Beyond Pain (22 page)

Given time, Six might get used to sitting across a desk from someone she'd watched scream her way through a couple orgasms the night before.

She wasn't used to it yet.

It was hard not to fidget as she sat in Lex's office, waiting for the woman to get around to telling her why she'd been ordered to stay behind while Bren went out to help clear the roads in Three. But Lex only lit a cigarette and watched her, studying every flinch and wriggle.

Finally, she spoke. "You feeling uncomfortable, honey?"

Six could only hope she wasn't blushing. "First time for everything, right?"

"Uh-huh." Lex grinned slowly. "Don't worry. I'm not gonna lay you out on the desk and have my wicked way with you."

At least that sounded teasing. Six relaxed and pulled the straightest face she could. "Not even if I ask nice?"

"Oh, you're not ready for me, sweetheart." Lex propped her elbows on the desk. "Question is, what
are
you ready for? Dallas thinks a little ink might be in your near future."

Her heart stopped beating.

Ink. Her gaze dropped to Lex's wrists, tracing the lines around the O'Kane emblem, the one Rachel had tattooed across her chest in a symbol of pride and pleasure. It meant security and safety. Belonging. It meant having a family again. Hell, maybe for the first time.

And it meant trusting more than just Bren. She'd have to trust everyone--first and foremost, Dallas O'Kane.

She wet her lips. "Bren wants me in?"

"I haven't asked him. And I'm not going to."

"Oh." She sounded stupid, and she felt it, too. "So it's not because he and I have a thing?"

Lex's dark gaze sharpened. "Becoming an O'Kane isn't about being some guy's old lady. If that's all you want, you've got it already. But I thought you were after more. Something that's yours."

"Yes." The word escaped on its own, raw and hoarse. "But I kinda stopped believing in that."

"So had I, once upon a time." Lex arched an eyebrow. "Do you know how I ended up here?"

There were so many rumors and conflicting legends it was hard to tell which one might hold a shred of truth, so she shook her head.

"Dallas caught me with my hand in his safe. And before you start thinking that's a clever euphemism..." Lex finished her cigarette and crushed it out. "I was ripping him off."

Of course she was. "And he put up with that?"

"Put up with it?" She snorted. "He got off on it, once he realized I wasn't going to snivel--or worse, try to pacify him with a half-hearted blowjob."

It was a common thread, but not because of Trent. Bren was the one who seemed to like Six violent and rough around the edges. "So Dallas let you into the gang?"

"Not hardly. But he let me stick around, and that was a start."

"I guess." She didn't want to ask the next question, but she had to. With her heart so fragile and messed up, it'd be foolish not to be careful. "So if I take the ink, I get to stay no matter what? Even if Bren and I don't work out?"

To her credit, Lex's reply was far from glib. "It might not be easy, but you'd find some way to coexist. The gang comes first. Rule number one."

And you'd still want me?
The question balanced on the tip of her tongue, but it revealed too much. That was the kind of question a victim would ask, some broken-ass bitch who didn't think she was worth shit unless a guy was sticking his dick in her.

She was more than that. She was all the things she'd wanted to be for Trent, all the things he'd never let her be. She was tough, she knew Sector Three, and she was willing to get her hands dirty to get things done. Dallas O'Kane didn't need to
want
her. He could use her. And he could give her something in return.

"The gang first," she echoed. "Does that mean I can keep helping in Three?"

"If that's what you want," Lex allowed. "That's not really a paid position, though, so you'll probably want to keep up your shifts at the bar."

Half the gang was over in Three now, busting their asses dragging rubble out of the roads to clear enough room for trucks to get through. It wouldn't be fun, but it might be more satisfying than hauling drinks. "Is anyone getting paid to work in Three?"

"What, you mean the road work?" Lex shook her head. "You get paid for things that pull in cash. Three doesn't qualify--yet. But most of the guys understand we can't make any money over there until we get it in order."

Oh. Cash still meant security, which meant finding a way to get it. The windfall with the cage match could only work so many times--she couldn't beat everyone, even if Dallas let her fight again. And the more she managed to win, the narrower the odds would be.

Dancing wasn't an option. Neither was fucking on stage, not in this lifetime. And no matter how much Bren made her smile, she wasn't going to be able to fake it for tips. "Is bartending the only paying gig for women? I mean, if we're not dancers."

"No hard-and-fast rules, honey. I'm the queen, remember?" Lex shrugged and held out both hands to her sides. "You want to do something else? Convince me."

Six felt her brows rise. "Even if what I want to do is dangerous? You'd back me?"

"Sure, why not? I'd hope you'd have enough sense in your head not to take on a job you can't handle just to prove something."

She couldn't help her laugh. "If I wanted out of this life, I've had more than my share of chances. It's not that I mind working the bar, but I'm not good at it. The only guys who tip me decent are the ones who get off on women glaring at them. I'd be more useful doing something where I'm not supposed to put men at ease."

"Such as?"

Six grinned. "Throwing them out on their faces if they cause trouble? Lord knows they won't see me coming."

Lex leaned back in her chair. "We could use another bouncer," she mused. "It's not very glamorous, but you'd get to smash a few heads now and then."

Excitement sparked, the kind Six hadn't felt in months.
Years
, maybe. "I don't need glamour. I get that even if you and Dallas and every guy wearing ink thought I was tough enough, it'd still be stupid to send me out to do what they do. It's image, right?"

"Partly. The rest is about being able to back up the promise of that ink." Lex's expression turned serious. "If you think you'll have an easier time dealing with dickheads just because you're inside these walls, think again. And you've
got
to be able to back it up, or someone'll end up dead."

It was a solemn statement, and it deserved the same in return. "Ask Bren. He knows what I can do, and what he's teaching me to do better. If he doesn't think I can do it, I'll work until he does."

"That's fair--" A knock interrupted her words, and Lex gestured toward the door with a nod. A queen, expecting her minion to jump at the wave of her hand.

Six jumped.

It was Emma, nervously playing with the end of one bleached-blonde lock. "Is Lex in there?"

Six glanced over her shoulder and, at Lex's nod, pulled the door wide. "Come on in."

"Thanks." Her nervousness didn't fade. If anything, it cranked higher as she faced Lex. "I hear you guys have been looking for someone who might be in Three. Some tech guy named Noah."

"We are," Lex confirmed.

"I know him," Emma blurted. "I mean, I used to. He was friends with my brother back in Sector Five."

"Seriously?" Six asked, swinging around to study Emma again. She was one of the newer O'Kanes, one who'd taken ink not long after Six's arrival. They had to be around the same age, but something about Emma seemed young in a way Six had always assumed meant she was from a sheltered family, maybe even from inside Eden itself.

Five might not be the shithole Three was, but the man who ran it was a scary motherfucker.

Emma crossed her arms over her middle. "If I get him a message, he'll come. He'd do that much."

Lex studied her before rising with a sigh. "You know why Dallas wants him, don't you?"

"Information." Emma swallowed. "Noah can get him that. Noah can do anything."

"Okay, then. We'll put out word that you need him."

Six wanted desperately to pry, to demand to know Noah's story. Who he was, how he'd ended up smart and crazy and living in the tunnels under Three while thugs ransacked the sector, trying to find him. But she recognized Emma's posture all too well. Defensive and wary, pain edging her eyes.

And the words.
Noah can do anything.
So rawly confident, despite her sadness. That was probably how Six would sound about Bren, if things went to hell. And he
could
. Bren could do so many things.

But there was one thing she could only do for herself. So Six pivoted back to Lex. "About that other thing--I'm ready for all of it."

Lex rubbed her temples. "I'm on it. Both of you, out."

Six felt sure enough to give Lex a grinning salute before following Emma into the hallway. And though talking had never been her thing, the hurt lingering in the other woman's eyes made her hesitate. "Hey, you okay?"

"I'm--" The words cut off as Emma swung to face her. "You're from Three, and you seem like you know him. Noah?"

"Kind of," Six answered honestly. "We were never friends or anything, but he was nice to the street kids. Helped them find safe places to live sometimes."

She squeezed her eyes shut. "Of course he did."

Wishing she knew what to say that would make things better, Six touched her arm. "Emma?"

When she opened her eyes, it was with a calm smile. "Never mind. Hey, congratulations on your match last night. That asshole had it coming."

"Thanks." It was easy to smile back. No, to
grin
. "I guess we'll see if he polishes up his manners, huh?"

"He'd better." Emma jerked her head toward the end of the hall. "I've got to go. See you around?"

There was nothing to do but nod and watch Emma bolt. Six caught herself rubbing her thumb over her wrist again, and she stared down at the bare skin, trying to imagine it circled with ink.

It was still mostly a dream. Lex hadn't offered the ink outright or told her it was definitely coming soon. But she'd talked like Six belonged, like she could be more than some girl slinging drinks. Like she could be anything she had the wits and strength to become.

A home, if she was brave enough to believe in it. A home no one could take away from her.

Not even Bren.

The last person she expected to barge in on inventory day was Cruz.

She blinked up at him, setting aside her clipboard as she fought to cover her suddenly galloping heartbeat with nonchalance. "Can I help you?"

His expression was just as bland, though he looked rough around the edges. "Someone said the medkit was in here."

Her nervousness slipped away in the face of a potential emergency. "It is. What happened?"

"Nothing bad," he assured her quickly, then pulled up his shirt to reveal the chiseled muscles of his abdomen--and a large bandage. "Need to change this."

Rachel peeled back the edge of the bandage and winced. It was a nice-sized slice, one that had been neatly but inexpertly sutured. What concerned her was the blazing heat of his reddened skin. "What did you do, sew this up yourself?"

His long pause was answer enough, but he clearly felt her disapproval because he tried to justify it. "We're stretched thin, trying to clear those roads."

"It's not so dire you can't spare ten minutes," she protested. "A little gel, and I could have had you fixed right up. Now, you'll need antibiotics."

She could almost hear him grinding his teeth. "Then I'll take the antibiotics."

It stung. Had he cared so little for his own well-being that he'd neglected to care for a simple cut, or had he needed so desperately to avoid her that he'd decided to chance infection?

She jerked open the cabinet and pulled out the medical case. "If you need med-gel, you don't have to come to me. You can get it from Dallas's office."

He reached out to brace the heavy box for her. "His office wasn't any closer."

"Then I really don't understand." She unzipped the case and snatched up a bottle of antiseptic. "Don't you give a shit?"

"I wasn't trained to give a shit. I was trained to stay alive long enough to get the job done, and deal with the consequences later." His arms flexed as he dragged his shirt over his head and tossed it aside. "It worked better when I had access to a regen lab."

Remorse stabbed at her. "I'm sorry," she mumbled, dabbing at the cut. "We don't have the same kind of resources around here. You'll have to be more careful."

He didn't flinch, didn't give any indication her touch hurt, though it must have. "I know. I didn't mean to upset you."

Such perfect control. But she'd seen a different side of him, felt him tremble beneath her hands and mouth when that control had failed him. There, in the dark, for those few stolen moments, he'd been hers.

Not that it mattered now.

She tried not to stare at the muscled expanse of his abdomen as she struggled to find an innocuous answer. "I'm not upset," she said finally. "You're the one who gets a needle to the ass cheek now."

That
got his attention. All those glorious muscles tensed as he jerked back. "A
what
?"

"A shot. The antibiotics that were no big deal a minute ago?" She capped the antiseptic and reached for a single-use gel applicator. "If you're worried about flashing your ass at me, don't be. It's nothing I haven't already seen."

It should have flustered him. A month ago it would have, but now his eyes narrowed in what looked like suspicion. "You still use needles to administer antibiotics?"

"Oh, for Christ's--" Rachel bit her tongue. "Yes. Yes, we do."

His lips twitched. "If it helps, all the doctors hated me. I'm not a biddable patient."

"No shit." A laugh bubbled up and, for a moment, it was as if nothing had changed. They were just two people, laughing at each other and themselves, discovering one breath at a time what it meant to be special to someone.

But it was an illusion. Because of her, things
were
different, and they couldn't go back. So she swallowed her laughter, fell silent, and busied herself with squeezing the med-gel onto his wound in a thin, careful line.