Beyond Control (Beyond, Book Two)

by Kit Rocha

  "I should have known." And she had, enough to realize that Cerys would never take on Avery after Lex's defection. What hadn't occurred to her was that her parents would be able to sell her sister to another house.

  "Don't borrow regret, Alexa. I won't claim I wasn't frightened when I was taken to Rose House, but training as a rose is less...intense than as an orchid. I received an incomparable education, and I now live in more luxury than we could have imagined as children."

  "With a man you didn't choose."

  "With a man who doesn't dare mistreat me." Avery's eyes were suddenly so old, older than Lex felt. Ancient. "We're clinging to civilization after the end of everything. After the end of the world. At least my patron cares about being seen as civilized."

  Silly, stupid, but Lex couldn't help how the words rankled. "Appearances don't mean shit, not when you get right down to it."

  Avery's eyes widened. "Oh no, I didn't mean--" She shook her head and closed her eyes. "I'm making a mess of this, because I don't know where to start. I don't know the truth of your life, only what the head of Rose House told me, and I'm not so simple as to believe those stories unembellished. They watched me, because I'm a Parrino. You're practically a fairytale, Lex. A myth. Cerys doesn't often lose control of her girls."

  A question hung in Lex's throat, the one she hadn't thought to ask until just now because it had seemed impossible. Unthinkable. "Are you happy here?"

  A broken laugh spilled free of her sister. "I've been working up the courage to ask you the same thing. What does that say about us?"

  "I have everything." Lex wondered at how hollow the words must have sounded to someone who considered her way of life horrifying and deviant. "You heard Mad, right? Queen of Sector Four."

  "So it's true?" Avery's gaze dipped to Lex's wrists, where her ink flashed beneath the cuffs of her jacket. "You belong to one of the sector gangs?"

  "The gang in Four. The only one."

  "And the leader, O'Kane. He's...kind to you?"

  "Dallas is--" Belatedly, Lex remembered she bore faint bruises on her throat, not only from Noelle and Jasper's party, but from the night before. She fought the urge to lift her fingers to her skin, but she couldn't, not entirely, so she compromised by touching the lacy edge of her collar. "He gives me everything. He--"

  It was no use. Nothing she could reveal without scandalizing her sister sounded like more than a man lavishing meaningless, material gifts on his property. Dallas was so many things--maddening, lovable, hers--

  And none of that could be conveyed with simple words.

  The door whispered open before she could find more complicated ones, and Avery flowed to her feet as a man joined them in the garden. Tall and solid, he looked like a distinguished businessman sliding into middle age with grace. His suit was carefully tailored, his silvering hair neatly trimmed, but his face was lined with stress and worry, and his gait was uneven, like he fought to hide a limp.

  Not an unattractive man, not a monster. Avery hurried to his side, pulled by a force stronger than gravity. "Gordon, I didn't expect you back so soon."

  "I decided they could do without me for the morning. I didn't realize you'd have company." He was tall enough that Avery fit under his chin, and he tugged her into an absent embrace as he studied Lex over her sister's head.

  One look into his eyes and Lex saw his words for a lie--the man knew exactly who she was, knew her relationship to the woman tucked against his chest. The hand he settled on Avery's hip was as proprietary as the way he stroked her hair, running his fingers over the unbound length as if petting a cat.

  When Avery leaned into the touch, all but purring, Lex had her answer. Her sister wasn't just happy. She was blissful. The warm, relaxed tone of her voice almost shouted it as she turned her cheek to Gordon's hand. "It's the most wonderful thing. My sister Alexa has come to visit me."

  "She has, has she?" Perfectly polite words, but when Avery turned to face Lex, the wary protectiveness returned to Gordon's eyes. "Welcome to my home, Alexa. I assume the man in the receiving room belongs to you?"

  The way he said man meant something else altogether: thug. "Not quite, but close. He's my guard." A word this man would understand more than friend.

  "I see." He guided Avery back to the bench and urged her to resume her seat with a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Do you plan to stay for dinner? I'm sure the cook can make accommodations."

  His hand slipped back into the dark, unbound mass of Avery's hair, and Lex stared. So easy to see in that gentle touch clear echoes of the way Dallas touched her. Absently but constantly, movement without conscious choice, his hands resolving to stroke through need and sense memory alone.

  And Avery worshiped her patron, pure and simple. Her regard was a shining, tangible thing, comforting and repelling Lex all at once.

  Did she stare at Dallas like that, blind with something beyond adoration?

  "I have to go." She'd come fully prepared to enlist Mad as an accomplice if she needed to drag her sister away from this damn place...but she hadn't prepared for this.

  The pleasure vanished from her sister's face, all that light snuffed out by her words. "So soon? I thought we could spend time together."

  "I can't." The truth, for what it was worth. "We're leaving tonight after Dallas's meetings."

  "A pity," Gordon murmured, and he sounded earnest. Maybe he was, if only out of concern for Avery. He bent to kiss her brow. "I'll leave you two to the time you have, pet." Straightening, he nodded to Lex. "Alexa."

  The way he said her given name straightened her spine. "Gordy."

  His lips twisted in disapproval as he turned away, but Avery didn't notice. She watched, tense with concern, as his uneven strides took him back to the house. "His knee bothers him when he's tired," she whispered once he'd disappeared through the door. "He was only a boy when the lights went out, but he was injured in the riots."

  You could leave. Come with me. Lex bit her tongue. Avery would no sooner leave Sector Two than she herself would stay.

  "Take care," she whispered instead. "And remember your training. What to do if he hurts you."

  Avery blinked and turned to meet Lex's eyes. "He won't," she replied just as quietly. "He's not a perfect man. But I've seen my house sisters go to men who work them or hurt them, who call them whores and break their souls. Gordon wants a pretty girl in his bed and someone to dote upon. How selfish would I be to ask for more in a world where so many have nothing at all?"

  "Maybe more isn't selfish at all. Maybe it's what you deserve."

  "Deserve?" After an uncertain moment, she looked away. "I don't like to imagine a world where we all get what we deserve. I think my heart would break to imagine most people deserve what they have gotten."

  She had it backwards, had twisted the words into something damning. Lex released a slow breath--a goodbye. She and Avery shared more than blood. Once, they'd shared the same origin and ultimate fate, even the same values.

  But exile had changed Lex in ways she couldn't articulate. Here, in some of the poshest surroundings Sector Two had to offer, Avery heard words of hope as condemnation. Back home, in grungy, dirty Sector Four, the same observation would have been met with indignation. Fight.

  She missed that fire already.

  "I have to go." She clasped her sister's hand for a moment and rose. "Be happy, Avery."

  "I will, if you promise the same."

  Mad was staring through the glass, agitated and intent. "I promise," Lex whispered.

  Avery smiled and let her go.

  Mad all but dragged Lex through the house, past the relieved servant and out onto the cobblestone sidewalk. His arm slid around her waist as soon as they were around the corner. "You okay, honey?"

  Honest concern demanded an honest answer. "No. Let's get the fuck out of here."

  Chapter Eleven

  "It's not my secret to share," Gideon said for the third time, leaving Dallas to wonder if punching the grandson of God's supposed prophet was
blasphemous enough to endanger his already questionable place in the afterlife. After all the effort it had taken to convince Bren to lag behind while he walked with Gideon, this was the only answer the damn man would give when it came to Lex, over and over like some broken pre-Flare toy.

  It's not my secret to share.

  God damn the bastard, anyway. Him and his meddling and his morals. "Fine, let's talk about some secrets that are yours to share. Like what you're hoping to get out of Three."

  "Who says I want anything?" The man's wide grin belied the innocence of the deflection.

  Dallas didn't hide his snort of amusement. "Yeah. Try that on someone who doesn't know you."

  Gideon sobered. "I want my Warriors to have full access to Sector Three."

  Christ, the man didn't ask for much, did he? Just motorcycle-riding vigilantes for God rolling through a sector that might as well be hell on earth. "You want them there as helpers or hunters? Because if I'm running Three, my men need to be the law. End of story."

  "Hey." Gideon held up both hands. "Feed the hungry and heal the sick. Everything else is your show."

  There were benefits to letting Gideon's men in, coldly practical ones. Hungry people were desperate, dangerous, but charity and compassion had a tendency to erode the fearful respect Dallas depended on outside of his gang. He didn't want to leave kids hungry and their parents suffering, but he couldn't save them all. And the slightest show of weakness could kick off a territory war that would leave those same children worse than hungry. Innocents were the first to die when bullets started flying.

  But if he could keep them safe and let Gideon feed them... "One month trial," Dallas said finally. "But only if they agree to answer to Maddox. I can maybe even find them something in the way of resources, but the lines have to be drawn. You can be the carrot, but I'm still the stick."

  "How very manly."

  "Hey, some of us aren't coasting on the reputation of a higher power. Us mere mortals gotta do what we can."

  Gideon laughed. "If I promise not to make your life harder, will you stop pretending you can't afford to give a shit about people who don't wear your ink?"

  That stung, but he supposed it was meant to. "Afford's a funny word. Some prices I'll pay happily. Others...not so much."

  "That's the tricky part--figuring out what'll make you shell out. You did it for Edwin Cunningham's daughter." Gideon tilted his head. "Or was that Lex's influence?"

  "Maybe you give me too much credit," Dallas countered, unwilling to give voice to the depth of her influence. Not here, with enemies on all sides. Besides, he didn't have to twist the truth much to come out looking bad. "Maybe I'm just cold-blooded enough to recognize all the ways I could use a councilman's daughter."

  "Now, that I believe."

  "And she has great tits."

  "Mmm, there you go. Make love, not war, my friend."

  So much for offending the delicate sensibilities of a holy man. Gideon's grandfather may have styled himself a modern-day prophet, but his life's work had been preaching against the strict values enforced within Eden. Love was high on the list of things celebrated in Sector One, and it damn sure wasn't all fraternal or platonic.

  Dallas clapped Gideon on the shoulder. "I keep telling you, man. Choosing one over the other's boring. You haven't lived until you've made love and war at the same time."

  "I guess that's why you--" A noise interrupted the words, and a man whipped around the corner in a flash, knocking Gideon aside. Silver glinted in warning, and Dallas wrenched his body out of the way fast enough for the switchblade to slice across his vest but miss skin.

  The rest was muscle memory. He'd instinctively twisted to put his body to the outside of the attacker's arm--and to get a grip on the man's wrist. A hard yank and a heel planted against the side of his knee, and the man staggered with a grunt of pain.

  Only staggered. If he'd gone down, maybe Dallas would have checked himself, would have kept the man alive to ask questions. But a clatter behind him indicated Gideon was wrestling with an attacker of his own, and Bren--orders or no, Bren would be here by now if he wasn't fighting his way clear of something.

  Dallas kicked him again, popping the man's knee with a solid hit from one steel-toed boot, and snapped the bastard's neck on the way down.

  Dallas spun to see Gideon punch a second struggling attacker in the lower back--hard. The man hit the wall face-first with a sickening crunch and slumped toward the floor, but Gideon hauled him up with a curse. "Colby's man."

  "Fuck." Dallas whirled, took three loping paces toward the last of a dozen corners they'd turned, and almost slammed into Bren. "What happened?"

  "Got jumped." Bren panted a little, and a shallow graze of a cut marred his cheek. "Motherfuckers meant business. You good?"

  "We're good." He jerked his head in Gideon's direction. "Colby's thugs. Did you recognize any of yours?"

  "Same, but they're dead now."

  "Goddamn." Dallas shoved a hand through his hair and let himself sigh. "I suppose I knew what I was getting into."

  Bren flexed one scarred hand, eying his busted knuckles. "Shivs only come out when the meetings were productive. I take it everything went well."

  "Depends on whether or not you were planning a vacation anytime soon." Dallas swept up the knife that had almost slipped between his ribs and stepped over the limp body of the man who'd been holding it. One of the servants would find the fallen men, and it wouldn't be the first time Cerys had cleaned up an assassination attempt in her hallways. "Mad's crazy cousin here decided to make a power play on my behalf. I'm still trying to decide if I'm going to kill him or not."

  "You like me too much for that." Gideon tossed Dallas another knife, this one a switchblade. "Besides, I just saved your life."

  "My dignity, maybe," he huffed in return, but he still grinned. "Even if I could have taken them both, I don't want to think about what Lex would do to me if I came back to the room with a hole in my hide."

  "You, she'd kiss all better," Bren muttered. "I'm the one who'd have to deal with the queen's rage. Which, come to think of it..."

  Dallas slugged Bren on the shoulder lightly. Well, kind of lightly. "Don't get too attached to the idea, buddy. Her rage is mine now, too."

  "Uh-huh." Bren grimaced at the men on the hallway floor. "Want me to clean up or make sure everything's ready to go?"

  "Leave them. I want to get the hell out of this sector."

  "Yes, sir."

  He brushed past Gideon, who shook his head. "Shouldn't he be sticking around to guard your back against a second wave?"

  "Want a lecture on assassination tactics? Chase him down and ask. Don't blame me if you can't sleep tonight, though." Dallas shook his head and clasped Gideon's hand. "It's time for me to haul ass. I've got to head home and break it to the boys that we're expanding operations."

  "Take care, O'Kane. Let me know if I can help."

  "Oh, you'll be hearing from me. Believe it."

  Dallas watched Mad's cousin turn down the corridor to his own quarters before tucking his new switchblade into his pocket. The second knife he kept handy, toying with it as he resumed the walk to his suite.

  At least Gideon's motives were clear now. He was probably hoping to lure Dallas into letting the Warriors move into Sector Four, too. More people to feed, more people to save. More to preach to, spreading their message of love above all else.

  Maybe Mad and Gideon's grandfather had truly believed it, but the two of them were more practical. Love was powerful, but it didn't put food on the table or a roof over your head. It didn't protect you against all the assholes with hearts too dead to feel anything but hate.

  He could deal with Gideon. And Scott was a nonentity, a spoiled child on a throne he'd built to feel special. He'd backed Dallas just to infuriate Colby. Cerys and Jernigan were the mysteries. Their motives were the ones that could come back to haunt not only Dallas, but all of the O'Kanes.

  The risks were worth it. They'd always been wort
h it before.

  He wouldn't think about what had changed in the past week. How much more he had to lose if everything fell to pieces.

  The folded paper on the silver tray had been waiting for her, silent and damning, and Lex didn't want it.

  But no one ignored a summons from Cerys, not on her compound, so she crumpled the paper in her fist and made her way through the serpentine corridors, with Mad dogging every step.

  To her credit, Cerys didn't make her wait. She greeted Lex with a smile and waved her inside. Mad caught Lex's gaze, and she saw the protest there, the offer to face this battle at her side, no matter what Cerys wanted.

  But Christ knew what the woman wanted--or how condemning it might be. "Wait for me here."

  He nodded, and Cerys closed the door, trapping Lex in her domain. The room was dark compared to the rest of them, all heavy woods and deep, rich fabrics.

  Cerys moved to a table where an open bottle of wine sat between two crystal glasses. "That one has layers, doesn't he? One might almost think he's not very subtle, but I imagine that's the point."

  "You imagine?" As if the strategy was foreign to her. "Haven't you been playing the same game for years, Cerys?"

  "Most women do." She poured two glasses of blood-red wine and offered one to Lex. "Subtlety isn't generally the provenance of men, my dear. You can pretend to find that distasteful, if you wish, but we both know the truth."

  "Or maybe you hang with the wrong men."

  Cerys sighed. "So angry, Alexa? Still? I'm not your enemy. At worst, I'm the woman who took you in and did her best to give you the tools you'd need to survive."

  "Not out of the goodness of your heart. And you've been repaid." Lex crossed her arms over her chest, suddenly doubting the wisdom of her decision to bar Mad from the room. "What do you want?"

  "To see you. To admire the woman you've become. If you can credit me with nothing else, surely you can understand the pride I feel at seeing how much you've accomplished." She held out the wine again. "One drink. That's all I ask. Perhaps you'll discover I have something to offer in return."