Before the End (Beyond Series Ultimate Glom Edition)

by Kit Rocha

  No one would. No one should.

  God, this wasn't how she wanted to come to Zan. Helpless and hopeless, lost. Just the way she'd crawled to Gia, and she had that weakness in her. The temptation to curl up at the feet of someone stronger and let the world drift away.

  For a few hours. For a night. But it wouldn't take long for the dependence to chafe, and she'd resent Zan and hate herself and destroy the both of them, and it would be so much worse than Gia because she'd been young and stupid and now...

  Now she was a little bit in love.

  "The guys are good at this," Six told her quietly, and Tatiana wondered how much pain must be showing on her face, because the other woman patted her shoulder with the awkwardness of someone not used to showing affection. She'd done it on the roof, too. Making an effort, just like they were all making an effort.

  Tatiana was the wary, broken ass who couldn't trust them.

  Emma toyed with the end of one dark lock of hair, then bit her lip. "I can check on your place, if you want."

  "I'll go with you," Six said as she lit a candle. "If Lex okays it."

  Lex took a deep breath and glanced between the three of them in the flickering light. "If it were any other blackout, I'd say yes in a heartbeat. But it's not."

  "No, it's not." Six frowned, her gaze flicking from Tatiana to Emma before landing on Lex. "Emma and I can end trouble, sure. But there's only one of us the punks won't dare to start shit with."

  Lex arched one eyebrow. "You saying I should go take care of it?"

  "Maybe all four of us." She jerked her head toward Tatiana. "We can give her a gun. Obviously she knows what to do with it."

  "Sure, honey. I didn't promise Zan I'd keep her safe or anything."

  That stung Tatiana's pride—and lodged something ugly beneath the warmth lingering in her heart. This was how he'd break her—one offhand comment at a time. She wasn't Catalina, sheltered and spoiled and oblivious to the dangers of the world. She'd made her own damn place. She'd fought for it.

  She wasn't going to sit and let it crumble because Zan felt better with her wrapped in gauze and silk.

  "That's not his choice to make." She didn't let her voice waver. "I promised not to interfere with the rescue. But it's my shop, Lex. It's my life."

  The woman paused with her glass to her lips and stared at Tatiana. "I suppose that's fair," she said finally. "Okay, then. We'll all go."

  Relief flooded Tatiana, so intense she had to steady herself against the table. Six's chair scraped back, and she unclipped a key ring from her belt as she rose. "Knives or guns, guys?"

  Emma shrugged. "The sectors have gone dark. Better take both."

  Six grinned—actually grinned—and headed for the kitchen, and Tatiana found herself meeting Lex's eyes.

  "I don't want to put you guys in danger," guilt made her say. "If I could have a gun..."

  Lex smiled. "Shut up, Stone. You're not going out there alone."

  "Are you sure?"

  "Trying to make me change my mind?"

  "No." She wouldn't turn down help. But she'd owe Sector Four's queen a different sort of debt after tonight, the kind that might sit heavy someday. "Thank you, Lex."

  "Business as usual." The words were casual, but her expression was serious. Meaningful. "It's not a favor. We help each other."

  Each other. She wasn't one of them. She was the opposite of one of them. It had always felt that way, at least. Like the gulf was so wide she could never cross it. Like she'd plunge to her death if she tried.

  Maybe all she had to do was reach out.

  Silently, she extended her hand across the table. Lex wrapped her fingers around Tatiana's and nodded, as if answering a question. "Time for you to see how the O'Kane women roll."

  It was hard to be stealthy when you damn near had a riot on your hands.

  They had only made it halfway to Wallace's headquarters when the lights went out. By the time they reached the market square, looters and troublemakers had already begun spilling into the streets. They stopped to deal with the worst of it, but the situation was far from ideal. The longer they lingered, the likelier it was someone would give Wallace the heads-up about their presence.

  Finally, Bren shook his head. "We can't stay, Dallas."

  "Fuck it," Dallas growled. "We deal with Wallace and get the girl, and then we can put this shit down."

  By that time, the rest of the O'Kanes would have it under control. Even knowing that, Zan wanted to check up on Tatiana's shop. The suggestion hovered on the tip of his tongue. It meant so damn much to her...

  But her sister meant more.

  Suddenly, he needed to hear Dallas say it again. "If Wallace won't cooperate?"

  "You put a bullet in him."

  "And if he does cooperate?" Cruz asked quietly.

  Dallas didn't hesitate. "Zan gets the girl out, and one of us puts a bullet in him."

  Wallace had used up the last of his chances. He had proved himself a danger, and Dallas's decision had nothing to do with the fact that the man had challenged him. He had sown discord, sure, but Wallace had sealed his fate when one of his men had threatened a citizen of Sector Four on his behalf.

  You could piss on Dallas's foot and he'd punch you in the face. But the moment you tried to harm someone in his sector, he'd nail your ass to the wall.

  The scent of wood smoke filled the darkness, along with the acrid tang of burning oil and plastic. The shouts and crashes were more distant than before. Word was getting around about their presence in the market, all right, and they needed to move fast.

  Zan checked his pistols as he and Dallas rounded the back of Wallace's new shop. Cruz and Bren took the front. Stupid of the man to claim this building for his own, since it had previously belonged to wheezy old Walt Misham. Most of the O'Kanes had dropped thousands of credits on Walt's wares—and knew the building almost as well as any of their own.

  Dallas held one finger over his lips as he and Zan crept through the alley toward the back entrance. One guard—one fucking guard—stood outside, smoking a cigarette and banging the back of his head softly against the beat-up metal door.

  He didn't see them coming. He didn't see Dallas coming, not even when Dallas surged out of the shadows and smashed into him, cutting off his shout of warning with a rough arm across the throat and his struggles with a gun pressed to his temple.

  "Where's the girl?" Dallas growled, easing up just enough to let the man rasp out an answer.

  But he didn't. He bared his teeth in a feral grin. "Fuck you. Wallace is gonna take your sector and all your bitches—"

  Dallas slammed his arm back into place. "Not if you're what he's got to work with." The man thrashed, his face turning ruddy even in the darkness. Dallas just leaned closer, digging the gun muzzle deeper into his skin. "Think about it while you're passing the fuck out. Think about whether or not you're going to wake up again. Maybe I'll let Zan here decide. You might not like that."

  It seemed to take forever for the man's eyes to roll up. He slumped, and Dallas let him slide to the garbage-strewn alley. Zan patted him down and found a gun and two knives, one with a wickedly curved blade still stained with what looked like blood.

  He clenched his teeth. "Fucking Wallace."

  The back door was unlocked, but the shop was empty. He and Dallas made their way through to the front room, where Cruz and Bren had already come to the same conclusion.

  Bren jerked his head toward the rickety wooden ladder against one wall and silently indicated the loft. Cruz scrambled soundlessly up it but shook his head as soon as he swung his flashlight around.

  "Fuck." Dallas stalked toward the table loaded with empty bottles. "Help me move this. Walt had a trap door under here that led down to the cellar."

  As soon as they picked up the edges of the table, a bullet blew up through the trap door. Bren dove aside, rolling to the floor and coming up with a gun. He held up a hand, crept toward the splintered trap door, and flipped it open.

  Anoth
er shot exploded from below, and Zan fought to clear the fury from his vision. Catalina might be down there, though it was clear no one gave a shit whether she ended up caught in the crossfire of a gunfight.

  Instead of firing back, he jumped.

  He landed on the man with the gun, knocking them both to the floor in a sprawl. The butt of a pistol cracked across his face, but he shook off the pain and grabbed the man's wrist in a punishing grip. A quick twist resulted in a satisfying snap, and the man howled in agony as the gun went skittering across the rough plank floor. Zan hit him back, one hard cuff to the temple, and he went silent.

  Zan listened carefully, but there were no other sounds in the cellar. "Throw me a light," he called up.

  Bren snapped a glow stick and tossed it down. "Any sign of the girl?"

  "No sign of anyone." He spun in a slow circle with the light held aloft, searching for any indication that the man at his feet hadn't been alone. "The bastard must've come down here to hide."

  "Idiots and cowards." Dallas crouched near the opening. "So where would an idiot coward go?"

  A sick wave of fear prickled over Zan's skin. It would take more than cowardice for Wallace to head for Tatiana's shop—it would take bravado that bordered on insanity.

  He clambered up the ladder with a vicious curse. "I've got a pretty damn good idea."

  Dallas caught his arm. "Zan? Is your head on straight?"

  "Does it matter?" They were playing a whole new game now, and a level head would only get in his way.

  Bren spoke up. "He could have headed for the compound, planned to hit us tonight."

  "No." Zan was sure of that. Right now, there was only one thing Wallace wanted more than to overthrow the O'Kanes—to punish Tatiana.

  And there were two surefire ways to do it.

  Chapter Eleven

  The streets were anything but quiet, but Six had been right. Lex was one of the most recognizable people in Sector Four, and trouble melted out of their path.

  Tatiana led them around the back of the shop, hands shaking as she fumbled with the first of three locks. The relief at seeing the building still standing was intense. She'd been picturing flames from the first moment the lights had gone out, but maybe Dallas and his crew were delivering all the trouble Wallace could handle tonight.

  She pushed the door open, but Six caught her arm before she could step inside. She pulled her gun and flashlight, bracing one wrist over the other as she edged inside and swept the beam across the room.

  "The office is clear," she said quietly. "What's through the open door?"

  "My workroom."

  Six stepped inside. "Emma?"

  "Got it." She took up a position by the open doorway as Six walked through it.

  Out of habit, Tatiana swung her own flashlight toward the picture by the door, and stopped cold.

  The framed portrait of her mother was skewed at a wild angle.

  Her stomach dropped out, and she tried to remember the last time she'd checked it. After the fight, maybe? After Stuart dragged Buzz's body out into the alley? But Zan had hauled her through the door, kicking and slapping. She could have bumped it with a knee or her boot and not noticed.

  Or Catalina could be somewhere in the shop. And she wouldn't be alone.

  Six and Emma had already cleared the workroom. Tatiana grabbed Lex's arm as she spun toward the door that led to her storefront. "Something's wrong."

  Lex's brows drew together. "What?"

  "The picture. It's a signal Catalina and I use." She stared at the door, trying to remember. Had she closed it for some reason? She couldn't remember...and couldn't take the risk. "I think I left that door—"

  Lex swung around. "Six, Emma, get out—"

  "Yeah, get out." The voice drifted in from the front room. Wallace, not lazy at all. Focused. Intent. Terrifying enough to chill her heart. "Better listen to the lady."

  Flesh cracked against flesh. A woman cried out in pain—Catalina—and Tatiana knew she'd fucked up. She'd waited too long, and now her sister was going to suffer, maybe even die—

  Unless she took her place.

  Tatiana didn't look at Lex. "You should—"

  Lex caught her wrist. "Not part of the deal."

  The back door thumped shut behind them. Tatiana twisted and saw Six calmly checking her arm sheaths before dragging her sleeves down to cover them. She held up a finger to her lips and then pointed toward Tatiana's feet.

  Her knife. She checked her boot and nodded as Six came to stand next to Lex. "Sorry, boss. We don't go back without you."

  Any reply she might have made was cut off by Wallace's terrifying voice. "Of course, if anyone leaves, I'll have to kill the girl."

  Oh, God. Humiliating Catalina in front of the sector would have been kinder than this. The love of her baby sister's life was threatening to end her life, and Tatiana would have given her up forever to spare her this. Rage replaced the ice, the kind she hadn't felt in years.

  Stone-cold vengeance. Her father had made it a joke. Tatiana was about to make it a reality.

  "What do you want?" she asked, hoping the blankness of her voice sounded like fear to him.

  The door between the office and the front room slammed open, and two of Wallace's men stood there. For a moment, she could see the shadows of Wallace and her sister, driven away in an instant as the men clicked on blindingly bright flashlights.

  Wallace laughed. "Now it's a party. Bring them in—and don't fucking forget to take their weapons."

  One man approached warily, his gaze stuck on Lex even as he wrenched the pistol out of Tatiana's hand. He tucked it at the small of his back and turned to Lex, something mean flashing through his eyes. "Hand it over."

  "Kiss my ass, you dickless bastard."

  Two more men spilled through the door. The big one seized Lex by the arms while the other one leered. "More fun to frisk her anyway."

  Six ejected the magazine from her gun and tossed it aside. "You want his fingers when this is over, Lex?"

  "Why wait?" she gritted through clenched, bared teeth. "I'll bite those motherfuckers off right now."

  "Shut the fuck up." The leering man backhanded her.

  Her head whipped to the side. Blood welled at the corner of her mouth, but her feral grin didn't fade. Instead, it grew as she hauled back one leg and kicked him in the balls.

  He went down retching, and the man holding her snatched her gun out of her waistband and shoved her into the room with Wallace. Emma followed, both hands raised in capitulation.

  Tatiana didn't fight the man who grabbed her, either, letting him tow her roughly through the room. Her hip smashed into a display, sparking pain up her side and sending a dozen wrapped bars of soap and even more bottles clattering to the floor.

  She barely noticed. All she saw was Catalina.

  Her sister was tied to a chair in the center of the room, illuminated by a half dozen of Tatiana's most expensive candles. The room was cloying with the scent of them—jasmine and rose and lavender, with the soft light turning the scene into a cruel mockery of seduction.

  Tears stained Catalina's face. Blood smeared her mouth. She looked dazed, wounded, as if she couldn't understand how her sweet dream had twisted into a nightmare—until her gaze locked with Tatiana's.

  Shame. Terror. Both of them enraged her, but Tatiana shoved it down. She was so, so good at hiding it by now, she could do it one more time.

  "I've got the Stone bitch," the one holding her said, swinging his flashlight around to shine in her eyes. She squeezed them shut as fast as she could, but it was too late. All she could see was the bright afterimage.

  Wallace made a pleased noise that was barely audible over the sound of the fallen man's wailing. "Excellent. Not that she does me much good now. Shit's blowing up, isn't it?"

  Another pained yelp came from the back room, followed by another slap. Six came stumbling through the door, hitting the floor before rolling back to her knees.

  One of the men charged after
her, his gun drawn and already swinging toward her head. "The bitch damn near bit my fucking finger off," he roared. "And O'Kane's whore smashed Locke's balls. We should put them down."

  Catalina whimpered. "Wallace..."

  He ignored her. "Locke got careless." He picked up a bottle of massage oil from the nearest shelf and studied the label. "So did you."

  Six bared her teeth. "Get careless again. I'll bite off more pieces."

  The man took a hasty step back, leaving Wallace mostly isolated. If he hadn't been standing so close to Catalina, Tatiana would already be on him, guns be damned.

  If.

  She curled her fingers into fists and watched him. "You could still make a run for it. You haven't touched an O'Kane yet. Dallas can take Locke apart while you're getting out of the sectors."

  "Christ, you're stupid." His face squinched up in disgust as he flipped open the cap on the bottle. "O'Kane knows how this works. My men don't move without my orders. And pretty little Lexie's bleeding. You do the math."

  "It doesn't look good," Lex agreed blandly. "You're practically a dead man already."

  Catalina whimpered again, and Tatiana shook off the hand holding her to take a step forward. "It's going to be okay, honey. I promise."

  Wallace squeezed the bottle, and oil splashed on the floor just in front of her feet. "Careful, big sister."

  Oil and open flames. Her nightmare surged, a thousand times worse, because now Catalina was a part of it. "Fucking hell, Wallace. Let her go. All she ever did was care about you."

  "Isn't that what they say about the road to hell?" He upended the bottle and watched it dribble slowly onto the floor. "Paved with good intentions, or some shit?"

  Tatiana glanced at Lex, but the woman gave the tiniest shake of her head before inclining it toward Wallace, and Tatiana could almost hear the words. Keep him distracted.

  The floor was slick. She had to step to the side to avoid it, but it drew Wallace's gaze with her. "So what is this? Spite?"