Beyond Solitude

by Kit Rocha

  “Why would you?” Lex stepped up and pulled her hand away from her hair. “Leave it natural. We can pile it up on your head, maybe. Something messy but put together.”

  That’s not how it’s done. The words hovered on her tongue, damning and depressing. She didn’t have to speak them—Lex would have caught her flash of confusion, and Lex would understand.

  She met the older woman’s eyes. Lex knew how a lifetime of lessons could wiggle under your skin, and that the things that hurt the worst weren’t the ones everyone expected. They tiptoed around the women from Sector Two, whispering the word whore as if it was bad, as if being expected to sell their bodies was the worst thing that had happened to them.

  “It gets easier, right?” She turned her hand and caught Lex’s. Tried not to cling. “Remembering to have choices.”

  The woman’s dark eyes gentled. “Eventually. But I’m not going to bullshit you. It took me a good, long while, and sometimes I still forget.”

  She didn’t need it to be fast, as long as it was possible. Mia squeezed Lex’s hand again before dropping to the edge of the bed. “It’s not the worst thing in the world. Forgetting, I mean. Because every time I remember, it’s like getting high on freedom all over again.”

  “Sounds like a good deal to me.” Lex ducked into Ford’s small bathroom, then emerged with a brush and a small bottle in her hand. “Knew he had to have some in there somewhere.”

  Conditioner, so new it still had a wrapper around the top. Not the custom handmade kind that was popular in Sector Two, but the kind produced in the factories of Sector Eight—where Ford had come from.

  Mia felt a smile tugging at her lips. “I kind of crashed on him last night. I’m surprised he dealt with it as well as he did.”

  Lex settled on the bed behind her and tore open the seal on the bottle. “Ford’s no stranger to crisis. I think you might be his first damsel in distress, though.”

  “Really?” With that big heart beating under his grumpy exterior, Mia would have figured he’d have distraught women tossing themselves at him even without the handsome face and beautiful body. “I know he likes to scowl and snap, but it’s just an act. Isn’t it?”

  “You may be underestimating the influence of your big eyes, honey.”

  Easy words. Mia turned them over, teasing apart the undertone. It hadn’t sounded like an accusation, but her self-consciousness prompted a response. “I wasn’t trying to play him. Not like that.”

  “Hey, I get it.” Lex smoothed a tiny bit of the conditioner through Mia’s hair. “A man like Ford? You can’t play him with all those tricks Cerys teaches.”

  Lex’s touch was gentle, soothing. Familiar, though she’d never known Lex personally. Mia could close her eyes, or even just squint a little, and it was like being back in the training house, relaxed in a way she could only be with her house sisters. Fixing hair, trading gossip, reveling in the rare liberty of not having to be perfect.

  Maybe that was why it was suddenly easy to ask revealing questions. “What kind of man is he?”

  “Stone cold,” Lex answered without hesitation. “People get this idea in their heads of what that means—crazy, maybe. Can’t feel anything. What it means to me is someone who’ll do what he has to, no matter what.”

  Ford could feel, of that Mia had no doubt. But he wore that coldness like armor, and she could understand all the reasons a man might do that. Especially a man who felt vulnerable. “Like walking all the way back to the sector on a broken leg?”

  “A damn fine example. Hand me that brush, would you?”

  Mia passed it over her shoulder absently, her mind still struggling with the heartbreaking image. Derek, torn and bleeding, dragging himself back to Sector Four one agonizing step at a time. Stubborn as hell, but smart, too. She’d seen that intelligence. Not just in his eyes, but in his files. Paper was barbaric, but the things he’d written on it had revealed a cunning intellect and an ability not just to see the big picture, but to synthesize data and trends and extrapolate the least risky paths of expansion.

  She could help him with that. Give him tools to automate the process, formulas that would unearth surprising patterns. Useless without human intelligence behind them, but the tech could do the tedious parts.

  “I can assist him,” she said, closing her eyes as Lex worked the brush through her hair. “I get what he’s trying to do. Once I really understand the liquor, I can help.”

  “Is that what you want?”

  “I want to be like you.” The words slipped out, honest and awed, and warmth rushed to Mia’s cheeks as she tried to modify the clumsy slip. “You and Jade, I mean. You’re here, on your own terms. You’re free. Where else can I be that?”

  Lex chuckled. “I don’t know, honey. Maybe a thousand places. Can’t say for sure. But you’re welcome to stay here.”

  Her next words couldn’t be clumsy. They had to say the right thing—and mean the right thing. “Does how Ford feels about my big eyes matter for the job?”

  “That depends. Do you like him?”

  Another layered question. In Sector Two it covered a world of sins. I like my patron could mean tolerance, or contentment, or—in the rarest of cases—even honest affection. Or it could be a polite lie. “I like him,” she replied carefully. “He’s brusque, but that doesn’t bother me. I think there’s kindness in him. I’m...fond of him.”

  “Fond. Right.” Lex patted her hip. “Turn around here for a second, huh?”

  Tucking her leg up under her, Mia shifted on the bed to face Lex. The other woman was polished, perfect—and giving her an unmistakably knowing look. “Look, I’m the last woman to tell you not to get involved with an O’Kane. I am an O’Kane. But it’s a hell of a hard road to walk. I’m not going to lie to you about that, either. So be sure you know what you want, okay?”

  It was a warning, but it wasn’t disapproval. Lex would never treat her like a broken doll in need of rescue. She’d lay out Mia’s options, sometimes sharp enough for the edges to cut deep, but always honest. And then she’d stand back and expect Mia to use her brain and make her choices. Not just parroting the one Lex preferred, but having the spirit and stubbornness to go for what was best for her.

  And Mia already knew what that was. “I want to prove myself. I don’t even know what I can do, because no one’s let me try.”

  “Dallas will.” Lex said it with a steely conviction, not a shred of doubt intruding upon the words.

  “And Ford?”

  “What do you think?”

  She’d seen the appreciation in his gaze at how easily she’d broken down his filing system and digitized the bulk of the data—but maybe she’d only wanted to see it. That appreciation could have been for her face and her body and how nice it was to have a pretty girl performing menial tasks. Even Vaughn had recognized the status symbol inherent in an aesthetically pleasing assistant.

  Lex was still watching her, so Mia shrugged one shoulder. “I think it’s hard to see people clearly when your heart gets in the way. When you want something to be real, you look for proof instead of truth.”

  “So you take your time,” Lex said firmly. “It’s the one thing that doesn’t lie, right? Anyone can keep up bullshit, short term. But it gets harder as the clock ticks down.”

  Mia nodded her understanding and took a chance. “I need help to do this right. I think Ford doesn’t want to overwhelm me, but I need to understand the liquor. I need to know all the variables.”

  “Then you talk to Dallas and Nessa.” Her lips twisted into a wry smile. “Rachel, too, if you can find her. She’s spending most of her time these days naked and sweaty, right between Ace and Cruz.”

  New names, people she’d have a chance to get to know if she found a place here. Dallas might be a little too intimidating for her first foray into the world of bootlegging, but today she’d be proactive. “Once I get myself put together, then, do you think you’d have time to introduce me to Nessa?”

  “Sure.” Lex grasped
both her hands and peered down at them. “You can chat while she’s doing your nails.”

  Mia started to flinch, then forced herself to relax with a wry laugh. “They never really let us see, do they? How much the illusion costs.”

  “Never. But, in Nessa’s case, giving manicures is something of a hobby.” Lex tilted Mia’s chin up with one finger. “Let her. The primping looks the same on the outside, maybe, but it’s different. You’re not dressing up to decorate some man. You’re doing it to show everyone else in this sector that you can.”

  Because presentation was everything.

  There was nothing new in the thought—she’d had it when Lex had walked in the door. But something inside Mia shifted, and the words looked different from this angle. She’d stared at Lex, aware of everything she represented and painfully aware of her own lack—but only because she wasn’t used to being the one who lacked.

  She should have realized. Especially since she was sitting on Ford’s big, soft bed, his smooth sheets a sensuous whisper against her bare legs. O’Kanes like our luxuries. In Sector Two, Lex would have been one of the luxuries, a symbol that lifted the status of the man who owned her. A living reminder to everyone else—this is what you’ll never have.

  Lex wasn’t a prize in Sector Four. She was the promise. The proof of how good life could be when you stood beside Dallas O’Kane. Not because you could aspire to have her.

  You could aspire to be her.

  “I understand,” Mia said softly. “And thank you.”

  Lex hesitated. “You good?”

  Maybe not yet, but she knew the answer now. She felt it in her bones. “I will be.”

  Chapter Eight

  Mia looked like an O’Kane.

  Ford stood in the office doorway and stared at her as she fluttered busily behind the desk. Her hair was smooth, and she was wearing jeans so tight they appeared to have been painted on, just like the polish on her nails.

  Blood thundered in his ears as he closed the door behind him. “You’ve been busy.”

  “Hmm?” She glanced up from the tablet she held in one hand and blinked at him. “Oh, the outfit? Lex let me borrow some stuff. And then she took me to meet Nessa, who took me to meet her closet.”

  “I meant the...” He gestured to the files and notes covering the desk. “I didn’t figure on you working today.”

  “Oh, that.” Mia turned to sweep the scattered papers covering one side into a haphazard pile. “Well¸ that’s why Lex took me to meet Nessa. That girl knows a lot about liquor.”

  “She should. She makes it.” The shirt Mia wore was made of some slinky, draped fabric, and slid away to bare her back when she leaned over. Ford swallowed hard.

  “So I’ve learned. It was a pleasant surprise to find out that Dallas O’Kane’s secret weapon is a nineteen-year-old...” She trailed off as she straightened, her gaze meeting his. A different sort of smile curved her lips, something sweet and still way too knowing. “Maybe I shouldn’t have been shocked,” she continued softly. “I know what young women can do.”

  “Yeah.” Belatedly, he reached into his pocket and closed his hand around her battered locket. It was too light for its size—cheap and nickel-plated—and it almost tumbled from his palm as he held it out to her. “Here. They broke the chain, but you can get another one.”

  Her hand shook as she closed her fingers around it. “How did you find it?”

  “Tracked down the bastards who took it. Wasn’t hard.”

  Mia turned her hand and uncurled her fingers so slowly it was like she expected the locket to be gone. Her eyes were too bright, tears threatening, but she didn’t cry as she brushed one fingertip around the edge. “Did you look inside?”

  He’d figured it was damn well none of his business. “No, I didn’t.”

  She worked a thumbnail under one edge and popped it open, holding it out so he could see. The picture inside was faded, small, but he could still make out the delicate features of a woman who shared Mia’s dark skin, prominent cheekbones, and beautiful eyes.

  “My mother,” she whispered. “She died two years into my training, but she was sick before that.”

  His chest ached, and he wrapped one hand around the back of her neck. “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be.” She snapped it shut and fisted her hand. “You gave her back to me.”

  He ran his fingers up into her hair. “I got your jewelry back from a fence, that’s all.”

  “Is that really all?”

  Those big, warm eyes might chill when she found out the truth. “We also took care of the assholes who attacked your landlady. They won’t be hurting anyone else.”

  But she only tilted her chin up, letting him cradle the back of her head as she smiled up at him. “You O’Kanes take care of your people.”

  “Always.” His gaze settled on her lips, full and lush. Everything about her was lush, and he wanted her under him—her bare skin against his, hot moans sighing into his ear.

  She wanted it, too. It was in every line of her body, in her too-quick breaths as her tongue darted over her lips. A heartbeat later she was gone, twisting back toward the desk in a flurry of nervous energy. “Nessa gave me what I needed to finish my program. More than I needed, really. I could only do the preliminary analysis, of course, but it will give us someplace to start.”

  Ford cleared his throat and dragged his libido under control. “Show me.”

  Visibly tense with nerves, Mia swept up the tablet and handed it to him.

  The application running on the tablet looked like a calculator, an interactive graph that updated its calculations as he changed quantities of ingredients—corn, wheat, and other grains as well as the rarer ingredients Nessa sometimes used. There were suggested figures based on their historical use, but every variable in the calculation could be manipulated.

  “Cost analysis and potential profit,” he summed up. “I’m impressed.”

  She lit up, her eyes sparking with enthusiasm as she reached out to swipe the screen to the second page. “I’m working on this, too—trying to factor in aging time and likely crop availability. It’s more complicated than I ever realized, timing it so you have enough of everything.”

  “I’m not sure you could. Didn’t Nessa give you her ‘it’s not a science, it’s an art’ speech?”

  “She did, even though she’d just spent half an hour telling me how the science works.” Mia reclaimed the tablet and smiled up at him. “I suppose the facts only get you so far, and the rest is a different sort of chemistry.”

  Another layer of meaning lurked beneath the words, but Ford only smiled and tapped his temple. “Most of this, I’ve got up here. It’ll be good to have it someplace else, just in case. Thank you.”

  She wrinkled her nose as she gathered up her paperwork. “That’s a criminal misuse of resources. You’ve got an amazing mind. It should be doing things tech can’t do for you.”

  He placed his hand on the desk, pinning the papers to the surface as he leaned close to her ear. “Like what?”

  Mia went still. Even her breath caught before she released it on a shaky sigh. “Thinking big thoughts.”

  “Is that really what you’re thinking about right now?” he asked teasingly. “My big thoughts?”

  She laughed, turning her face toward his cheek. Warm breath tickled his jaw, followed by the softest brush of her lips. “Yes. What else could possibly command my attention?”

  “Lunch.” He ran his free hand up her bare arm, relishing the thrill that stabbed through him when goose bumps rose at his touch.

  “Lunch?”

  Her distraction was gratifying. “Mmm. Unless you’ve already eaten.”

  “No, I got caught up in this.” She tilted her head back against his shoulder, eyes closed, lips curving into a slow smile. “But I’m starving.”

  Ford stifled a groan. “Loaded words, buttercup. You ever rode a bike before?”

  “Never.”

  “Ever had a real empanada?”r />
  She turned in his arms to stare up at him, and all that hope was back in her eyes, along with a radiant curiosity. “No, I don’t even know what that is.”

  “That’s a damn shame.” If he leaned down a few more inches, her mouth could be under his. He could be kissing her, picking her up and dropping her on his desk. Instead, he took a step back. “Get your coat.”

  For a flattering moment, she remained frozen, braced against the desk as if she’d been imagining the same thing. Her fingers traced back and forth over the wooden surface as her gaze swept up his body before fixing on his.

  When she smiled, it lit her face with mischievous delight. “Are you going to take me for my first ride, Ford?”

  “Uh-huh.” He smiled back, slow and wicked. “But first, we’re going for a spin on my new bike.”

  A quick, hard ride on Ford’s desk would have satisfied her body, but a slow, easy ride on his bike healed her soul.

  Maybe it was a whimsical thought, but there was more to the magic than the rumbling power of the bike between her thighs and the pleasure of snuggling up tight against Ford’s back. The road stretching out ahead of them felt like freedom, even with the wind catching at her clothes, trying to hold her back.

  It couldn’t. Nothing could hold her back, not with Ford beside her.

  Right now he was in front of her, blocking most of the wind with his massive shoulders. He’d spun them around the block a few times to let her get used to the feeling of being in the seat before gunning it for the edge of the sector, and Mia watched civilization fall away on either side of them. Well-kept buildings gave way to shabbier ones, which gave way to makeshift shelters built from whatever supplies their owners could find.

  Sector Two was contained, enclosed inside a wall guarded by Cerys’s carefully trained soldiers. Sector Four seemed to sprawl outward forever. There were even nicer buildings going up in the emptier spaces, wooden houses on neat lots, showing signs of care and effort.

  She’d always known people flocked to Sector Four, and now she understood why. Dallas O’Kane was a benevolent dictator peddling hope, and nothing was at a higher premium these days.