Before the End (Beyond Series Ultimate Glom Edition)

by Kit Rocha

  That changed in an instant when she turned to Hawk. Her gaze warmed, and her mouth curved into a smile as she leaned one hip against the porch railing. “You better have a trunk full of that fine Sector Four whiskey, or Big John'll toss you halfway back to O'Kane territory.”

  “Big John's getting old,” Hawk replied with a grin. He tugged Jeni up the steps before releasing her to wrap his mother in a hug. “He couldn't toss me past the end of the driveway these days.”

  “Don't let him hear you say that.” Alya hugged her son fiercely, then released him and returned her attention to Jeni. “And who's this?”

  “This is Jeni.” Hawk settled his hand at the small of Jeni's back, warm and encouraging. “Jeni, meet my mother, Alya.”

  She held out her hand, willing her fingers not to tremble. “Hi.”

  Alya's grip was as warm and firm as Lex's. “Nice to meet you, Jeni. Welcome to my farm.”

  “Thank you. It's beautiful.”

  “It has its moments.” Alya turned for the door. “Why don't you two come inside? We have leftovers from breakfast, and you can get Jeni settled in.”

  “I was going to show her around first—”

  “Hawk.” Alya cut him off firmly. “I know you have manners in there somewhere. Your girl could use a bite to eat and a little time to catch her breath. Shipp'll be back from a run tonight, and that means a rally. Let her rest up.”

  Alya disappeared into the farmhouse, and Hawk exhaled on a laugh. “You should have been there the first time she and Lex met.”

  It wasn't hard to imagine. “Badass lady standoff of epic proportions?”

  “I wasn't sure if they were going to love or kill each other.” Hawk smiled. “Dallas had no doubts. He says Alya's the reason I'm the only new recruit who's never pissed Lex off.”

  “Makes sense.” So much about him still didn't, but at least he was comfortable here, relaxed in ways she'd only glimpsed back in Four, and even then only in the rooftop gardens he'd helped cultivate.

  Maybe he was right. Maybe everything she needed to know about him could be traced back to Six, to the wide-open spaces and the tilled earth and the quiet peace that hummed beneath the noises of a working farm. If people were products of their environments, then Hawk was Sector Six.

  And she only had a few days to learn everything she could.

  If Sector Six had a version of fight night, it was a rally.

  It had been fifteen years since the first one. Fifteen years since he'd rolled back onto the farm, young and angry and determined to rescue his mother, one way or another.

  Shipp had been the knight in shining armor that day. Though he was only five years Hawk's senior, Shipp had seemed decades older in maturity and poise. He was like Dallas—a person with the inner strength and charisma that it took to draw men looking for someone to believe in, along with the steel will required to get the job done.

  Fifteen years ago, that had meant preventing Hawk from committing patricide.

  At first, Hawk had resented Shipp for thwarting his revenge. It had taken years for him to understand that the only reward he could have claimed for killing his own father would have been a lifetime of looking himself in the mirror, too aware of the blood on his hands.

  Shipp had understood. And he'd taken on that burden, just like he'd taken on the burden of protecting the bruised, terrified victims of Hawk's father's legacy. That first rally could have been a disaster waiting to happen—a crew of outlaw smugglers and a farm full of women and children still reeling from their unexpected freedom.

  Instead, they'd found common ground. Drinking, dancing, and driving. Laughter and food, and celebrating the heady feeling of being so far from Eden, you could almost forget they were there at all.

  Tonight, people seemed to want to forget. The cars were gathered in the field, headlights illuminating the darkness as engines purred and music blared. Jeni was down there in a cluster of Hawk's sisters, still nervous but smiling, and so gorgeous he wanted to sweep her up and lure her into the shadows.

  The couples sneaking away were headed to rendezvous plenty tame by O'Kane standards—but there was a charm to kissing in the darkness, frustration burning until the need for more was unbearable. Tension could be delicious when you knew it didn't have to last forever.

  But Eden was out there. And he had to talk business before indulging himself. “It's getting bad, Shipp.”

  “Yeah?” Shipp lit a cigarette, the lighter and the tip both flaring in the darkness. “You're going to have to be more specific.”

  “Everyone thought they'd have made a move by now.” Hawk shoved his hands deep into his jacket pockets and tried not to stare back toward the city. It shouldn't have been visible at all from the farm, but the new lights charging the walls created an ominous glow to the east. “Hunger's going to drive them out. And you know what that means.”

  “Course I do. I know how wars work, Hawk.” Shipp gazed out at the revelers in the clearing, cast in harsh relief by the headlights. “Food's always the thing. Either an army will need it, or they'll want to make damn sure their enemies can't use it.” He arched an eyebrow. “We should probably be glad your new boss hasn't burned us to the ground already, just in case.”

  No one in Sector Four had said it—at least where Hawk could hear—but he saw it in their eyes. He saw it in the way they refused to look at him every time Jyoti delivered an update on the state of the farms and communes—food the sectors had access to that stood beyond Eden's reach.

  Dallas didn't need Sector Six to win the war, and he couldn't afford to let Eden get their hands on it. “There's land on the edge of Four, Shipp. The girls are doing great with their farm. Round everyone up and get the hell out of here before anything happens.”

  Shipp snorted. “You know better. Your mama's not leaving this place while there are still two boards to rub together.”

  He knew. For twenty-five years, this place had been hell on earth for Alya—but for the last fifteen it had been hers, the land she'd reclaimed inch by inch, stone by stone. She and Shipp had built it into a secret haven for lost wanderers and runaway children.

  She wouldn't give it up any more than Dallas would abandon the Broken Circle. “She may not have a choice.”

  “If it comes to that, I'll pick her up and carry her myself,” Shipp agreed. “But it has to be down to that—no other choice. You understand.”

  “I understand.” He squeezed Shipp's shoulder. “Laurie and Tanya mentioned wanting to move over to Four. Dallas said I can put some of the new recruits to work building another couple barns and an addition on the house. Anyone else who wants to come, we'll have room. And you know I'll take care of them.”

  “Yeah, you will.” The corner of Shipp's mouth tilted up. “You're all-in on the O'Kane shit these days, you and Finn. Brotherhood, booze, and cute little redheads.”

  Hawk found Jeni in the crowd again. Her hair was half up, pulled away from her face to cascade down her back in soft waves. Her endless variations fascinated him almost as much as the way she could disappear behind wigs and makeup. He'd learned to hide his expressions behind a single blank mask, but Jeni had a hundred of them, and the truth of her was in the precious, rare places where they all overlapped.

  “She's not mine,” Hawk replied softly. And because it was Shipp, who wasn't quite a father but was so much more than a friend, he added the truth. “Not yet.”

  “No?”

  “I'm working on it.”

  Shipp was silent as he finished his cigarette. Then he crushed it out on the bottom of his boot and turned to Hawk. “Sometimes you have to take a chance. Go ahead and jump, even if you're not sure how you're gonna land.”

  From anyone else, it would have been casual advice. But Shipp knew. The whole sordid story, the reason Hawk had been chased away from his home to begin with. Damn near half his life ago, but the pain of it still surprised him sometimes. Like a bruise he forgot was there until someone slammed into it just right.

  O'Kanes
didn't do jealousy, but Hawk sure as fuck did. And this was a hell of a bad time to piss off the O'Kanes. “It's complicated, man.”

  “Isn't everything?” Shipp jerked his head toward a small cluster of cars just outside the circle in the field. “I want to show you something.”

  Hawk followed him, nodding when people broke off to greet him and returning the hugs from sisters and shoulder slaps from brothers. The crowd surged around him, ebbing and flowing, so familiar the sense of disconnect from the last month only grew.

  The tension plaguing Four seemed so distant. The people here weren't partying harder as they stared down oblivion. They were just partying. The war was still abstract to them. They had their solar power, their chores, the same lives they'd been living all along.

  Hawk could fool himself into thinking he'd lure them to safety, but they wouldn't hear him. Not while their illusions of peace held strong.

  The men who stood around the cars here weren't farmers, strictly speaking. Their cars were a little beat up, and everything that wasn't essential had been stripped out of them to make room for hauling. Half the cars had engines that were too big for them, so they'd had to weld counterweights to the back frame to maintain stability.

  The cars were rough, but they ran like a dream, and so did the men who drove them. This was Shipp's crew, his family, and it showed.

  “Big John.” Shipp caught his towering friend in a one-armed hug. “Hold down the fort okay while I was gone?”

  “Still here, ain't it?” Big John grinned and tossed Hawk a nearly empty bottle of liquor. “If you can stand to drink anything but O'Kane's finest these days.”

  Shipp grimaced. “Don't do it, Hawk. You have too much to live for. John's moonshine tastes like shit.”

  Not drinking wasn't an option. Big John wasn't just Shipp's oldest friend—he was Shipp's oldest friend, a legitimate badass who'd been orphaned during the Flares and had still come through the aftermath kicking.

  The bottle was a test. A dangerous one—the worst of the rotgut the O'Kanes peddled still went down smooth compared to the shit John cooked up. Hell, diesel went down smoother. That didn't stop Hawk from twisting off the top and letting the moonshine burn through his tongue on its way to his stomach.

  “All right, all right.” Big John retrieved the bottle with a grin as the rest of Shipp's team hooted and cheered.

  “That's enough.” Something serious lurked beneath Shipp's lazy amusement. “It's time to show the boy our Plan B.”

  Big John nodded and popped open the trunk of his car. Inside were wooden crates and weathered jugs, all packed in there as tightly as possible.

  Shipp pried open one crate. At first, Hawk thought there were weapons nestled amongst the hay. Then he looked closer and saw that they were flare guns, the simple kind that were nothing more than large tubes and triggers.

  He whistled as he lifted one from the crate. “Where'd you get your hands on these?”

  “A man's gotta have his secrets,” Shipp answered flatly. “If city forces breach the sector, we need a way to warn the others. We'll distribute these to the farmers and settlers, make sure they know how to use them.”

  It was a clever solution, one Eden couldn't thwart. And Shipp wouldn't just be distributing them. By the time he was done, everyone would have an evacuation plan in place. They'd know what to grab, where to go, how to get out.

  If only that was enough. Hawk set the tube back in the crate and made himself say the damn words. “If it comes to that, you know what you have to do. The whole damn sector has to burn.”

  “What do you think these are for?” Shipp thumped a jug, then grabbed the bottle from Big John's hand and swirled it around, one eyebrow raised. “Least this shit's good for something.”

  “I was drinking that,” John said mildly.

  Shipp relinquished the rotgut with a snort. “It's your liver, old man.”

  They were still cracking jokes, and Hawk couldn't tell if they didn't believe the danger was real, or if they'd skated past horror and straight into laughing in the face of the inevitable. He was still stuck in between, having to imagine Shipp hauling a screaming Alya away from her burning farm.

  It was gonna take a while for that mental image to stop hurting.

  Shipp sobered, his morbid humor fading. “Go,” he told him quietly. “Enjoy the rest of the party.”

  Hawk squeezed his shoulder again, then turned toward Jeni. She still stood in a tight knot with two of his sisters. Not even that far away, but getting to her…

  In Sector Four, folks melted out of his path. It only took one glance at the O'Kane ink on his wrists to clear the way. Here, the crowd contracted. People were eager to see him, to ask questions about the world beyond the farm, about the O'Kanes, about him. It was a welcome that warmed his heart and tried his patience at the same time.

  He broke free of the final circle—three of his youngest brothers begging him to come look at the car they were working on—after promising a longer visit in the morning. Then it was just Bethany and Luna, and he braced himself for whatever stories they had to be telling Jeni. Especially Bethany—she'd been born the week before him, to their father's second wife, and had witnessed the most spectacular embarrassments of his childhood.

  “—is amazing,” Bethany was saying as Hawk slid up next to Jeni. “Where did you find it?”

  “The city has a ton of old books in their files,” Jeni answered. “I can get you a copy.”

  “We'd owe you big.” Bethany grinned at Hawk. “You brought us a smart one. She's going to cure your mama's horse.”

  Of all the conversations he'd been imagining… He quirked an eyebrow at Jeni. “You know about horses?”

  “God, no.” She laughed and shook her head. “I read a book.”

  And clearly remembered it well enough to impress Bethany, which was its own miracle. Bethany might not be Alya's daughter by blood, but she was heir apparent to Alya's empire and took the farm seriously.

  Luna bumped her shoulder against his. “If you're thinking about stealing your girl away, forget it. We're having a discussion here.”

  His girl. No matter what he said to Shipp, the words felt right. Hawk looped his arm around Jeni's waist. “She'll still be here tomorrow, but the dancing won't be. You gonna spoil her first rally?”

  Luna dropped her head back with a disgusted noise. “Ugh, fine. Still plenty of time to tell stories, I guess.”

  Hawk made a mental note to keep Jeni far away from his sisters for the rest of the night. Maybe for the rest of the trip. “Behave,” he shot back, already tugging Jeni toward the shadows. “I know stories, too. Stories I could tell a certain smuggler…”

  Luna's face went red, and she muttered something under her breath, something foul enough to make Bethany burst out laughing.

  A momentary victory, but enough of one to make their escape. Hawk caught Jeni's hand and led her between two cars and out into the darkness. “Horses, huh?”

  “Mm-hmm.” She squeezed his hand. “Your family is nice.”

  “Most of 'em, most of the time. But it's not much like Sector Four.”

  “No, it isn't.” Her voice was low, almost a whisper. “It helps, though. I might even be starting to figure you out.”

  He turned them both toward a gentle rise covered with trees—the closest thing to privacy on a rally night, when the barns would be full of people stealing kisses. “And what are you figuring out, Jeni?”

  “Too early to say,” she demurred. “Where are we going?”

  “Someplace quiet.” He rubbed his thumb over the back of her hand. “Someplace where I don't have to share you.”

  She fell silent, following him as he crested the hill. Then she sucked in a breath and stared out at the horizon, away from the city, at a sky heavy with stars. “How did you ever leave this place?”

  Hawk gave in to temptation and stroked his fingers lightly over her hair. “I didn't have a choice the first time. My father kicked me out. It happens a lot with so
ns who disappoint.”

  She looked up at him with questions in her eyes, her gaze sliding over his face like she could find all the answers there if she just stared long enough. Eventually, she smiled. “But you came back. And then you left again.”

  “Because someone had to help Trix and Finn get back to Sector Four.” He wrapped a lock of her hair around his finger and tugged lightly. “I stayed for the wrong reasons at first. And then I stayed for the right ones. Dallas is worth supporting.”

  Her smile deepened, and she turned her face back toward the darkness.

  That smile tugged at the parts of him he didn't like, the jealous, dark parts. She'd smiled at Dallas like that during the last meeting, as sweet and affectionate as the touches they'd exchanged. Dallas had stroked her hair, just like Hawk was now. Jeni had kissed his cheek.

  And Hawk had seethed with envy.

  “Is that the reason?” he asked, not wanting to know the answer and still unable to stop himself from asking. “Dallas and Lex. Are they why you're not ready?”

  Jeni stiffened. “I wasn't thinking of them at all, actually. I was laughing at myself a little. For a minute, I thought…” She exhaled sharply. “I thought you might say that part of the reason you stayed in Four was for me.”

  He let his thumb drift to her cheek and traced down to her jaw. “I can't say it. I'm already worried about scaring you off. If you find out how long I've been watching you, you'll run for it.”

  “You offered me a collar, Hawk. I assume you've been thinking about it for a while.” A breeze blew strands of hair across her parted lips, and she brushed them away as she turned to him. “Show me.”

  She was so small. He never really noticed until they were this close, until he was staring down at her lips, calculating how long it would take to close the distance between them. He wrapped an arm around her waist and hauled her firmly against him and up, until she was balanced on her toes, and he still had to bend down to claim her lips.