by Kit Rocha
Hawk had recognized power. It took intelligence and forethought to cultivate an image that made the O'Kanes' enemies consistently underestimate them, even in the face of overwhelming evidence to the contrary. The drinking and fucking and partying were perks, but they were also part of the act—painting themselves as sinners fighting just hard enough to indulge their lusts in luxury.
Rachel was watching him. “Everyone thinks this is what it's about—all the booze you can drink, and all the hell you can raise. That, or the sex. But there's something to be said for comfort, you know? For not having to be alone with your thoughts after a hard day.”
He swirled the liquor around his glass and tried to find the words. That was what she wanted—for him to unburden himself, to fall into the easy rhythm of chatter and sharing that seemed to come naturally to everyone else.
He could talk about ginger tea. About his sisters' new farm, or cars, or the business of keeping the sector running. Facts and knowledge, clean and simple. Small talk. But Rachel wanted more.
What else was he supposed to do? Tell a pregnant woman about the corpse he'd just pried off the walls, walls that surrounded a city that might attack them at any second? Tell her about the smell of it, so stark and pungent that even the lemon and whiskey couldn't overcome it?
Tell her about the fear in their guts every time they faced another suicide, wondering if this time they'd turn the body over and find what was left of a familiar face?
He snorted and took another sip. “Some thoughts are too damn bleak to share.”
“And some are too bleak to keep to yourself.” The lights overhead flickered, and her fingers tightened on her glass. “We're in a stressful spot here, Hawk. It's bad enough even if you do let yourself deal with it. But if you lock it away…”
“I know.” He rubbed the edge of his glass. “It's dark out there, Rachel. And we all thought we were good at that, living in the dark. But this isn't the same.”
She brushed his hand, a light touch that lasted for only a moment. “Just remember that you don't have to be alone, okay?”
“I'm not alone.” The truth wrapped around a lie, because there were so many ways to be lonely, and Rachel could say it wasn't about booze and sex, but it wasn't that simple. Not when you were an O'Kane.
Rachel sighed. “You don't do subtle, do you?”
No, he didn't. Especially not the way these O'Kane women did, issuing invitations and propositions with their smiles and their soft touches—not that he thought Rachel was coming on to him. But there'd been another poured drink, another soft touch—
Don't think about her. Not now.
Because telling yourself not to think about someone worked really damn well. Hawk finished his drink, reached for the bottle, and tried to prove Rachel wrong. “Jeni's not dancing tonight?”
Surprise and a little rueful amusement flashed in Rachel's eyes. “She's upstairs, working on something new.”
Hawk turned the knowledge over as he splashed more liquor into his glass. Jeni, upstairs. Alone, maybe, working on a new dance. Sweat glistening on her skin, her breath coming short and fast, her body loose and supple.
Practice meant Jeni. Not the wigs and costumes and makeup that turned her into any of a dozen characters she used to work the stage or the bar, but the woman he glimpsed in quiet moments.
Beautiful. Fearless. Sad.
He could go upstairs. Bring the bottle with him, smile at her. He knew shit-all about romance and women, but he knew now how good fucking could be. Fast and hot enough to burn through all the tension tying him up, better than a thousand fight nights.
And then it would be over. Jeni would leave, because that was how the O'Kanes worked. Friendly. Casual. Easy.
Until someone else smiled at Jeni at the next party, and Hawk was overwhelmed by the unacceptable urge to punch their damn teeth in.
O'Kanes definitely didn't do jealousy.
Rachel was still watching him, her rueful amusement melting into a smile. So he headed her off. “Don't get any ideas. I got a couple dozen sisters, Rachel. I know that look.”
“I have no idea what you're talking about,” she denied. “I was just saying that a little company never hurts. And,” she added, talking over his half-hearted protest, “that it doesn't have to be about sex. There are hundreds of ways to reach out to someone, and that's just truth.”
“I know,” he grumbled. And because he did have a couple dozen sisters, he knew he had to do one thing—change the damn subject. “That's why I'm in here, drinking with you.”
Her smile turned into a grin, and she lifted her glass of water again. “To friends.”
“To friends,” he echoed, knocking their glasses together. Tonight, he would avoid Jeni and track down Cruz instead. Every discomfort Rachel suffered put the poor bastard on high alert, and Hawk could sympathize with his feeling of helplessness.
Brewing ginger tea might not seem like the best use of an elite soldier's time, but feeling like he'd helped would soothe Cruz, which would soothe Rachel and Ace. Not a bad exchange for a little cup of tea.
And maybe with Ace in a good mood, Hawk could ask him a few questions. Casual. Easy. Just two O'Kanes, making small talk about life and fucking and all the ways they intersected in Sector Four.
If he could figure out the right damn questions, someone might give him the answers that ended with Jeni in his bed for more than one night.
Chapter Two
Strained, closed-door meetings around tables spread with maps and tablets were a lot more common now in Four.
To be fair, they'd probably been happening all along, only Jeni had never been invited to them. But now, with the city locked down and the sectors dark, she didn't have the luxury of avoiding them.
No one did.
Jared stood at one end of the table, his arms crossed over his chest. “I don't like not knowing what's going on in there.”
“No one likes it,” Dallas replied, squinting at one of the maps. “Noah? Any progress?”
The hacker drove his fingers through his hair, leaving it standing up wildly as he slumped back in his chair. “Depends on your definition of progress. The lockdown didn't just trigger heightened security, but heightened monitoring. Can I get in? Sure. How much can I do before they catch me?” He shrugged. “That's the question.”
“One we can't afford to test.” Lex braced both hands on the edge of the table. “There are people in there who could answer questions, feed us intel—” Her gaze flickered to Jeni. “Hell, folks we'd like to check up on.”
Jeni bit her lip. It was sweet of Lex to care, but there were more important people to worry about. Rachel's family, Bren and Cruz's old buddy, Coop. Even the most casual O'Kane contacts were more important at this point than Jeni's mother.
At this point, she wasn't even sure her mother would recognize her.
Lili leaned forward, her gaze unusually intent. “I think something has happened to Markovic.”
Jared pinched the bridge of his nose. “Just because he went quiet on us doesn't mean he's in trouble. If he's smart—which he is—he's keeping his head down.”
“I know it sounds naïve, but I have a feeling…” Lili shook her head. “He wouldn't have condoned what happened in Two, and I don't know if he's a good enough liar to pretend otherwise.”
Jeni knew Dallas better than most. She could see the truth in his eyes—he did think Lili was being naïve. But he still turned to Noah. “Can you find out?”
“Sure,” Noah replied easily. “They scan those bar codes all over the city. If his hasn't popped up recently, it'd be a pretty good sign something happened. But can I do that without getting caught?” He shrugged again. “Couldn't say.”
“Another thing we can't afford,” Lex whispered. “Even if he is in trouble, we can't help Markovic. And we can't risk exposing Noah's access just to satisfy our curiosity.”
“Give me another couple weeks.” Noah patted Lili's shoulder. “I'm working on a way to set up anonymous, untr
aceable communication between Eden and the sectors. We'll finally be able to talk to Coop, and Bren says he has eyes and ears everywhere.”
“Good idea. In the meantime…” Lex flipped another map over, covering the city schematic with a larger view of both the city and the sectors. “Their food stores won't last forever. Even if we assume the city leaders took everything they could for themselves, it won't hold out for long. When the important people get hungry, they'll come out.”
Mia spoke up for the first time, leaning forward to prop her elbows on the table. “There isn't much food left in Seven. It's mostly just the wind farms now.” Her small, sudden smile was downright vicious. “Which Ford and I control.”
Dallas tapped his finger on the table. “Someone make a note for later, see if we can figure out how to spread that power around. Turning the lights back on might not be much of a tactical victory, but it'd sure as hell be a psychological one.”
Jyoti stood next to Lex and traced her finger along the edge of the map. “The communes and illegal farms are out of Eden's reach. I have yet to come to agreements with all of them, but even the ones holding back are glad to have the sectors standing between them and the city as a buffer. They understand the situation. If Eden shows up, it will be to take everything they have with no hope of payment.”
Because this was war. Marching armies had taken what they needed for eons, leaving devastation in their wake. If Dallas could manage to protect the communes, they'd owe him. Big. But if Eden meant to take the communes, they'd have to go through the sectors first. And if it was food they were after, there was only one place for them to go—right through Sector Six.
Right through Hawk's home.
He was standing on the other side of the table, staring down at the map. At the boundary of Six, just beside Lex's left hand, and his expression made Jeni's chest hurt. Not because he seemed stricken or shocked, but because he didn't. His features were fixed, careful not to betray the slightest hint of his thoughts.
But she already knew he worried about his family every single day, and this was why. He'd seen this coming long before Ace had laid ink around his wrists, before he'd even set foot on the O'Kane compound.
Hawk looked up, his gaze clashing with hers. His expression was controlled, but his eyes—
Hot frustration. Anger.
Lex spoke. “Hawk?”
He glowered at the map. “Defense is a nightmare. We're all too spread out. The only advantage we have is that the city can't risk destroying the crops—it would defeat the purpose of coming at us.”
Lex's voice gentled. “Someone should make sure they know the situation. You can head out in a couple of days.”
It wasn't a question. He nodded shortly.
“Whatever they need, let us know,” she told him firmly. “I mean it. They're not alone.”
Hawk hesitated. “Can they have more land at the edge of Four? A few more of my sisters have been thinking about leaving.”
“As much as you need,” Dallas said. “Hell, if they need another barn or two, pull a few of the new recruits out there and set them to building. I'm getting used to having bacon whenever I want it.”
As if he couldn't get anything he wanted, even at a time like this. But concealing generosity under a veneer of selfishness was practically Dallas's trademark, and Jeni hid a smile as the people gathered around the table began to disband. Some left the room, and others grouped together, talking quietly.
She lingered until Dallas looked her way, then squared her shoulders. “What can I do?”
He tilted his head. “Noelle said she downloaded everything Eden's archives had on herbal medicine. You looked it over yet?”
She'd pored over the texts and pictures until her head ached and her vision blurred. The most important things she committed to memory, of course, but she had to be familiar enough with the rest to know where to go next with her research. “I read through it.”
He tapped her temple gently. “And how much of it do you have up here now? Most of it?”
“Enough to handle that project we talked about.”
“Good girl.” He smiled and stroked his fingers through her hair before leaning back. “Put together a list for Hawk before he leaves. Everything we need to get started. They're probably growing a lot of this shit over there already.”
She kissed Dallas's cheek before he could turn away. “Thank you for helping him.”
He winked. “I'm not. I just like bacon.”
“Right.” Jeni winked back and headed for the door.
Lex caught up with her halfway. “Can you do me a favor, honey? Cover Trix's dance tonight? It's killing, and I hate to take it out of the rotation, but I think you're the only one who's learned the steps.”
“Yeah, sure.” She had more reading to finish, but she could work on it backstage, between numbers. “Trix is okay, right?”
“Twisted ankle. Nothing's busted, but she has to take it easy for a few days. No dancing.” Lex shook her head. “So, of course, Finn is carrying her everywhere.”
“Of course.” It was adorable how the O'Kane men managed to face down bullets and bloody fights like they were no big deal, but they all melted for their women.
“Thanks, Jeni.”
“I got it.” It felt good to stay busy. On some level, it meant she was useful, not just decorative.
Hawk was standing on the other side of the room, talking to Jasper and watching her, his eyes unreadable. Their gazes held while she thought about what it would take to make him smile or laugh, even cross the room to speak to her. Hell, she even had a good reason to talk to him this time. But she just stared back, and he finally broke the contact, returning his attention to Jas.
It figured. She was good at working people—it was her most vital, marketable job skill—but when it came to Hawk, she was hopeless.
One thing Jeni had noticed—Hawk's vices of the flesh were very particular.
He drank whiskey, straight up—though if you poured him one on the rocks, he wouldn't decline. He hardly ever dressed in anything but T-shirts and jeans worn so soft they clung to him like a lover. He liked manning the rooftop grill with Finn, but his favorite thing ever was when Lili baked. He'd grab slices of bread still hot from the oven, slather them with fresh butter, and eat them on the spot—and the sounds he made, low in the back of his throat, were enough to make Jeni blush.
And, twice a week, he stripped off his T-shirt, climbed into the cage, and beat the holy living hell out of someone.
By the time fight night rolled around, he was so tense he was practically vibrating, wound so tight that a lesser man would have already exploded. But if there was one thing Hawk valued, it was his control. His precious control.
Jeni dug her fingernails into the leather arm of the couch and watched as he entered the cage ahead of his opponent, a bulky blond she'd never seen before. The man rounded the perimeter of the cage, flexing and grunting for the crowd, while Hawk waited with the patience of a saint.
“Is that another new guy?” Nessa dropped onto the couch beside Jeni with a sigh. “Lex, you're gonna need to add a third night a week at this rate. Bren's been breaking up fights over who gets to go next.”
“I know.” Her gaze was fixed on the would-be fighters clustered around the cage door.
Trix paused with her beer bottle halfway to her lips. “We could always lock them all in the courtyard and let them at it.”
“Brawl night.” Nessa wrinkled her nose. “You know, I should be into the wide-scale violence, but it's not the same.”
No, it wasn't. Then again, nothing could compare to that first swing, not when Hawk was the one throwing it. He didn't lunge for his opponent so much as he just stepped up into his space, as if he belonged there.
As if it belonged to him.
The blond hulk took the hit well, though when he circled around, his lip was bleeding. “This one's going to take a while,” Jeni mused aloud, to no one in particular.
Lex leaned closer.
“How do you figure?”
“Come on, you see it.” Jeni spared her a glance, though it would have taken something even more seductive than Lex's dark eyes to keep her attention away from the cage. It would have taken a miracle. “Hawk's been waiting for this. He'll make it last.”
“He's been patrolling with Jas.” Noelle perched on the arm of the couch. “It's rough on both of them.”
Of course it was. The same desperation that lured prospective fighters through the doors in droves saturated the sectors. For some, waiting for Eden to make their next move was unbearable. Others had just thrown in the towel, straight up—no hope, and no faith.
Most of them had no reason to believe that anyone could pull them through this mess—this war, she corrected herself silently. Jeni knew better. Dallas himself might insist otherwise if you put him on the spot, but the man didn't know how to fail.
She reached for her drink and tried not to wince as Hawk landed another solid blow on his opponent.
Lex arched an eyebrow. “Going soft on us, honey?”
Normally, violence didn't bother her, especially the way it played out during fight nights. The matches were clean, fair, and everyone who climbed behind the cage bars knew exactly what they were getting into. It was a thousand times better than what most people ever got.
But something about Hawk made it seem...tragic. He spent so much of his time creating—repairing, growing, or building things—that watching him throw himself headlong into this kind of wanton destruction felt wrong. There were better ways to embrace the sweet edge of pain, nobler ways. Ones that weren't so at odds with who he was outside of the cage.
Lex was still looking at her, so Jeni shrugged. “He doesn't need a fight, he needs to get laid. Professional opinion.”
Nessa snorted and nudged Jeni with her elbow. “Only one way that's gonna happen. Ready to put your booty where your mouth is?”
“Nessa,” Noelle chided.
