by Kit Rocha
"And then you fought back."
"That gun you found in the warehouse. It was his." The memory was still crystal clear, after all this time. The scent of fresh ink on his paperwork. The rough grain of the wood under her cheek. "He liked to fuck me over his desk. He wasn't all that into it or me, didn't even just need to get off. And every time got meaner, like he wanted to see how far I'd let him go. So I finally told him I didn't feel like it..."
He'd thrown her over the desk anyway, hard enough to bruise her face. Not that she hadn't ended up bruised before, but it had been the first time she'd said no, and some stupid part of her had thought it would matter to him. That he'd only been roughing her up before because she'd been letting him, not because he didn't give a shit whether she wanted it or not.
"I went for the gun," she continued, before Bren could interrupt, before he could try to comfort her. Comfort would feel like pity, and she'd never make it through these words. "I told him no and he still tried to fuck me, so I went for the gun. I was gonna blow his balls off."
Bren swallowed hard, but he waited, silent and watchful.
She took a careful breath and focused on a spot just beneath his left eye. A small scar, a reminder that he had plenty of his own bad memories and wouldn't judge her for hers. "The fact that he beat me half conscious and fucked me anyway wasn't the part that really hurt. Until that moment, I was still so goddamn deluded I thought he loved me."
Bren closed his eyes, but his hand found her cheek anyway. "Trent is dead. He can't hurt anyone anymore."
Trent was dead, all right. At her hands. Her knuckles had been split and sore for weeks, and she'd cherished every throb of discomfort as a reminder that she was finally safe. "I shouldn't be making you listen to any of this. It doesn't matter."
"No, look at me." He slid his hand around to cup the back of her neck. "He can't hurt you anymore, but he hurt you plenty already. That doesn't go away just because he did."
"I know." She swallowed around the lump in her throat and got the last words out. "The twisted part is that everything that happened after that? It hurt. God, it hurt. But it's easy to shrug off, because I know none of it was my fault. I said no. I fought back. Hell, I killed some of them. None of that's on me."
"Neither is what he did before."
"I didn't try to stop him."
"Do you think that makes it okay? That it means he got to be as big an asshole as he wanted?"
He said it like the idea was silly, absurd, but he'd lived on the streets, too. He knew the answer. "It doesn't matter if it's okay. People'll take as much as you let them get away with."
"Yeah, they do. Doesn't make it right." His jaw clenched. "What would you say to someone else? To Trix, or Noelle? Would you look them in the eye and say it was their fault, that they should have fought harder?"
The bottom of her stomach dropped out as she imagined sweet-faced Noelle trapped in a room with Wilson Trent. Or God--Trix, who'd let a member of Dallas's gang hit her and hadn't muttered a word of protest, because she'd believed she wasn't worth defending.
He would have eaten either one of them alive, hurt them and twisted them and made them think it was their fault from start to finish. They weren't broken and mean inside like Six. They were people who cared.
"It's not the same," she said weakly, even with her rationalizations crumbling beneath her feet. "I knew better. After the farms, and the--" Panic tightened her chest, and she stumbled past the final secret, the one she didn't ever think about. "The streets," she said instead. "After all that, I knew better."
"Knew better than to trust someone." It wasn't a question.
Put that way, it was so stark. It made her sound broken, feel it too, because it was nothing but truth. "I know better than to trust you," she whispered, bracing herself for him to pull away. "I know better, only I can't stop. And that scares me a little, but not as much as not wanting to stop."
"You don't have to stop," he offered quietly.
She choked on a hysterical laugh and buried her face against his shoulder. "Thank you."
Bren wrapped his arms more tightly around her. "I don't know if I can help. Really help, I mean. But you can talk to Lex."
Lex seemed so fucking tough that it was hard to imagine her like this, hurt and scared and clinging to a man. Then again, maybe that was reason enough to ask. Weeping on Bren was easy and safe, but the pity in Elvis's eyes was a fresh wound. If she ever saw that reflected back at her from Bren...
She turned her face to the warm, bare skin of his shoulder. "You just keep telling me I'm not a pervy freak, okay? I'll figure the rest out."
"You got it."
He had bruises on his throat again, bruises she'd put there with her teeth. She traced a fingertip over the edge of one. "You never told me what happened with that girl. The first one."
He breathed out a soft laugh. "Nothing tragic. Chey wasn't just a sadist, she was one hell of a dominant lover. I got tired of fighting to be on top, and we parted ways."
"Did last night count as you being on top?"
His voice dropped to a growl. "Would you have said no to anything I told you to do?"
She struggled to hold back a smile as something giddy rose, wiping away her lingering pain. She loved being able to put that rough edge in his voice with a few simple words, like she had the power to drive unflappable Bren crazy. "Only if you told me to do something that didn't seem fun."
His lips brushed her ear. "Liar."
Her heart beat a little harder, and her breaths came faster. She wasn't the only one with power, and now her voice held the same rawness. "I'm never going to be a submissive person. But if what you wanna do is be in charge of getting me off a million times a night, I'm not about to argue."
His hand drifted down between her shoulder blades, strong and unyielding. "You won't just let me, will you? You'll love every second of it."
"Probably." She touched the bruise again. "But I want more. I want to be what you need, too. All of it."
He tipped her face up to his. "Six."
She tensed. "I'm not going to let you be in charge of getting me off if getting you off isn't important, too."
"I need you to be you," he said firmly. "Beyond that, you'll have to trust me."
"I do, but I want..." She couldn't think of an easy way to explain, so she let the words come, awkward and jumbled, and trusted him to sort them out. "I want to understand. The pain and how much of it I like and how much of it you like and how it's so different for everyone."
"There's only one way to know that." He stroked a path from her chin across her jaw. "You try it."
"With you?"
He hesitated. "Ace offered. It could be good for you to see it outside of sex."
After watching some of the things the O'Kanes liked to get up to, she wasn't sure watching Ace beat Bren into a state of emotional release could be anything but sexual--for her, anyway. "Is it that easy to separate them?"
"Nothing easy about it. But Ace and I have done it before."
It was her turn to meet his gaze. "Can we try?"
He pulled her hand to his mouth before answering. "Maybe I should ask if you want it to be about the sex or the pain...or both."
That led right back to the thought of Ace and Bren and tension-laced touches. Her cheeks heated. "Lex is a bad influence on me."
The corner of his mouth kicked up, and he nodded, as if she'd answered the question. "I'll talk to him."
"You don't mind putting on a show for me?"
His eyes lit at her teasing. "No. But what about you?"
He still had one hand on her back, splayed across her scars. There'd been nothing sexual about the beatings that had left them, not for her. But getting whaled on in the cage last night had riled her up, and she got off harder when Bren added an edge of pain to her pleasure.
"I trust you," she ventured, pressing her thumb to his lips. "I don't want to try anything too rough. Just a taste. We have time, right? Time to go slow."
&n
bsp; "Yeah." His fingertips traced one raised ridge of flesh, and he nipped at her thumb. "Real slow."
Oh, God.
Given time, Six might get used to sitting across a desk from someone she'd watched scream her way through a couple orgasms the night before.
She wasn't used to it yet.
It was hard not to fidget as she sat in Lex's office, waiting for the woman to get around to telling her why she'd been ordered to stay behind while Bren went out to help clear the roads in Three. But Lex only lit a cigarette and watched her, studying every flinch and wriggle.
Finally, she spoke. "You feeling uncomfortable, honey?"
Six could only hope she wasn't blushing. "First time for everything, right?"
"Uh-huh." Lex grinned slowly. "Don't worry. I'm not gonna lay you out on the desk and have my wicked way with you."
At least that sounded teasing. Six relaxed and pulled the straightest face she could. "Not even if I ask nice?"
"Oh, you're not ready for me, sweetheart." Lex propped her elbows on the desk. "Question is, what are you ready for? Dallas thinks a little ink might be in your near future."
Her heart stopped beating.
Ink. Her gaze dropped to Lex's wrists, tracing the lines around the O'Kane emblem, the one Rachel had tattooed across her chest in a symbol of pride and pleasure. It meant security and safety. Belonging. It meant having a family again. Hell, maybe for the first time.
And it meant trusting more than just Bren. She'd have to trust everyone--first and foremost, Dallas O'Kane.
She wet her lips. "Bren wants me in?"
"I haven't asked him. And I'm not going to."
"Oh." She sounded stupid, and she felt it, too. "So it's not because he and I have a thing?"
Lex's dark gaze sharpened. "Becoming an O'Kane isn't about being some guy's old lady. If that's all you want, you've got it already. But I thought you were after more. Something that's yours."
"Yes." The word escaped on its own, raw and hoarse. "But I kinda stopped believing in that."
"So had I, once upon a time." Lex arched an eyebrow. "Do you know how I ended up here?"
There were so many rumors and conflicting legends it was hard to tell which one might hold a shred of truth, so she shook her head.
"Dallas caught me with my hand in his safe. And before you start thinking that's a clever euphemism..." Lex finished her cigarette and crushed it out. "I was ripping him off."
Of course she was. "And he put up with that?"
"Put up with it?" She snorted. "He got off on it, once he realized I wasn't going to snivel--or worse, try to pacify him with a half-hearted blowjob."
It was a common thread, but not because of Trent. Bren was the one who seemed to like Six violent and rough around the edges. "So Dallas let you into the gang?"
"Not hardly. But he let me stick around, and that was a start."
"I guess." She didn't want to ask the next question, but she had to. With her heart so fragile and messed up, it'd be foolish not to be careful. "So if I take the ink, I get to stay no matter what? Even if Bren and I don't work out?"
To her credit, Lex's reply was far from glib. "It might not be easy, but you'd find some way to coexist. The gang comes first. Rule number one."
And you'd still want me? The question balanced on the tip of her tongue, but it revealed too much. That was the kind of question a victim would ask, some broken-ass bitch who didn't think she was worth shit unless a guy was sticking his dick in her.
She was more than that. She was all the things she'd wanted to be for Trent, all the things he'd never let her be. She was tough, she knew Sector Three, and she was willing to get her hands dirty to get things done. Dallas O'Kane didn't need to want her. He could use her. And he could give her something in return.
"The gang first," she echoed. "Does that mean I can keep helping in Three?"
"If that's what you want," Lex allowed. "That's not really a paid position, though, so you'll probably want to keep up your shifts at the bar."
Half the gang was over in Three now, busting their asses dragging rubble out of the roads to clear enough room for trucks to get through. It wouldn't be fun, but it might be more satisfying than hauling drinks. "Is anyone getting paid to work in Three?"
"What, you mean the road work?" Lex shook her head. "You get paid for things that pull in cash. Three doesn't qualify--yet. But most of the guys understand we can't make any money over there until we get it in order."
Oh. Cash still meant security, which meant finding a way to get it. The windfall with the cage match could only work so many times--she couldn't beat everyone, even if Dallas let her fight again. And the more she managed to win, the narrower the odds would be.
Dancing wasn't an option. Neither was fucking on stage, not in this lifetime. And no matter how much Bren made her smile, she wasn't going to be able to fake it for tips. "Is bartending the only paying gig for women? I mean, if we're not dancers."
"No hard-and-fast rules, honey. I'm the queen, remember?" Lex shrugged and held out both hands to her sides. "You want to do something else? Convince me."
Six felt her brows rise. "Even if what I want to do is dangerous? You'd back me?"
"Sure, why not? I'd hope you'd have enough sense in your head not to take on a job you can't handle just to prove something."
She couldn't help her laugh. "If I wanted out of this life, I've had more than my share of chances. It's not that I mind working the bar, but I'm not good at it. The only guys who tip me decent are the ones who get off on women glaring at them. I'd be more useful doing something where I'm not supposed to put men at ease."
"Such as?"
Six grinned. "Throwing them out on their faces if they cause trouble? Lord knows they won't see me coming."
Lex leaned back in her chair. "We could use another bouncer," she mused. "It's not very glamorous, but you'd get to smash a few heads now and then."
Excitement sparked, the kind Six hadn't felt in months. Years, maybe. "I don't need glamour. I get that even if you and Dallas and every guy wearing ink thought I was tough enough, it'd still be stupid to send me out to do what they do. It's image, right?"
"Partly. The rest is about being able to back up the promise of that ink." Lex's expression turned serious. "If you think you'll have an easier time dealing with dickheads just because you're inside these walls, think again. And you've got to be able to back it up, or someone'll end up dead."
It was a solemn statement, and it deserved the same in return. "Ask Bren. He knows what I can do, and what he's teaching me to do better. If he doesn't think I can do it, I'll work until he does."
"That's fair--" A knock interrupted her words, and Lex gestured toward the door with a nod. A queen, expecting her minion to jump at the wave of her hand.
Six jumped.
It was Emma, nervously playing with the end of one bleached-blonde lock. "Is Lex in there?"
Six glanced over her shoulder and, at Lex's nod, pulled the door wide. "Come on in."
"Thanks." Her nervousness didn't fade. If anything, it cranked higher as she faced Lex. "I hear you guys have been looking for someone who might be in Three. Some tech guy named Noah."
"We are," Lex confirmed.
"I know him," Emma blurted. "I mean, I used to. He was friends with my brother back in Sector Five."
"Seriously?" Six asked, swinging around to study Emma again. She was one of the newer O'Kanes, one who'd taken ink not long after Six's arrival. They had to be around the same age, but something about Emma seemed young in a way Six had always assumed meant she was from a sheltered family, maybe even from inside Eden itself.
Five might not be the shithole Three was, but the man who ran it was a scary motherfucker.
Emma crossed her arms over her middle. "If I get him a message, he'll come. He'd do that much."
Lex studied her before rising with a sigh. "You know why Dallas wants him, don't you?"
"Information." Emma swallowed. "Noah can get him that.
Noah can do anything."
"Okay, then. We'll put out word that you need him."
Six wanted desperately to pry, to demand to know Noah's story. Who he was, how he'd ended up smart and crazy and living in the tunnels under Three while thugs ransacked the sector, trying to find him. But she recognized Emma's posture all too well. Defensive and wary, pain edging her eyes.
And the words. Noah can do anything. So rawly confident, despite her sadness. That was probably how Six would sound about Bren, if things went to hell. And he could. Bren could do so many things.
But there was one thing she could only do for herself. So Six pivoted back to Lex. "About that other thing--I'm ready for all of it."
Lex rubbed her temples. "I'm on it. Both of you, out."
Six felt sure enough to give Lex a grinning salute before following Emma into the hallway. And though talking had never been her thing, the hurt lingering in the other woman's eyes made her hesitate. "Hey, you okay?"
"I'm--" The words cut off as Emma swung to face her. "You're from Three, and you seem like you know him. Noah?"
"Kind of," Six answered honestly. "We were never friends or anything, but he was nice to the street kids. Helped them find safe places to live sometimes."
She squeezed her eyes shut. "Of course he did."
Wishing she knew what to say that would make things better, Six touched her arm. "Emma?"
When she opened her eyes, it was with a calm smile. "Never mind. Hey, congratulations on your match last night. That asshole had it coming."
"Thanks." It was easy to smile back. No, to grin. "I guess we'll see if he polishes up his manners, huh?"
"He'd better." Emma jerked her head toward the end of the hall. "I've got to go. See you around?"
There was nothing to do but nod and watch Emma bolt. Six caught herself rubbing her thumb over her wrist again, and she stared down at the bare skin, trying to imagine it circled with ink.
It was still mostly a dream. Lex hadn't offered the ink outright or told her it was definitely coming soon. But she'd talked like Six belonged, like she could be more than some girl slinging drinks. Like she could be anything she had the wits and strength to become.
