by Kit Rocha
"You're not alone now." Gia's hands were comforting and sure as she stripped off his shirt and wadded the fabric against his ribs. "When Jeni gets back with the kit, I'll send for someone to sew you up. Someone better with a needle than I am."
It was standard operating procedure—careful, skilled stitches and the liberal application of med-gel. No scars, because scars didn't belong on the blank canvas necessary to display a fantasy.
Fuck that. "You do it."
Gia gripped his chin and studied his face as if she could see through him. Then she nodded. "An underground nightclub owner should have a scar or two."
Jeni came back in with a standard med kit, as well as Gia's black medical bag. "The other guys look worse, right?" she asked as she gingerly prodded the sore spot in the middle of his forehead.
"Shit," he hissed. "Careful. I broke a bastard's nose with that bruise. And yes—they look a lot worse."
"Dead worse?"
"Mostly," he assured her. "One got away."
Jeni's jaw tightened. "Are you gonna tell Dallas, or should I?"
"Jared's not going anywhere tonight," Gia said firmly, wiping her hands. "Get some painkillers into him. How fuzzy do you want to be, darling?"
He turned his head. "I hate those things."
"You're eight kinds of wobbly," Jeni protested, holding up two small tabs. "Come on. Under the tongue, or I'll have to spray it up your nose."
The painkillers dissolved under his tongue, and his fingers began to tingle before the bitter taste even flooded his mouth. It didn't deaden the pain so much as numb everything. It left him floating, buffeted between the strange tugging pressure as Gia worked at his wounds and the low, throbbing sensation of their words echoing in his ears.
"Once we've got him cleaned up, one of the guards will take you to see Dallas and Lex. I don't want you out there alone right now."
"I'm not stupid, Gia."
"I know, love." A soft sigh. "Just...let me know if you plan to stay there, or I'll be up all night worrying."
Jeni's voice gentled. "If Jared's all right, I'll probably stay."
"Safer that way." The words were even, too even, hiding the vulnerability only Jared and Ace knew was there.
"It's too late now." Jared tried to pat Gia's hand and wound up catching her hair instead. "Sorry."
Gia sighed and shifted her attentions to his slashed side. "What about your sweet little blonde, Jared? Should Jeni tell her?"
"Lili." The thought sent a pang through him, sharper than the heat blazing in his ribs. "No. She'd worry if she knew."
"The guard can bring her back with him," Jeni suggested, "and then she won't have to worry."
"No." That was even worse, because then he might tell her everything. The whole truth, and nothing could be more dangerous. "Promise me."
"Okay." Jeni ran her fingers through his hair, tugging lightly. "I promise."
Gia said nothing, just focused on her work until she'd smoothed med-gel over his ravaged flesh and bandaged both wounds. "Help me get him into my room. He can sleep it off in my bed."
Together, they propped him up on his feet. The whole room went dim and supernova white, all at the same time, and Jared had to laugh at the impossible dichotomy of it, the sheer silliness. "I hate those fucking drugs."
"I know, darling." Gia's office seemed miles wide, and it took forever to cross to the door on the far side. Her bedroom was equally big, but the bed was close. They guided him to sit on the edge, and then Gia knelt in front of him. "Don't you dare put your shoes on my silk sheets."
"Why not?" He laughed again. "My feet are only half as dirty as the rest of me."
Jeni slipped out, and Gia huffed as she tugged at his shoelaces. "I haven't heard you laugh this much since the night we stole Eladio's best bottle of brandy. When did we get so sober and serious?"
"When we stopped being young and stupid." When they learned what the world was really about—and how it never changed. You could escape the forthright violence of the streets, but all you'd find was that same rotten meanness, dressed up like a million bucks. "When we figured it all out."
Gia tugged open his belt and paused when her fingers brushed his pocket. A heartbeat later she lifted her hand, Lili's panties dangling from the tip of one finger. "My, you've had a very exciting night."
He snatched them from her. "Those are mine."
Her eyebrows shot even higher. "I'm not saying you couldn't pull off the color or style, darling, but they're definitely not your size."
"Maybe that's part of the allure." He shoved Lili's panties back in his pocket and waved Gia's hands away. "And I'm not five. I can undress myself."
"Then do it." She rose and headed for the bathroom. "Without falling on your face."
On second thought, maybe he'd just keep his pants on. He fell back on the mattress and watched the light fixture whirl around in sick, dizzy loops. "If you keep trying to hang on to her so tight, she won't come back at all."
The faucet cut off in the bathroom, and Gia returned to the bed with a towel in her hands. "If you're going to poke at sore spots, you should let me get drunk first."
"Just trying to help."
Gia pulled on a clean robe and stretched out next him. "I'm not a fool, Jared. Competing with Dallas O'Kane is hard enough. Competing with Lex is insane. Competing with them both?"
"Unimaginable," he agreed. He reached for her hand again, finding it this time automatically. "So don't compete. You shouldn't have to. What did Eladio always tell us?"
"You can't hold on to anyone," she quoted obediently. "If they want to stay, they will." Her fingers tightened too hard around his. "Does that mean we shouldn't try?"
"I don't know." Exhaustion dragged at him, and he closed his eyes as the world floated away. "I don't know anything anymore."
The moment Lili stepped outside, she knew it wasn't a usual morning.
Too many people were milling about in the open courtyard between the O'Kane buildings. The sun hadn't even climbed above the hills to the east, and Lili herself was only up to get ready for breakfast.
The closest familiar face was Emma, Ace's assistant tattoo artist. Lili hurried across the pavement. "Is something wrong?"
"What? Oh, hey." Emma shrugged, then drove her hands into her messy, two-toned hair. "Crazy night. Did you miss the manhunt?"
After being kissed within a hairsbreadth of falling apart again, Lili had melted into bed for the soundest night of sober sleep of her life. That was new, just like the hazy dreams of heated skin and dark whispers.
But the word manhunt dispelled the remaining glow. "Who were they looking for?"
Emma opened her mouth, then abruptly closed it again. "Shit, sorry. A group of thugs attacked Jared last night. He's fine," she added hurriedly, "but one of 'em got away. Dallas had the guys out looking for the asshole all night."
Only years of practice kept Lili standing stiffly upright with her stomach crashing toward her feet. "Where is he? Jared, I mean?"
"At Gia's place." Emma gripped her shoulders. "Lili, he's fine."
Her heart was pounding too hard. It was irrational, out of all proportion to Emma's words. Worry, pure and undiluted, the kind she hadn't felt in more than five years. She dug her fingernails into her palms until eight tiny pricks of pain flared.
It helped. The roaring in her ears receded, and she managed an even breath. "Did they find the man who attacked him?"
"Yeah. Dallas is questioning the guy now. Hey." Emma smiled encouragingly. "Four on one, and Jared took out three. He did good. Don't be scared, be proud."
"Four on—" Panic threatened again, and she bit it back ruthlessly. At least, she tried. Maybe nothing would stop this but seeing him, knowing he was whole. "Oh, God."
"Come on." Emma wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "Let's get you a drink."
It was the comforting response. The easy one. All her life, shock and worry had been dulled by one thing or another. It would be easy to fall into that habit again, because
if any place in the sectors had enough liquor to thoroughly intoxicate a Sector Five housewife, it was the heart of O'Kane territory.
But numbing the pain meant numbing the pleasure, and after last night…
Maybe here, the price wasn't worth it.
"Not a drink," Lili said, straightening with effort. "If people were out all night, they must be exhausted and hungry. I can cook."
"Oh, sweetie. You don't have to—"
"I want to." She squeezed Emma's hand. "People need to eat. This is something I can do."
"Okay," she whispered. "Okay, then I'll help you."
Lili's calm solidified, along with her sense of purpose. She could do this, put her skills to use and channel her fear and anxiety into something productive. She could be more than a trophy, more than decorative.
And, when it was over, she'd calmly, coolly, find out where Jared was and examine every inch of him until she was satisfied he really was fine.
Lex
None of the O'Kanes were related by blood. Some people thought that didn't make them family. Those people were wrong.
Somehow, it always came down to blood. They lived for it, fought for it. Sometimes, they died for it. And Dallas was covered with it by the time he came out of the cage.
Lex didn't speak until he had thrust his hands into the basin behind the bar and started to wash up. "I didn't hear any big secrets," she murmured. "Just a lot of screams."
"Don't think there are any secrets to hear," he replied, low and vicious. "Just a few greedy idiots from Three and freak fucking chance."
It made sense. A full-on fight was a sloppy damn way to execute a hit—and, judging from their prisoner's begging, he was no professional. "Punks looking for someone to roll? It sucks, but I'll take it over an assassination attempt."
"It's the easier solution." Dallas finished scrubbing his hands and started in on his forearms. "Jared did most of the work by killing three of them. Now we just need Bren to grind in the message."
People would get the message, all right—everyone in Sector Four was dangerous, even the fancy whores. But would it do any good? "Some days it feels like we're fighting a fucking Hydra. Cut off one head, get two more."
"And some days I'm glad it's only two."
"You're tired." She could feel it even before she touched him, the tension in his shoulders that rarely seemed to ease. She rubbed at the knots between his shoulder blades and dropped a kiss to the back of his neck, to the spot where he'd inked her name—her real name—into his skin. "But we're so close. You know that, right?"
"I know." Dallas clenched his fists. "If Jared can sway that councilman…"
"We'll have a real chance to change things," she finished softly. "But we can't count on that, Dallas. There's no—"
The door smashed open with a violence that had Dallas spinning around, one hand already reaching for his gun. But it wasn't an enemy striding toward them, his brown eyes hot with barely repressed fury.
She stepped between them. "Ace, calm down."
He jabbed a finger toward Dallas. "Him, I expect it from. He doesn't fucking know better. But you do, Lex. You do."
Lex's own anger rose, and she slapped his hand away. "Watch it, Santana."
Dallas stood behind her, tensed to smack Ace down, but he didn't move. And Ace didn't look at him, either. The anger in his gaze was focused entirely on Lex—just like the betrayal. "Gia spilled the beans, not that she knew what she was saying. But she told me he bought that bar after all. And she's hopeful. She thinks he's getting out, not going down the fucking rabbit hole."
It hurt, more than Lex expected it to. More than she imagined it could. "Do you want to talk about this, or do you want to yell at me? I'm good with either, but I want to get it out there."
"I want to slap some sense into your boyfriend."
"No," Dallas replied, his voice dangerously soft. "You really don't."
It wasn't a threat. It didn't have to be. Ace shoved his fingers through his hair and took a step back—a carefully calculated retreat. "Then someone should talk."
"Out." Lex jerked her head toward the back room and took Ace by the shoulder. "You and me, come on."
Dallas stood in their path long enough for his silent battle to be obvious. In the end, he stepped aside with a harsh look at Ace. "I'm not coming in there to save your ass if you piss her off."
"No one's getting his ass kicked today." She steered Ace toward the back room, winding her arm through the crook of his as they walked. "Right, honey?"
"Sure, sweetheart," he drawled, not sounding convinced at all.
"Don't be a dick, Ace." She lowered her voice. "There are things you don't know."
He waited until the door had closed behind them before breaking away to pace the room. "I'm sure there's a lot of shit I don't know. But I know Jared."
"Yeah?" She'd bet everything she owned that he didn't know it all, not the way he thought he did. "So it won't surprise you to learn that Jared came to us."
Ace came to an abrupt stop and turned slowly. "Maybe, but Dallas planted the idea in his head. Jared told me about the bar, right before all that shit with Finn went down. And he said he wasn't interested."
"I guess he changed his mind." So many things she could tell Ace, so many truths she could lay on him...and none of them were hers to share. "Take a minute and think about why."
Ace rubbed his side—and froze, his fingers lingering over the scar left behind by the wound that had nearly killed him. "Shit. Tell me this isn't my fucking fault, Lex."
Any reassurance would be a lie, so she held her tongue. It was his fault—because he'd almost died, because Jared had spent years being stupid in love with him. Because Jared would die to protect not only Ace, but everything and everyone Ace cared about.
Ace swore roughly and sank onto the edge of a spare table. "Is that why he got jumped? Because he's spying?"
"Dallas and I were worried about it," she admitted, "but it wasn't a hit. It was random." But that wasn't the whole truth, was it? "This time. He will be in danger in Eden, that's unavoidable. We can be careful, but it won't change facts. We know that, and so does Jared."
"It's gonna hurt him either way." Ace squeezed his eyes shut. "That girl's getting to him, Lex. Maybe she's not the love of his fucking life, but she's making him feel shit. And if he goes into Eden like that…"
Bless the fucking O'Kanes, who even kept bottles handy in storerooms. Lex raided the cabinet in the corner and poured two shots of whiskey, then handed one to Ace. "Dallas wanted him any way he could get him. The undercover shit was Jared's stipulation."
Ace sipped his drink, his gaze fixed on the wall. "So if he decided he wanted to join up the regular way, Dallas would be okay with that?"
"He has joined up, Ace. Everything but the ink. He's one of us."
"Bullshit, Lex. Look me in the eyes and tell me that."
She stepped up, right in his face, and squarely met his gaze. "You think Dallas would have had our guys out all night, scouring two sectors, if it wasn't true?"
"You can pay for bodyguards. You can pay for beatdowns." Ace didn't waver. "He needs the shit money can't buy, and he's not getting it."
"It's his choice. I can't make it for him. Maybe—" She bit off the words, then forged ahead, because Ace needed to understand. "Maybe, someday soon, we can convince him that he deserves it."
Ace sighed and finally broke eye contact. "Who else knows? Bren? Jas?"
"Yeah." She'd eat her favorite leather corset if Cruz hadn't figured it out by now, but that was another tale that wasn't hers to tell. "We good?"
Ace bumped his forehead against hers. "We're always good, sister. Even when I want to throttle you."
"Same here, Santana." She couldn't help a laugh as she set aside her empty glass and cupped his face in her hands. "A little bit of advice?"
"Depends on if I'll like it."
"Doubtful."
He groaned. "Fine, lay it on me, love."
"The truth." She
stroked her thumbs over his cheeks. "If you want to know what's going on with Jared, talk to him. Not at him, okay?"
Ace huffed. "Says the girl who tattooed Dallas's name on her instead of sitting him down for a nice chat."
"Never said I was perfect, honey. But I love you—all of you—and I would never, ever ask a single one of you to do anything that I wouldn't do if I could."
"I know." He kissed her cheek before straightening. "Gia won't share her secrets with Dallas. But if Jared's in trouble, she'll burn the city to the ground. Keep that in mind."
"Good. He can always use more backup."
"Only if he needs it," Ace cautioned. "She'll blow up if you tell her now, and that is not the way I want to see you two go at each other."
She'd heard more convincing, less desperate flirtations from Ace, but he was trying. So she took his whiskey, finished it off, and winked. "Cross my heart, Santana. Only in case of emergency."
Chapter Eleven
Lili walked to Jared's home by herself.
It was a small victory, but it felt like an honest one when Lex regarded her seriously before granting permission. She made it all the way to the marketplace before she realized the truth—there hadn't been much risk in letting her wander through the sector so soon after the O'Kanes had swept through, reminding everyone of their power. Today, anyone could walk unmolested this close to the compound.
Even her.
She slipped through the downstairs door of Jared's building without knocking and paused at the base of that polished staircase to settle her protections into place. She had the right to her concern, out of sheer friendship. She had the right to fuss over him a little.
Check his wounds. Express her delight at his safety. Leave before she wrapped her arms and legs around him and clung until the fear of losing him stopped being an icy splinter in her heart.
She had more leftovers—pancakes with blueberries from a hothouse farmer who sold them for more than most people spent on food for a week, with thick honey and fresh butter—and she clutched the basket to steady her hands as she ascended the stairs.
