Beyond Control (Beyond, Book Two)

by Kit Rocha

  Everything depended on balance. Balance between the sectors and Eden, balance between the leaders of each sector. Seated next to the empty chair that Trent had occupied during their last meeting, Dallas could feel their carefully won balance tipping.

  Not that they were talking about Three. No, they'd blown the last hour listening to Timothy Scott and Richard Colby argue over the new wind farms going up in Seven. Both ruled their sectors like petty kings straight from a goddamn fairy tale, relying on greedy retainers to suck the land and the people dry while they lounged in modern-day palaces, and both seemed perpetually convinced the other was conspiring with the city.

  Dallas glanced at Cerys, who had humored them thus far but was obviously running low on patience. She rose and held her hands wide. "Gentlemen, your concerns about Eden's new construction are valid, but hardly actionable. Not here."

  "The lady has a point." Jim Jernigan, hard-ass leader of Sector Eight, rubbed the bridge of his nose. "How about we discuss something that affects us all?"

  "The empty chair," Gideon agreed from his seat beside Cerys. He met Dallas's gaze with a small smile of apology before continuing. "Wilson Trent made a stupid move out of greed. Dallas was well within reason to put him down for it, but it leaves us with a mess to clean up."

  A pretty little speech, but not without a chiding edge. Or maybe Dallas was still irritated with Mad's cousin. He couldn't forget the moment between Gideon and Lex the previous night, that awkward, halting conversation that had implied the two shared secrets.

  Secrets were intimacy, and God knew he was jealous as fuck of Lex's intimacy. It lent his voice unreasonable bite as he drawled his response. "If I'd set about cleaning up that mess, you'd all assume I was aiming to expand operations."

  "Someone will have to," Cerys observed. "Leaving a power void in that sector could hurt all of us."

  "You most of all, eh, Cerys?" Fleming noted idly. "After all the effort you and the other ladies have gone to, buffing and shining Two until it's as pristine as Eden itself. You've got leaderless barbarians on your doorstep now."

  "And I don't like it. I like order, just as you do."

  Scott barked out a laugh. "Fleming likes money, not order."

  "Money comes from order," Colby intoned piously, unable to pass up the chance to land a jab on his enemy, even a ridiculous one. Dallas had seen Colby's sector, and Seven was damn near as chaotic as Three.

  Scott opened his mouth to retort, and Dallas cut them off before they could start another fight. "We all like money, and we all like not having our sectors firebombed. Or have you two forgotten how Three got so damned fucked up to start with? The asshole before Trent let his ego get ahead of him, and Eden blew up all his pretty factories."

  "Which is why I'll gladly let someone else take on the risk of developing Three." Jernigan leaned back in his chair and shook his head. "The place is a pit. It's not worth losing my manufacturing capabilities over."

  Dallas studied Jernigan, trying to see past the man's businesslike façade. All the people around the table were dangerous to one degree or another--even Gideon--but none of them were as tough to read as Jim Jernigan. He was the only original sector leader left, one of the first who'd helped carve out the eight territories and set down the rules for survival. A dangerous man, to have held on to his sector while his contemporaries lost their places to internal struggle, one after another.

  He had a poker face that'd make Lex weep with envy.

  "Dallas."

  He started at his name, and for a moment thought he'd missed part of the conversation. But everyone else was peering at Gideon in confusion, too. Fleming frowned and leaned forward. "Dallas, what?"

  "Dallas can do it without attracting attention." Gideon rolled a cigarette between his fingers without lighting it. "It's not just about location. It's about style, and keeping things running without too many changes, so no one in Eden decides they need to poke their noses in. Three and Four have always been similar."

  Scott's face drew into a disbelieving grimace. "You want to just give O'Kane a fucking sector?"

  "No," Colby corrected in a withering tone. "Gideon obviously wants to give it to his cousin. Maddox. O'Kane even brought him to the damn summit."

  Holding back a sigh, Dallas flashed Gideon a dark look and received an enigmatic expression in return. Gideon was playing a game all right, but Dallas would bet his boots and his balls that Mad wasn't in on it. If he didn't trust in Mad's unconditional loyalty, the man wouldn't be guarding Lex right now.

  Fleming scoffed. "If we're offering up our subordinates, my second-in-command could work wonders with the sector."

  Cerys smiled. "Let's be clear what we're talking about here. A seven-share split of whatever profits come out of Three, less a small percentage. We'll call it a management fee."

  "Profits meaning income after expenses," Dallas cut in. Gideon had started the ball rolling, but Dallas could feel excitement prickling along his skin now. The promise of power in the air, if he worked it just right. "How many of you have been to Three? There are some decent crafters in there, but the sector's a damn mess. Most of the roads were wiped out when they torched the factories. Travel is a nightmare, which makes business a pain in the fucking ass."

  "You and Cerys are the only ones close enough to make it practical." Jernigan's gaze roved over Dallas, assessing and cold. "And Cerys--God love her, but her skills run toward a more refined sort of enterprise."

  The observation drew a few chuckles from around the table, and for one split second, Dallas could see behind the ever-present solicitous courtesy she wore like a mask. Cerys played her part, trading on the flesh of her girls, her own sensuality, and the ignorance of men foolish enough to underestimate her.

  She played her part, and she hated it. Just like Dallas did.

  How many times had he gritted his teeth through jokes about O'Kane, the ignorant barbarian? How many times had he fought to keep understanding from his expression when Fleming or Colby insulted him to his face with esoteric references from pre-Flare literature that an uneducated thug from Four wasn't supposed to understand?

  How many of them would choke on their own damn spit if he admitted he knew what the word esoteric meant?

  Oh, he knew how hot frustration burned when an idiot smiled smugly, confident in his superiority. He knew the temptation to throw away everything just to rub their noses in how stupid they were. He had no doubt that Cerys would slit the throats of every last man in this room and feel nothing but pleasure.

  Him included, which was a good thing to remember before sympathy made him a fool, too.

  Gideon was looking thoughtful now, but Fleming wasn't giving up the fight. "Five's not that far from Three, and my man's familiar with the territory. Dallas has built himself a pretty little empire, but let's be honest. He runs a gang. If you want profit, you need a businessman."

  Cerys arched an eyebrow. "It may be a gang, as you say, but he didn't take his business from someone else. He built it from the ground up, which is exactly what needs to be done with Three."

  "A self-made man," Gideon agreed, casting such a sly look at Mac Fleming that Dallas almost resolved to forgive him. "Those of us who inherit our power and influence lack an advantage the less fortunate have in abundance."

  Fleming stared back across the table coolly. "And that is?"

  "Hunger." When Fleming opened his mouth, Gideon held up a finger. "Which is not the same thing as avarice or envy."

  "Your second. The one who can't wear a suit without looking like a little boy playing dress-up?" Jernigan turned an old coin over and over on the backs of his fingers. "Is he hungry, Mac?"

  When Mac didn't answer, Gideon chuckled. "Not hungry enough, or Mac would have bigger troubles. Or maybe he's starting to wonder if he already does."

  Jernigan dropped the coin on the table with a sharp, metallic ring. "More money beats less every damn day of the week. All I've seen your man do is fake confidence and smiles, Fleming, but O'Kane's pro
ven himself. If we're voting, he's the one I'll back."

  Colby stirred in his seat next to Jernigan, leaning away as if to distance himself from the other man's words. "I lodge a formal protest. If O'Kane wants to be considered, the rest of us should have a chance to present candidates of our own. My younger brother--"

  "Spends all his time finding farmers' daughters to add to his harem," Scott sniped. "If you want a grunting lecher, you might as well vote for O'Kane."

  "Gee, thanks," Dallas drawled, grinning at them both, an expression that wasn't fake at all. With the chair beside him empty, a simple majority required no more than four votes. Jernigan and Gideon and Cerys...

  And him.

  Oh, it was moving fast. Too damn fast. He thought of Jasper discussing recruitment and Dom slavering over the idea of moving into virgin territory. They'd be stretched thin, trying to exert order over chaos...but they had more than a few promising allies. More would come running, gambling on their ability to earn places of power and influence.

  The smart, careful move was to say no. To deflect. But Dallas could taste the power, the thrill of owning more territory than anyone else. More chances to turn opportunity into profit, more chances to create something resembling civilization instead of brutality. A chance to stamp out the worst of Trent's abuses, the girls being sold as virtual slaves. The ones like Six, being tortured in spirit and body.

  No doubt that was Gideon's endgame. Jernigan's could be as simple as easy money. It wasn't like he could risk his factories on a gamble, and he wouldn't profit if someone else took over.

  No, Cerys was the enigma--and the hidden danger. Ignoring the bickering as Scott and Colby started at each other again, Dallas met Cerys's gaze over the empty seat between them. "You sure you're not interested in expanding operations south?"

  She answered first with a barely perceptible shake of her head. "I have plenty to occupy myself at the moment, not to mention the hard facts. In my particular business, establishing a base of operations and a solid clientele could take years." She leaned closer. "Years during which no one would be making any money."

  Silence settled around the table as men measured greed against laziness, and Dallas weighed his own ambition against the risks inherent in tackling a new territory. He had enough to keep himself neck-deep in toys and trinkets, enough to keep his men happy and his women independent.

  But he could have more. They could all have more, including the sorry bastards dying while Trent's men ripped each other to pieces, fighting for scraps.

  "I'll do it," he said abruptly. "If we can agree on a percentage worth the risk I'm about to take, I'll do it. And make you all a fuckton of money."

  Colby spat a curse. "This is bullshit."

  "This is math." Gideon held up his fingers. "Four makes a majority now. Me, Cerys, Jernigan, and Dallas--"

  "He can't vote for himself, for fuck's sake," Fleming snarled. "That's ridiculous. O'Kane should abstain, which makes this three against three."

  Dallas wasn't surprised when Scott shook his head. If Colby called the sky blue, Scott would die claiming it was red. "Four in favor. Four against two. A majority by any reckoning."

  "Then it's done." Cerys gestured toward the two silent servants near the door. "Drinks, gentlemen?"

  "Only if it's some of O'Kane's famous whiskey," Scott said, and from the gleam in his eyes, Dallas wondered if the man was envisioning getting a cut of that along with his share of Sector Three.

  He could dream.

  As the taller server started toward the table, Colby shot out of his chair, upending it with a clatter that made Fleming jump. "If you're going to waste time celebrating this ridiculous, hollow victory, I'll be leaving. Some of us have work to do in our sectors."

  The door slammed, and Jernigan snorted over the glass one server had already slid in front of him. "Someone's got his panties in a bunch."

  Fleming met Jernigan's gaze coolly. "You don't have to be ridiculous to think this all happened too fast. Quick decisions make for deep regrets."

  "Not for me. If this goes south, I've lost nothing." He smirked at Dallas. "No offense."

  Dallas lifted his own glass and faked his way through a barbaric grin. "What could go wrong?"

  Chapter Ten

  Most people in Sector Two would say Avery had done very well for herself.

  It was true--if you judged such things by luxury and opulence. Lex perched on the edge of a damask settee and tried to study the receiving room objectively. The furnishings were expensive in an understated way that spoke of money and taste, never veering over the line between tactful and tacky. The floor-to-ceiling windows looked out over a small but lush garden, and even through the sheer drapes obscuring the glass, she could see at least four gardeners busily tending the foliage.

  They had to be finished, after all, before the master of the house arrived home for the day.

  Lex would have rather been sitting on a wooden crate back home, getting splinters in her ass.

  The servant who'd answered the door reappeared, edging into the room holding a silver tray laden with an elaborate tea set. The delicate porcelain cups rattled on their saucers as she hugged the wall, her gaze darting nervously to Lex--and Mad, who lurked behind her like a dark shadow decorated with menacing tattoos and deadly silver knives.

  "Lady Avery will see you shortly," the old woman murmured, scurrying forward to drop the tray on the carved table in front of Lex. It thumped down on the wood from two inches in the air, and the servant was out the door before the cups finished rocking.

  "Maybe we're overdressed," Mad said, his tone amused.

  "Dangerously uncultured is more like it." The nervous fluttering in Lex's stomach had kicked up into a rolling boil, and she clenched her hands around the edge of the bench. "The knives are a great touch, though."

  Mad dropped one hand to her shoulder. For only a moment, long enough to squeeze encouragingly, but that one touch said it all. He wasn't just her bodyguard, he was her brother, her family, bound by ink instead of blood, but bound every bit as tight.

  He released her with a chuckle. "The knives are useful. People are so busy staring at them, they don't notice the gun until I've already shot them."

  "Violent misdirection. Nice."

  "Lovely to be appreciated. Are you--?"

  He cut off abruptly, and Lex heard the sound a heartbeat later. The creak of an old hardwood floor under hurried footsteps, and Mad hissed out a surprised breath when a woman stepped through the door.

  It had been twelve years since Lex had seen her sister, years that had turned a confused child with skinned knees into a woman. The resemblance was still there, though Avery was taller, softer around the edges.

  Lex rose. "Hey, kid."

  Avery's gauzy white dress brushed the floor as she rushed across the room. Ignoring Mad completely, she stopped a few short steps in front of Lex, her hands trembling as she lifted them to cup Lex's face. "It's you. Oh, Alexa..."

  Forget the butterflies. The bottom dropped out of Lex's stomach, and her throat squeezed tight with tears. "You grew up."

  "So did you." Avery's worried gaze roamed Lex's face, as if drinking in every detail. "Are you all right? Are you safe?"

  Christ knew what she thought about Sector Four and what went on there. What she'd been told. "It's not like that. I'm good."

  Uncertainly, Avery glanced to Mad and back, but she'd been trained every bit as thoroughly as Lex. With the first shock out of the way, she schooled her features. "Will you introduce me to your companion?"

  The way she said it made it clear she thought he was the one who'd put the collar around her neck. "This is my friend, Maddox. Dallas has him on guard duty today."

  Out of the corner of her eye, Lex caught Mad's gentlemanly bow and devastating smile. "The queen can't wander around outside her sector without a bodyguard."

  "Mad."

  "Yes, ma'am?"

  "I don't need your protection. Not in this."

  He sighed softly
, but after that he kept his mouth shut.

  Avery wet her lips before inclining her head. "Maddox. Any friend of my sister's is a welcome guest in my patron's home. There are tea and refreshments, or I can have a more substantial meal brought for you. I only ask that you pardon my rudeness in inviting Alexa alone to walk in the garden with me."

  Leather creaked as Mad shifted behind Lex. "Technically you're not out of sight if I can see you through the door, I guess."

  Or the walls. "He'll wait," she told her sister. "Lead the way?"

  Avery turned so sharply that her white gown flared around her ankles. The sliding door squeaked as she pulled on the handle, and the sound sent the gardeners scurrying toward a break in the hedge.

  Lex's sister led her to a padded bench wrapped around a pool dominated by a large stone fountain. It was cleverly designed, with water cascading over rocks stacked one upon the other with careful artlessness.

  Avery settled on the bench and held out a hand to Lex. "I can hardly believe you're here."

  "No fu--uh, no kidding." Lex sat without touching her sister's hand. The distance was vital, because her brain couldn't catch up with reality.

  Her last memories of Avery were shrouded in darkness and secrecy, one last clandestine meeting during Lex's flight from Orchid House. She'd been barely more than a child herself, but already so, so old. And Avery...

  Lex spoke without thinking, the words tumbling out across her clumsy tongue. "If I'd known they were going to sell you too, I'd have dragged you with me."

  "I know." Avery smoothed her hands over her silken skirt before settling them in her lap, her fingers laced together. "You were my big sister, my protector. I always knew you'd walk barefoot through flames for me."