Beyond Temptation

by Kit Rocha

  It was Lex, perched on the edge of the mattress, with Dallas standing beside her.

  His gaze jumped straight to her throat, eyes narrowing. "Who?"

  Her hand rose automatically to cover the wound, and Emma forced herself to relax. "Some asshole from Five, one of Fleming's enforcers. Don't worry, he's dead."

  "And Lennox?"

  She looked away. "I'm assuming he's fine."

  Lex rose. "Are you all right?"

  How the hell could she answer that when she could barely feel anything beyond a sick, burning knot in her gut? "Did you know?"

  It had to be bad for Dallas's eyes to soften like that. "You're gonna need to be more specific, darling."

  To her credit, Lex didn't try to deflect. Instead, she muttered a curse and sighed. "I told Lennox to keep his mouth shut. Ordered him to, even, so if you want to be mad, here I am."

  As if he'd ever planned on telling her. Emma snorted. "That's real self-sacrificing of you. It's also bullshit."

  Dallas laid a hand on Lex's shoulder and kept his gaze on Emma. "Did he tell you?"

  "No." That would involve Noah stepping back, treating her like an adult by not trying to protect her constantly. "I found out from the guy who almost slit my throat instead. That was much easier to take than hearing it from a friend."

  "Careful." It only took three of Dallas's ground-devouring steps to cross the space between them. He lifted her face with one gentle finger under her chin and studied the wound. "No, this isn't how it should have come out. But I told him to hold his damn tongue because I needed to know what sort of man he was."

  "He's--" Her voice cracked, and she squeezed her eyes shut.

  Lex made a soft noise and rubbed her bare shoulder. "Oh, honey."

  Dallas slid his fingers around to the back of Emma's neck, his touch soothing and affectionate. Safe. "Hard truths are simple until it's time to lay them on the people we love. I didn't want him dumping his guilt on you and splitting."

  "He wouldn't." Instead, he'd be leaving her to face all those inevitable hard truths, dazed and unsteady. Unprepared.

  "Would or wouldn't, it's not about him. Not right now, not with us."

  "I know." The painful knot in her throat migrated to her chest. "My brother sold me."

  "Yeah." Lex tugged her down to sit on the end of the bed and wrapped both arms around her. "It sucks. And I don't give a damn if he is dead, you get mad, Emma. Because that was shitty."

  "No fucking excuse." Dallas sighed and crouched in front of her. "But it was never about you, and I know you know that. That shit Fleming cooks up is toxic. Doesn't just make people addicts, it makes them crazy."

  "Yeah." The worst part was that she understood that. Cib never would have done it if he'd been in his right mind. What really hurt was all the years she'd spent not knowing what had happened or why or how-- "Do you know what happened?"

  "From what I've heard?" Lex hesitated. "He took on a delivery for Fleming, but instead of selling the drugs--"

  "He took them himself," Emma finished flatly.

  "He took them," Lex confirmed, pulling her closer. "Then he had to pay up."

  Amazing how still her hands were, when inside, Emma was dying. "I blamed myself. I thought he'd had a run-in with someone because of his job, because he was trying to support me. I thought if only I hadn't been there, dragging him down, he would have been all right."

  "Ah, love." Dallas's hands were huge and covered hers completely. "That's bullshit. Fleming was the weight around his ankles, but he tied it on his damn self. Don't you ever think otherwise."

  Easy for him to say. "I might not have assumed it was my fault if anyone had bothered to tell me the truth."

  "Fair enough." He kissed her forehead and rocked to his feet. "One more question. Does Lennox need to stay the fuck away from this sector?"

  "No." Hating Noah would be straightforward, simple. Better than feeling betrayed by his lack of faith in her strength. "No, he and I are square."

  "Emma..."

  "He belongs here, Dallas." Nothing less than the truth. "You know it."

  He grunted. "We'll see. Lex?"

  "Go on." She twisted a wet lock of Emma's hair around her finger until the door slammed behind Dallas, then she shook her head. "He needs to hit something. Probably not Noah, though."

  Emma laughed helplessly and grimaced as she gestured to her cut. "Don't make me giggle. It hurts."

  "In more ways than one," Lex murmured. "Look, honey. I could say a lot of stuff right now, and none of it would help, not one damn bit. So let me just tell you that I don't know how you feel, not exactly...but I've come close to a lot of it."

  Lex knew about being sold, and Lex knew about betrayal. How much did she know about heartbreak? "I gave him everything."

  "Everything?"

  "Mind, body, and soul."

  "And heart." Lex sighed and stroked her hair. "If you gave him that, you know it's not that simple to take it back. Walking away is hard as hell."

  She didn't want to walk, but how was she supposed to move past the knowledge that she'd been floating through the past four years, living a lie? And, Christ--what if Noah's guilt ran deeper than even he realized, and the connection he felt to her was because of it?

  She wished for numbness now, but the only thing she couldn't feel was her lips as she mumbled, "I guess I need to talk to him."

  "Later," Lex said firmly. "Right now, we worry about you, baby girl. That's all."

  Relief left her weak as she leaned in to Lex's comforting embrace. She'd be strong in front of Noah--she'd be steel--but here...

  Here, she could afford to cry, just a little.

  The bar in Sector Three was no Broken Circle, but it was a lot nicer than it had been before Dallas and his people took over and started cleaning things up. Under the previous owner, Noah would have expected to get jumped for his spare cash within five minutes of crossing the threshold.

  If the man approaching Noah's table kicked his ass, it wouldn't be for anything as trivial as money. And he had it coming.

  Bren slid into a chair and raised both eyebrows. "Is there a reason you dragged me all the way over here, Lennox?"

  Because he didn't trust himself anywhere near Emma, not with desperate loss shredding him up from the inside out. But he couldn't admit that to Bren, so he slid the data chip across the table instead. "Everything your boss needs."

  Bren pocketed the chip with a nod. "You didn't answer my question."

  That was the problem with hardcore Special Tasks soldiers, present or former. Once they locked on to a target, it was impossible to distract them. "Did Six ever tell you about what I did?"

  "You mean handing her all my military evaluation vids?"

  It had felt righteous at the time. Right. Six had barely known Noah, but he'd felt like he knew her all too well. She represented the worst of what could have happened to Emma--a tough girl sweet-talked by the criminal leader of Sector Three, and too tangled up in his bullshit to break free by the time he started to hurt her.

  So when Six ended up with Dallas O'Kane, with Bren, it had seemed like the decent thing to do--make sure she wouldn't get blindsided a second time.

  What a smug fucking hypocrite Noah was. "I thought I was giving her what she needed. Knowledge. Turns out, it's easier to tell other people's secrets than your own."

  "No shit." One of the dancers, a pink-haired girl in platform heels and not much else, set a drink in front of Bren, and he picked it up. "You were right not to come to Four. I wouldn't say Dallas is gunning for you, but he sure wouldn't mind fucking your face up a little."

  "There's a long line for the privilege." The need to ask about Emma throbbed in Noah's chest, but he ignored it. "I shouldn't have brought her with me. Dallas brushed it off, but I knew Fleming would come at me."

  "What, the fight?" Bren downed his drink. "I doubt that has much to do with our fearless leader's desire to punch the shit out of you."

  "It should," Noah retorted, and even s
elf-preservation couldn't keep the anger out of his voice. "I painted a target on her back, and now I have to figure out how to fix that."

  "A smart man uses his skills to his best advantage." Bren slanted him a look. "I thought you were a smart man."

  It was an echo of Emma's plea for him to use his brain, and that drew a morbid smile. "I've always been a smart man, but I guess I lack inspiration."

  "So get inspired. Get motivated." Bren rose and shoved his hands in his jacket pockets. "Get it done, and make it right."

  He'd gotten inspired the moment that knife touched Emma's throat, but the plan hadn't come until he'd forced himself to watch her walk away. A crazy plan. A fucking reckless one that might end with a bullet between his eyes.

  But if it worked out, she'd be free. And so would he.

  Noah stood, as well. "If what I have planned works, O'Kane will forgive me. If it doesn't..."

  "It better. Don't make her cry again."

  Better to make Emma cry than to leave her with a second lifetime of regrets. Of guilt. "If it doesn't," he repeated softly, "tell her I did it for me. That I was tired of running."

  Bren hesitated, then nodded slowly. "I'll tell her you did what you had to do. For yourself."

  "And take care of her, Donnelly. Promise me."

  "Emma can take care of herself."

  Physically, maybe. He believed that now. But in every other way... If the persistent ache in his formerly numb heart was anything to go by, the O'Kanes were the most vulnerable bastards around. There was a certain safety in not feeling. In hopelessness. No disappointment, no regret, just dull relief that you were still breathing when the sun set.

  Joy and hope were better. Brighter. But they made loss cut so damn deep. "Take care of her heart."

  Bren started for the door before calling back over his shoulder. "She's an O'Kane. That makes her family."

  Family. Not always a rousing endorsement, especially for Emma. But this time, Noah would believe in it. He had to believe, and then he had to forget. He wasn't an actor, but he didn't need to lie for this, just tell the worst parts of the truths he'd tried to hide from all those years.

  Freedom wouldn't come cheap, but she was worth it.

  Mac Fleming didn't look evil.

  He seemed pleasant enough on the outside. Handsome, Noah supposed, though women seemed equally transfixed by his aura of power--and his money. He sat behind a polished desk, his expensive suit just rumpled enough to suggest he'd been interrupted in the middle of something.

  Probably banging his latest mistress. Mac had a wife and family tucked away on the edge of the sector, but Noah had spent over two decades running the tech for his factories without hearing Fleming speak about them more than a handful of times.

  "Noah," he said casually, an unmistakable thread of glee wreathing the word. "What a pleasant surprise. I've looked everywhere for you, and here you come--walking into my office."

  Noah didn't bother to hide his disdain. He didn't need to. "It only seemed right to tell you in person that Hobbs isn't coming back."

  "Now that isn't so much a surprise." Fleming pulled a cigar from a humidor on his desk and snipped the end. "Who did him in? Was it you or Cibulski's sister?"

  Hearing her name on Fleming's lips was chilling, but it worked for the game. "So you know she's there."

  Fleming laughed. "She's not exactly incognito, shaking her tits in O'Kane's club, is she? Didn't even change her name."

  Noah's hands fisted, and he embraced the anger. Let it play across his face, a true emotion he used to spin the lie that followed. "O'Kane's a lot less subtle than you are. When making her dance didn't draw me out, he tattooed his fucking mark on her."

  Fleming sparked an antique lighter and puffed at his cigar as he lit it. "Did he? That's your property, not his."

  "I know," he ground out, and goddamn, he shouldn't have been worried about summoning enough outraged fury. The real challenge would be in not going for Fleming's throat. "He thought he could control me through her. Even you were never that stupid."

  "Bitches come and go." Fleming said it solemnly, like he was laying down some kind of universal, philosophical truth, then followed it with a pointed look. "What's your play, Lennox? And what do you want from me?"

  "The same thing I've always wanted." It was hard to say it like this, to a man like Fleming. The truth, in all its sad, twisted glory. "I want her. And I want out."

  "So you want protection."

  "You really think you can protect me from O'Kane if I take one of his women?"

  The man slammed his hand down on the desk hard enough to rattle everything on it. "Dallas O'Kane does not rule this sector, and he doesn't rule me!"

  For a heartbeat, Noah wondered if he'd pushed too far. Fleming had always been insecure about the power he'd inherited from his father--especially compared to a self-made man like Dallas. But Noah needed him angry.

  Vengeful.

  He took a step back--calculated, because he couldn't fake fear or respect, but he could show retreat. "I'm just saying O'Kane is strong. We both know it. But maybe I could do something to change that."

  That quickly, Fleming's ire faded, replaced by a satisfied smile. "If O'Kane's so dangerous, playing him could be deadly. You prepared for that?"

  Ego would be this bastard's downfall. Smiling, Noah tweaked it. Buttered him up. "As dangerous as walking in here to make demands?"

  "That remains to be seen." But Fleming gestured to the chair across the wide desk from him. "Have a seat and tell me what you have in mind."

  Chapter Ten

  Emma hurt, so she did what she always did. She threw herself into her art.

  She'd already designed three sheets of flash and had moved on to yet another new back piece for Ace--one he'd let her ink this time, maybe--when the bell on the door jingled. But whoever it was also knocked, so she dropped her pen and leaned around the partition. "Come back in a few--"

  Noah.

  He stood there, so stern and silent, but the blankness in his gaze that had scared her on that first night was gone. He looked sad and a little nervous, but he looked alive. A person instead of a ghost.

  It hit her in the chest, the uncertainty clouding his features, and she had to swallow hard just to speak. "Did you figure it out?"

  "I don't know," he admitted. "But I started using my head, so maybe there's still hope."

  "Yeah?" She leaned over the back of the tattoo chair--guarded, this time. Slow, because tumbling headfirst after Noah Lennox had gotten her hurt already.

  "Yeah." He took a deep breath and exhaled, and she knew she wasn't going to like the words that came next. "I went to see Mac Fleming."

  By some miracle, she kept her breathing and expression even. "Did you tell him I said hi?"

  Noah didn't smile, didn't flinch. "I told him Dallas O'Kane marked you to control me. And he believed it, because it's what he was planning to do."

  "Okay. So you're--what, now? Working for Fleming again?"

  Noah shoved a hand through his hair. "That's what he thinks. I convinced him I'd help him take down Dallas in exchange for leaving the two of us alone."

  And instead, he'd be working the other side of the fence--handing Dallas intel on Fleming's operations and plays, no doubt. "Good for you."

  "It wasn't hard. I just had to tell him the truth." Noah lowered his voice to a rough whisper. "I told him I've always wanted you."

  She had to physically keep herself from covering her ears, so maybe she was a child, after all. "Stop. Please."

  "Em--" He clenched his hands. "I'm not asking for anything. Not forgiveness, not a chance. I just needed to say it, because you were right. I decided what was best for you and did it, over and over again, and I pretended it was all selfless because I didn't want to be the guy who wanted you and bought you and got to keep you."

  He should have been asking for forgiveness, because she'd promised him more than her heart. She'd promised him this, the moment where even if he hurt her, he
could fix it by understanding.

  She gripped the back of the tattoo chair. "For four years, Noah, I blamed myself for Cib's death. And now, here I am, with all of his mistakes slapping me in the face. I can barely wrap my head around it."

  "Do you have questions?"

  Only one really mattered--the same one she'd asked Lex. Only Noah would know it all, the truth, not just rumor filtered from sector to sector. "Tell me what he said."

  Noah didn't have to think, or struggle to remember. He closed his eyes, and the words had the too-quick cadence of recitation. "He said he was in some trouble, that he'd gotten rolled on a sector run and needed cash. He said that he'd seen the way I look at you, and that you really, really liked me. That you might even love me. He said I could have you--forever--for five thousand dollars."

  It didn't sound real, delivered in that carefully detached tone. "Five thousand," she echoed. What had to be going on in your mind to put a price on a human life in the first place, much less your baby sister's?

  "I don't know what he was playing at," Noah said softly. "He knew I wouldn't let him sell you to one of Fleming's men, so maybe the bidding was just a bluff. Maybe he just didn't know how to ask for help, and I was trying so hard to do the right thing that I couldn't hear him screaming for it."

  And maybe by then Cib had been so desperate for a short-term fix to his very deadly problems that the ends had justified the means. "I don't know what to think. Part of me feels like I should hate him, but I don't." She was pissed, sure, but even the heat of that emotion paled next to her insurmountable sadness.

  "I'm sorry, Em. That it happened, that I didn't tell you..." He met her gaze, held it. "You were young and scared, and that seemed like a good enough reason to protect you from the truth. But you're not either of those things anymore. You're a woman, you're tough, and you deserve everything."

  Every word battered at the fragile walls she'd constructed, threatening to rip them down. "Do I deserve a partner? Someone who'll stand beside me and help me, not try to shield me from everything? Because that's that I want, Noah. It's all I ever wanted."