into the silence by rolling upright and sweeping the cooing baby up into his arms. "Princess Stone, meet Princess Hana. Her mama and papa haven't slept or spent more than twenty seconds alone in about three months, so Rachel and I revolted and declared we were babysitting tonight."
It was so far beyond Tatiana's experience she couldn't quite wrap her brain around it. Not even her father had trusted most of his men in the same room as his children, and he hadn't been that fond of them. But a five-year-old with a gun shoved between her teeth made tempting leverage, and that was the one thing his men were always eager for. Any scrap of power.
Six sprawled into the chair next to her and patted her arm. "It gets easier," she said in a voice that held too much sympathy. "I thought they were crazy for months."
"I still think they're crazy," the man with the sketchpad rumbled before winking at Trix. "But I like our brand of crazy."
Zan laughed. "You might want to come up with something better than like, Finn."
"He did," Six retorted. "Our."
Tatiana dropped her gaze to the girl's thin wrists. She had ink around them, the O'Kane skull with an intricate border of chain links. Trix and Rachel had them, too. Symbols could be powerful. They could reflect power, enhance it. But without Dallas O'Kane's grip on the sector, those cuffs would be nothing more than pretty drawings.
Her way had always felt safer. If the power shifted again, she'd survive, well-equipped to continue living her tiny, desperate little life. And while Tatiana scraped and struggled to survive in the cracks between dueling loyalties, the O'Kanes were grilling venison and playing with babies.
"Our." Rachel rolled over onto her back, closing her eyes against the waning sunlight. "Our is good."
Maybe it was, after all. Forty more years of barely scraping by didn't seem so appealing when this was the alternative.
Tatiana peeked up at Zan. He was watching her intently, as if he was waiting for some sort of sign.
The way I see it, your potential allegiance is directly tied to whether you believe in what we're doing.
Lex's words had too many layers. Who wouldn't want to believe in this ideal? Family and friendship and the safety that didn't come with numbers, but the fact that those who had your back would never, ever sink a knife in it. But to believe it could exist, that it could last...<
br />
Her heart pounding too hard, Tatiana reached for Zan's hand. He folded his fingers around hers with a smile, tucked their joined hands into the hollow of her neck, and said something else to Ace, something that elicited a gentle wave of laughter.
She wanted to believe. Maybe Zan could show her how.
For some reason, inviting Tatiana into his room felt like another test, another bit of proof he had to give her before some of the tension would ease out of her shoulders. Before she would let down her guard.
He passed by the light switch and flicked on a lamp by his bed instead. "This is it. My place."
She stood just inside, leaning up against the closed door. Her gaze slid from one side to the other, taking in the small table and couch along one wall. "It's nice." She glanced at the bed, her lips quirking up. "It's big."
The room or the bed—he didn't even have to ask. "I'm not a small guy."
"I know." She still didn't move away from the door, but he could see the color creeping down her neck. "It's not like I imagined."
"No?" He sat down on the end of the bed and started pulling off his boots. "What did you picture?"
She kicked off her borrowed shoes and pushed away from the door. "I don't know. I think most of us assume that O'Kanes decorate their walls with whips and chains."
"Don't let Ace hear you call them decorations." He tossed aside both of his boots. She looked nervous, but that was okay. So was he. "Come sit down."
She hesitated for a moment in front of him before hoisting her skirt and sliding onto his lap. She fit like this, her hips against his, her body soft and sweet as she relaxed against his chest and curled her arms around his neck. "I've been thinking about something you said."
"I say a lot of shit," he admitted. "Only half of it is worth a damn."
"This was. It was the night we fucked." She dropped her forehead to his, her lips so close he could taste her words. "You said it didn't have to be that hard."