Beyond Pain (16 page)

But her jaw wouldn't unlock, not until she saw Noelle's brows pull together and her lips part, and she knew she was about to get another one of those supportive hugs as the Eden princess chided Lex, and her pride wouldn't survive it.

"I need a drink," she blurted instead, rocketing off the couch and out of Noelle's well-meaning reach. She plowed through the crowd and ducked between two fighters, only to smash headlong into one of the last people she wanted to see.

"Whoa." Elvis steadied her with heavy hands on her shoulders. "Slow it down, sweetheart."

Of the three men she'd vouched for, Elvis was the simplest--and the least civilized. He was good at crime, a veritable prince of Sector Three's black market, and a lecherous asshole. But he didn't have a taste for murder or unwilling sex, which was a glowing fucking character reference compared to most of the men Trent had gathered around him.

Six knocked his hand away and glowered at him. "Still not your sweetheart."

"Okay," he said easily. "Hey, you and the O'Kane girls are tight, yeah?"

She glanced back to the couches, where Noelle was watching her with big, heartbroken eyes while her fingers traced meaningless patterns across Lex's bare collarbone.

She felt like she'd kicked a puppy in the face, which made her even less patient with Elvis. "I guess."

"They look pretty close."

She'd thought Trent had beaten it out of her, but Elvis's transparent, glassy-eyed approval stirred protective anger. "Don't have too much fun looking."

He snorted. "Well, that's the point, right? Show us all the good things we can stare at but never touch?"

Her nails bit into her palms. "I dunno, Elvis. Maybe the point is that they like it?"

"Do they?" He said it almost too casually, his gaze fixed on the women in the corner.

He didn't give a fuck. Oh, he might stroke his dick a little faster at the idea of Lex and Noelle and Rachel being enthusiastic, but only because in his imagination, it was all about
him
. A show for him, or a tease as punishment, and nowhere in his pea-sized brain did they register as people with their own desires.

Her temper slipped free. He had to be half a foot taller than her, but she still grabbed his chin and wrenched his face around, forcing him to meet her eyes. "You leave them alone, you hear me? Something
good
might finally happen to our sector, and I'm not gonna let you ruin it because you're a pervert."

"Jesus Christ, Six." He shoved at her hand and glared at her. "What the hell's your problem? I'm not doing anything."

Her problem? Her problem was that the comfortable shell of numbness that had allowed her to deal with Elvis and the other men from Three was cracking, and rage was bubbling up in its place.

They'd all watched Trent abuse her. Elvis, Cain, even Riff. They'd never participated. Cain had quietly disapproved, and Riff had vanished from the ranks of Trent's men in silent, reproachful protest. Elvis had gone so far as to discourage others from taking advantage of her at Trent's invitation.

That had made them decent in her mind. Hell, it had damn near made them heroes.

But they'd never tried to stop him.

She felt exposed all over again, humiliated and enraged, without the comfortable lie of imagining no one else would have done more. A few weeks in Sector Four had stripped away that delusion. "Why are you here?" she demanded. "To gawk?"

"I came to fight." He said it as if it was obvious, his tone underscored by his mockingly upraised brows. "Fight night?"

It should have made her feel better. The chances were good he'd face an O'Kane, and most of them had protective bullying down to an art. They'd beat some manners into him, make it clear he needed to stop leering at women like every breath they took was for his benefit.

It wouldn't be half as satisfying as beating that lesson into him herself.

Six shoved past him, ignoring the smug laughter that followed. She wasn't tall enough to see through the surrounding crowd, but she knew where Dallas would be. She ducked past fighters and dodged one or two friendly grins before breaking free of the crowd on the far side of the cage.

Her stomach did a funny flip when she saw Bren standing with his leader, already shirtless and barefoot in anticipation of a fight. She'd woken up wrapped around that hard, merciless body, and he'd murmured with sleepy affection as she explored every flexing muscle in the soft light of dawn.

It'd been different, that second time. He'd held back, letting her slide on top of him and set the tempo. But even flat on his back with her riding him to her own orgasm, he managed to seem utterly in control.
Indulgent
, as if he'd give her anything, but remain effortlessly dominant.

He started to smile, but the expression faded as he studied her face. "Everything okay?"

With a deep breath to steady her--not to mention the comfort of Bren's presence--she crossed the space between them and planted herself firmly in front of Dallas O'Kane. "I want to fight in the cage tonight."

Dallas raised both eyebrows, but Bren was too busy surveying the warehouse to catch the man's quizzical look. "Did something happen?" he asked, stepping closer.

So protective, and she didn't know if it soothed her anger or stoked it higher. This was what she'd never had through all those terrible months of Elvis and Riff and Cain sitting by, doing nothing. Someone who gave enough of a shit to
do
something. "It's not like that."

"But, all of a sudden, you want to fight?"

She didn't point out that she'd always wanted to fight, because he'd still want to know why tonight was the night she stood up for it. "Someone's going to kick Elvis's ass tonight. I want to do it."

Dallas spoke. "I'm sure Bren'll do it for you, honey. Free of charge."

Ignoring him, Six held Bren's gaze. "I can do this," she told him softly. "It's how you guys clear the air, isn't it? Elvis and I have a hell of a lot of air to clear."

His jaw tightened. "You climb in the cage when you're pissed, and things can go south real quick. I've been there. You make mistakes."

Out of the corner of her eye, she caught Dallas waving toward the corner. Summoning Lex to wrangle her back into place, no doubt, so Six grabbed Bren's arms and stepped toe-to-toe with him, digging desperately for the words to convince him. "I'm pissed," she admitted hoarsely. "But this isn't all temper, I swear. They took something from me, and if I don't get it back on my own, it won't matter. It won't be
mine
."

"They?"

"Trent. All of them. They made me a victim." Lex was already heading their way, and Six's seconds were numbered. "Help me be something else again."

Lex walked up and slipped her arm around Dallas's neck. "What's up?"

Bren spoke, his eyes still locked with Six's. "The lady wants to fight."

"That so?" Lex whispered something too low to hear in Dallas's ear.

Whatever it was, it drew a heavy sigh from Sector Four's king. Six braced herself for disappointment, the only thing that kept her from bristling when Dallas snapped his fingers at Bren. "Has she got a chance in hell?"

"Against the pretty boy? You bet your ass."

"And when that pretty boy lands a hit or two on her? It'll look bad if you climb in after her to dismember him."

But Bren shook his head. "I'm square. Besides--it wouldn't be a fair fight, a
good
one, if he stood there and let her whale on him."

Six's heart lurched painfully. "You believe I can do it."

"Because you can." He brushed a stray lock of hair from her forehead. "Watch your ribs while you're swinging, don't telegraph your moves, and get this out of the way. He looks like a hair puller."

Dallas groaned. "Jesus fucking Christ, it's the end of fucking days all over again." He moved Bren aside with a hand on his shoulder and forced Six to face him. It was hard--Dallas O'Kane had what Wilson Trent had only dreamed of, the kind of sheer presence that carried easy power. He took up too much space and radiated the sort of danger that made you want to roll over in pure animal submission, anything to keep him pleased with you.

He didn't look pleased right now. He watched her like she was a splinter shoved under his thumbnail, and he didn't know if he could dig her out. "I knew you were gonna be a pain in my ass," he said finally. "You kick the shit out of that fucker, you hear me? I don't have time for Bren to go swearing blood vengeance on my new sector."

She'd mostly wrapped her head around the notion that Bren would protect her. The idea that he cared enough to go on a rampage after the damage was already done was strange and intimidating, but she didn't hate it. "You heard him. He wants a fair fight."

"So he's telling himself." Dallas shook his head and jabbed a finger at Lex. "You better be right."

For a moment, Six thought the woman might just bite him, but she only smiled slowly. "Does it ever go well when you doubt me? A king should have a little faith in his queen."

Laughing, Dallas sank a hand into Lex's hair and dragged her to him. "This is more than a
little
faith, love." Then he was kissing her, hot and rough and wild, and for once Six didn't avert her gaze.

Lex lingered before breaking the kiss with a sharp bite at the corner of his mouth. Then she ran over to the cage, using the momentum of her speed to hop up on a crate beside it. "I hope you bloodthirsty bastards brought your betting money tonight. We've got a fight night first--a lady in the cage."

Hoots and cheers greeted her words, along with one punk at the fringes of the room who yelled, "Cat fight!"

"You wish, you stupid fuck." Lex's cool smile shut him up, and a new hush fell over the room.

It wasn't a joke, the kind of show put on for money next door at the Broken Circle. No naked mud-wrestling, but a fucking
fight
, with blood and blows--and wagers.

Six stripped off her boots and dug into her pocket for her precious wad of cash. Not all of it--she'd found a dozen hiding places to squirrel away her valuables, all of them readily accessible if she ever needed to run. But the largest bills she kept on her, and she pressed them into Bren's hand. "Make me some fucking money, huh?"

"I'll place the bets. You win the fight."

"Done." And because it meant that much, she rolled up on her toes and kissed him once, quick and fleeting, before spinning away. There was too much excitement roiling through her already to add the taste of him to the mix. Besides, Lex was watching, waiting for her to climb into the cage and call Elvis out.

Pulse racing, she hauled open the cage door. The concrete was cool under her bare feet, and the audience seemed oddly removed, their faces bisected and obscured by the crisscrossing metal. She was the object of everyone's attention, as scrutinized as she'd ever been on a stage, but this was different.

This was where she felt strong.

Twisting in a slow circle, she scanned the crowd until she found the familiar blond hair and pretty face. "Elvis," she called out. "You're here to fight. Let's fight."

He held both hands out to his sides. "You've got to be shitting me, Six."

It didn't matter that smiles were still awkward for her. One came easily now, and she knew how she must look, grinning wildly in Lex's leather pants. Dangerous. Untouchable. "Don't worry, it's not to the death or anything. You can tap out when you've had enough."

"No way. You've lost your fucking mind." But he kicked off his shoes and tugged at his shirt in spite of the denial.

The crowd erupted in cheers and shouts as money flashed and bets were laid. Elvis climbed in the cage, and Lex slammed the door shut behind him.

Just like that, the crowd was gone. Everything outside the ring ceased to exist, leaving her and him and the unforgiving cement that one of them would be kissing before too long. "How 'bout a wager, El? Just between you and me."

He eyed her warily. "What kind?"

"If I win, you go a month without saying a single lewd thing to any O'Kane woman. Or leering at them, either."

"Done. We don't even have to fight."

It didn't make her feel better. It made her feel naked, because the emotion lurking behind his eyes wasn't fear or dislike, it was
pity
. A few years ago, he would have faced her with anticipation and determination and wary respect, because Trent had picked her for a reason. She'd had a reputation.

No one remembered it. They looked at her now and saw a victim, and as long as she had to face that reflected back at her everywhere she turned, it was all she'd ever be. They'd smother what was left of her pride in well-meaning sympathy.

Words wouldn't change it. Action would. So she feinted, just enough of a swing to give him a warning, because she didn't want anyone saying she'd taken a sucker shot. He brought his hands up, ready to block, and she twisted in under his arms and drilled him in the ribs.

"Ow, fuck!" He staggered back with another, harsher curse.

Her body shifted, ready to press the advantage on instinct, but she held back. "Fight me. Don't you fucking dare hold back."

"I don't
want
to hit you, you crazy bitch!"

"Why not?" She swung again, smacking him in the side with only enough force to irritate, not injure. "You watched other people do it for months."

"You think I liked it?" He deflected her third blow with a sweep of his arm. "You think we didn't sit around and try to think of ways to get you out of there, me and Riff and Cain?"

"Yeah, I'm sure it sucked for you." She rammed her shoulder into his, pushing him against the cage bars. "Did you sit around and think about ways to get all the other girls out, too?"

He finally struck back this time, shoving her toward the center of the ring. "We should have fought him, right? Easy way to get dead."

"Then you made your choice." He blocked her next jab, smacking aside her wrist hard enough to bruise. Bren would be pissed if she ended up with too many, but she didn't dare spare a moment to look for him.

Instead, she aimed the next punch straight at Elvis's perfectly chiseled jaw.