Beyond Pain (29 page)

Christ, he hadn't
seen
anything, just Cruz, shirtless with his belt hanging open. Then again, Cruz was the next best thing to a fucking prude. Ace had had an easier time getting into the pants of city virgins.

Not that he was trying to get into the man's pants. No, he was trying to get someone
else
into them, someone who could shake a few of those Eden hang-ups--

"The other night, after the fights? Word is that Rachel hooked up with Dallas and Lex. I don't know if it was a one-time thing or what, but that's what I heard."

His mind shuddered to a halt, and he stared at Emma. "She did
what
?"

"Yeah, that's what I said." Emma tilted her head. "Shit, you really didn't know?"

"No." But there was no way Rachel would lead Cruz on if she'd been jumping in between Dallas and Lex. Which meant whatever he'd walked in on couldn't have been the two of them scrambling to hide sexual evidence.

"If that's not why you're brooding in my bed, what gives?"

He took the whiskey and downed a healthy swig, letting the familiar burn settle him. "I'm an artist, Em. We brood. It's why all the chicks wanna fuck us. You should know, since Jas has to pry Noelle off you with a crowbar."

"Or I'm just that good." Emma shrugged. "I don't know, you're taking this awfully well. I thought Rachel was your big unrequited, deathless love. Your favorite thing that was never gonna happen."

The word
unrequited
stung, but not as much as the word
never
. Combined, they pissed him off. "What, so she fucked Dallas and Lex. Who hasn't?"

"Well,
I
haven't. That doesn't seem fair."

Her sincere irritation was adorable enough to slice through his, and any opportunity to change the damn subject was a gift. "Next time you're playing grab-ass with Noelle, tell her that. You haven't lived until you've gotten all up in between those four."

"Really?" Emma leaned closer and flashed him an impish, knowing smile. "Who ends up on top?"

Ace laughed and tugged at her hair. "You've been around long enough to know the answer to that, kid. Whoever the ladies decide they want on top."

"In a pile like that? I'd be hard-pressed to choose."

"You already did." He nodded to her wrist. "O'Kane for life, eh?"

"For life," she agreed, then smiled softly and snuggled down into the crook of his arm. "You're not going to tell me what's got you so down tonight, are you?"

"You're talking like I even know," he said lightly, leaning over to set the whiskey bottle on the floor. "Maybe it's just weird, seeing Bren act like he's in love. You have no idea what he was like when he first showed up. Concrete was more sentimental."

Emma laughed. "I think it's sweet. Like there's someone for everyone, and it's Fate they both wound up here."

The hell of it was, it
had
been sweet. Intense. That moment after they'd driven Six over the edge, when Bren's gaze had met his--that was always Ace's favorite part. The shared sense of accomplishment, the feeling of working together to bring a woman outside herself. He got off on it almost as much as the sex.

All of the intimacy, with none of the responsibility.

But today Six had lifted her face to nuzzle into Bren's neck, totally possessive and totally possessed, and Ace had felt...

Envy. Longing.
Something.

Emma stroked a soothing hand over his chest. Finally, she spoke, quiet and serious. "You don't have to listen to me, but I think maybe wanting something isn't enough sometimes. You have to wait until you need it so bad nothing else matters, and that's when you're ready for it."

Until he needed what? To try to shoehorn himself in between Jas and Noelle? Or Bren and Six?

Or Cruz and Rachel?

Fuck his imagination, anyway, because the image didn't even form. It was just
there
, fully realized, hot enough to stir his cock. Cruz, all those fine-as-fuck muscles flexing as he held Rachel in place and told Ace how hard the next stroke should fall, both of them reveling in her cries, her writhing. Or Christ, pumping his fingers into her pussy while he watched her blow Cruz.

Helped her.

No.

He shoved away the thought and forced himself to laugh. "Don't you go getting all philosophical on me, junior. You're my apprentice, and that means you have to live up to my reputation. We're hot, we're shallow, and everyone wants to fuck us because we know all the best tricks."

"Right." She stretched across him, reaching for a sketchpad on the nightstand. "Want to take a look at some drawings before you split?"

Okay, maybe that had been
too
defensive. He let his hair fall over his brow and gave her big eyes. "You kickin' me out?"

"Oh, please. You're not gonna stay." She gave him a pointed look over the top of the sketchpad. "I might get my
feelings
all over you."

So much for that. He slapped a hand over his eyes and groaned. "Why did saddling myself with a smartass sidekick seem like a good idea?"

"Because I keep you humble, and Lord knows you need it?"

Even better, she kept him distracted. Slamming the door on fantasy, he flung his arm wide. "Yeah, yeah. Fine, show me the sketches."

It'd do. For now.

"Christ, did this twitchy bastard pick the creepiest place in the Sector to meet?"

Bren grinned. The railyard was a mess of ripped-up steel and graffiti-riddled train cars, but it was open, with plenty of spots to take cover--just in case. "You should have been here last time, Dallas. I had to chat with him under Wilson Trent's murder bridge."

"Someone's been watching too many old movies." Dallas checked his watch and sighed. "Not much for punctuality, either, is he?"

"He has a flair for the dramatic."

"Great. He and Ace can start a club."

"I don't think--" A barely audible crunch on the gravel behind them interrupted the words. Bren spun, one hand already on the pistol beneath his jacket. "That's a good way to get shot in the fucking face, Lennox."

Noah stopped, both hands held out to his side. "Bad habit. I'll work on breaking it."

Bren relaxed, his heart still racing, and waved in introduction. "Dallas O'Kane, Noah Lennox."

"Lennox."

"O'Kane."

The two men sized each other up, both careful to keep their expressions bland. The silence grew heavy, until Noah broke it by running a hand nervously through his hair. "Scarlet tells me you're trying to clean house in Three."

"He is.
We
are," Bren corrected, edging closer. "She sent us a message, said you had information about something going down. Something big?"

"The what is bad enough. It's the who that I think you'll be real interested in."

"So spit it the hell out," Dallas growled. "I don't have time for games."

Noah's gaze flicked to Bren. "Russell Miller."

The name sent chills down Bren's spine and raised the hair on his arms--and, judging from the look on Noah's face, he'd already made the connection. "My commanding officer from Special Tasks."

Dallas's head whipped around. "The bastard who burned you?"

"Yeah." Bren took another step forward. "What's Miller up to out here?"

Noah reached inside his jacket, moving slowly, and pulled out a small tablet. "Dealing in the kind of merchandise you'd better put a stop to," he said seriously, holding the tech out to Dallas. "People."

Dallas's eyes narrowed. "You're telling me some MP big shot is engaging in human trafficking in Three?"

Lennox shrugged. "Ask him if Miller's capable of it."

After claiming the tablet, Dallas slanted a look toward Bren. "Is he?"

Russell Miller was capable of torture, rape, murder--any goddamn thing you could think of, and probably a good handful of things a decent person couldn't imagine. "A hundred and ten percent."

Dallas's face hardened. "Is everything on here?"

"Everything I could find."

"And how much is it gonna cost us?"

Noah waved a hand. "The information is free. The price is dealing with it."

"All right." Dallas handed the tablet to Bren without looking away from Noah. "Bren?"

"Watch yourself," he found himself saying. "Miller's not just another asshole out to make a buck. He's Eden-trained. He knows better than to run an operation without proper intel, which means he's got someone local. Someone who probably knows your face."

"Oh, I'm taking care." Noah met Bren's eyes, serious and a little wary. "I know the sorts of things an Eden-trained soldier is capable of doing."

For once, Bren welcomed the condemnation. "Good. Then you might stay alive."

As much as she was starting to enjoy waking up with Bren, Six still loved having her own room with a door that locked, even if it was full of furniture someone else had picked out for her.

No, especially because of that.

She never would have chosen a bed with a solid, elegant headboard carved from real wood. She wouldn't have dared go for all the shit that had come with it, either. A dresser and mirror, table and chairs, solid pieces that had been dusted and shined, any one item worth more credits than she'd seen in a year as a teenager.

At first, every damn thing an O'Kane had given her had felt like a weight around her neck, a debt she'd have to repay before she could begin squirreling away enough money to build a new life. Now, they felt like something else. Gestures of good faith.

Or gifts from family.

Her favorite gift was on the couch. She kicked her boots into the corner and swept up the tablet, activating it with a quick swipe across the screen as she curled up on the couch, ready to continue the latest book Noelle had helped her download.

But her book didn't open. Instead, a message appeared, one the tablet began to read in its friendly, feminine voice. As the words rolled out of the tiny speakers, her stomach sank.

Six--

Maybe the good's worth the bad, but everyone deserves full disclosure. Watch it all before you make any choices you can't take back.

Noah

Before she had a chance to wonder what she was supposed to watch, a video popped up, filling the screen. Bren's face stared up at her, at least a decade younger. Some of the rough angles and scars she'd traced with her fingertips were gone, and his nose looked a little straighter.

A man behind the camera's field of view spoke. "What was your mission objective?"

"To stop the trafficking, sir," Bren answered immediately.

The unseen man cleared his throat and repeated the question. "What was your mission objective?"

Bren shifted in his chair. "Sorry, sir. Our objective was to find the subjects wanted for trafficking and eliminate them."

"Did you?"

"I terminated one of the targets. My team took care of the other three."

"And yet you fired..." paper rustled, "...twenty-two rounds. For four targets? That sounds like a sloppy operation, soldier."

"It was--" Bren swallowed hard and looked away from the camera for the first time. "They had captives, sir. Lieutenant Miller told us we had to leave them."

"So you executed them."

"He told us we had to leave them."

Six slapped at the tablet. The video paused, leaving Bren frozen, his gaze fixed somewhere off camera, his face turned away.

Her gut churned. The air in the room felt stale, stuffy. She rasped in a breath and then another, forcing herself to breathe slowly, forcing herself to
think
.

She barely knew how to operate tech, but she'd seen Noelle and Nessa run enough movies. Placing her finger on the slider along the bottom, she dragged it backwards, until it was flush against the left side of the tablet.

When she lifted her finger, the video started again.

It was no easier to watch the second time. The word
trafficking
echoed inside her skull, banging against her temples and scraping at mental doors she'd bolted firmly shut. Bren's voice came again.
"They had captives, sir. Lieutenant Miller told us we had to leave them."

Shuddering, she silenced the screaming in her head and dragged the marker back to the beginning, as if listening a third time would change the content.

"Do you know how much each of your rifle rounds costs this city, Officer Donnelly?"

Silence.

"Was that an appropriate and necessary allocation of resources?"

"No, sir." Then Bren's chin rose, and a quiet sort of defiance lit his eyes. "But I'd do it again."

She smacked her palm down on the tablet, silencing the voice and obscuring Bren's face. The walls were pressing in, making her room feel too small, too dark.

It had been dark in the back of the trucks, too. Endless dark, with only the crying of the younger children to remind her she wasn't alone. It had taken years before she could stand the dark again, even more before she'd learned to love it for how easy it made to hide.

"So you executed them."

Bren had come across captives. People snatched from their lives, kidnapped, lost in the dark and doomed to God only knew what fate. And he'd shot them.