Beyond Forever

by Kit Rocha

  No one’s luck lasted forever. Not even hers.

  Lex slid the stick into the reader and almost dropped the whole damn thing. Because the number that came up on the display wasn’t just enough to buy a meal at the cafeteria, it was enough to buy the cafeteria. A preposterous number of zeroes stared up at her. Stunned, she stared back.

  A knock on the door kicked her heart into her throat. Her hand was already on the loaded pistol tucked under her pillow before she realized that O’Kane’s men would have just broken the damn thing down. “Who is it?”

  “It’s me, Rosemary.”

  Lex hid the scanner beneath the pillow, right next to her gun, and slipped from the bed. She paused to haul an oversized T-shirt over her head, then listened for a moment at the door.

  If anyone else was out there besides the kid who lived down the hall, they weren’t making a sound.

  She pulled open the door, and Rosemary greeted her with a strained smile. “Hi.”

  “Hey.” Maybe she should have brought the gun, after all. Maybe someone had come by already, asking questions. “What’s up?”

  “I was wondering—” The girl shifted nervously, and Lex’s grip tightened on the edge of the door. “Do you have any spare candles? For Benny.”

  The girl’s baby brother was a ball of fearless energy, with one exception—the dark. “Bad night?”

  “Yeah. I tried singing to him, but it’s not working. Nothing is.”

  Lex relaxed her hold on the door and stepped back. She’d let Dallas O’Kane—and all the goddamn zeroes on his credit stick—into her head, and now she was jumping at shadows. And harmless teenage girls. “Come in.”

  “Thanks.” She closed the door behind her. “I’m sorry to drop in like this, but I saw the light under your door—”

  “It’s fine.” Lex knelt to rummage through the cupboard beneath the sink in what passed for a kitchen, though it was really just a section that had been curtained off from the main room. “Is your mom at work?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Have you two eaten?”

  “Yeah.” Rosemary shrugged helplessly. “It’s just...the dark.”

  No candles. Lex swallowed a sigh and reached for her battery-operated lamp. “Here, take this.”

  The girl hesitated. “Are you sure?”

  “I’m sure. I’m going to bed anyway, and your mom can bring it back tomorrow.”

  “Thanks, Lex.” The girl’s eyes shone in the lamplight, and she kept murmuring her thanks for a solid minute-and-a-half, until Lex gently reminded her that her kid brother was waiting.

  With the door locked firmly behind Rosemary, Lex climbed back into her bed. For a long time, she sat there in the darkness, her knees drawn up to her chest. Then she retrieved the scanner and activated it again. The screen cast a soft blue glow over the room—and silently damned her with the numbers it displayed.

  She hadn’t just stolen from Dallas O’Kane. She had, quite possibly, ruined his life.

  »»» § «««

  When Dallas needed a job done competently, efficiently, and with a minimum of fuss, he called Jasper.

  When Dallas needed advice on dealing with the viper pit that was Eden and its surrounding sectors, he called Bren and Mad—and usually got an earful.

  A loud, opposing-viewpoints earful.

  “She doesn’t matter,” Mad said firmly, leaning forward in his chair. His wavy black hair and earnest brown eyes complemented a face that skated the line between handsome and beautiful—but Dallas knew that all of the man’s smiles and friendliness masked a bone-deep darkness. “Whoever she was, she’s long gone. Our focus has to be the meeting. If we don’t show up with money in hand, this opportunity is gone.”

  “She does matter,” Bren argued. “Symbolically, if nothing else. People need to know what happens when you fuck with O’Kane.” He turned to Dallas. “I can find her.”

  No doubt that was true. Bren had been trained by the scary motherfuckers inside Eden, the shiny, terrifying city that lorded over the sectors like some ancient king walled away from the unwashed masses. As a former Special Tasks soldier, he’d been trained to find a criminal needle in a haystack made of thieves and drunks and murderers.

  That didn’t mean he could do it in time. “We’ve got what, seventy-two hours? That’s not long enough.”

  “But I can give it a shot. And you and Mad can be working on something else in the meantime.”

  “I can get the money—”

  “No.” Dallas cut Mad off before he could finish his offer. “I don’t want a loan from your godly cousin.”

  “It wouldn’t be a loan,” Mad protested. “Gideon has always said I can claim my inheritance at any time. It would be more than enough to pay for the shipment. Supplies, too.”

  What a simple solution that would be. Mad’s cousin ran Sector One like an honest-to-God cult leader, and he had the wealth that went with it. The high and mighty Gideon Rios probably had the cash Dallas needed stuffed between his fucking couch cushions.

  If Dallas asked, Mad would do it. Return to the sector he’d fled, dive back into the complicated tangle of noble families and family pressure. It would hurt him in ways Dallas still didn’t fully understand—but it would hurt. No one turned their back on princely luxury in this world without a whole lot of pain.

  But if they didn’t get their hands on this money, everyone would be hurting.

  “Maybe I can help.”

  That voice was branded on his brain. Husky and low. He spun toward the door, and even with wild rage whipping through him, he couldn’t not appreciate the way she looked.

  Jeans hugged her curves, riding low on her hips. Her black top was cut deep enough to show off tits that were, indeed, spectacular.

  Bren moved. In what seemed like the span of a heartbeat, he had her hands pinned above her head and one forearm across her throat. “This is her?”

  The woman stared back at him mildly, like he wasn’t within an inch of crushing her windpipe. “Do you mind?”

  “Yeah, I kinda do.”

  “Bren.” Dallas forced himself to relax back into his chair, echoing her casual demeanor. “I thought the doors were locked.”

  “They are.” He leaned in, forcing her chin up until she winced. “Which means she broke in. Again.”

  “Bren.” Dallas wrapped his fingers around the edge of his desk. “Let’s hear her out before we choke her, yeah?”

  He wasn’t happy about it. His displeasure was written in every tense line of his body, and it took him a moment longer than it should have to release her and step back, both hands raised.

  Warily, she approached the desk. But when she reached it, she stopped and turned her head, not quite looking back at Bren and Mad.

  Waiting for Dallas to dismiss them.

  It was stupid as hell. She’d already played him once. But he liked to think all of his brains weren’t in his dick—and Bren’s volatile presence would increase the likelihood of this going sideways. “You guys go check the security. Figure out how to improve it.”

  Bren wanted to argue. He started to, then snapped his mouth shut. Mad rose from his seat, quietly obedient, and snagged him by the arm. “C’mon. I’ve been wanting to upgrade the door locks for a while.”

  Mad got Bren out the door, and when it clicked softly behind them, Dallas transferred his gaze to the thief. “Darling, your survival instincts could use some work.”

  “Tell me about it.” She shoved her hands in her back pockets. “And my name isn’t darling. It’s Lex.”

  “Lex.” It suited her. Short and to the point, but if he wanted to wrap his drawl around it, he could drag it out nice and slow. “I’m Dallas O’Kane. And I believe you were about to tell me why I shouldn’t let my angry, ex-Special Tasks soldier kill you?”

  “Actually, no. I don’t have a good reason why you shouldn’t.” She leaned closer. “I just came to bring this back.”

  His precious credit stick clattered softly on his desk, and for
a few moments, he wondered if he was wrong. Maybe his brains were in his dick, because they sure as fuck must have vacated his head.

  This made not a damn bit of sense.

  Without taking his eyes from her, he jerked open his side drawer and found his scanner by touch. It beeped after he slid the stick in, and he had to look down to read the number on the screen.

  It was all there. Every last credit. A fortune.

  This lady was fucking insane.

  “Sorry for the hassle.” She took a step back. “You won’t see me again. That’s a promise.”

  “Wait.” He slipped the credit stick free and into his pocket—the thing wasn’t leaving his direct possession again until he handed it over in exchange for his grain—and tossed the reader aside. “Why’d you bring it back?”

  “Does it matter?”

  “Indulge me.”

  “Honestly? I’m not sure.” She blew out a breath. “It was more than I’d planned to take. Or I’ve just lost my damn mind.”

  It had to be more than that. “So you’re a thief with a conscience,” he drawled, letting his disbelief color his words. “Lucky me.”

  Her eyes flashed. “I don’t take things from people who can’t stand to lose them. And this—” With another sigh, this one almost frustrated, she ran her fingers through her hair. “You know what? You have your money back. You don’t get to know what I’m thinking, too.”

  “Fine.” He turned and retrieved a bottle from the shelf behind him—Nessa’s first batch of really good rum. The glasses sitting next to it were smudged, and one had a chip on it, but they were good enough for this. Spinning his chair back around, he set them on the desk and poured two drinks. “Let’s talk business.”

  “Business,” she echoed flatly.

  “You don’t steal from people who can’t stand to lose the shit.” He pushed the glass without the chip across the desk toward her. “I assume that means you’re okay stealing from the assholes who can. I have a few of those I’d love to rob.”

  “Uh-huh.” She nudged the glass aside and bent over his desk, stretching out until her breasts were pressed against all his sales projections and her fingers wrapped around the edge closest to him. “What if I want to talk about something else?”

  That shirt wasn’t hiding a damn thing. He could ponder the magnificence of her tits at his leisure now—and that might be safer than imagining what the view was like from the other side. Her denim-encased ass waving in the air, practically begging for him to grab on and—

  Down, boy.

  He peeled her fingers off his desk one at a time and then prodded her shoulder. “Don’t even try it, darling. You might be real good at getting my dick hard, but I’m not stupid enough to stick it in you. God only knows what you’ll leave with next time.”

  “And here I was, thinking that was part of the fun.” She straightened with a shrug and reached for the rum. “Oh, well. Your loss. Mine too, I bet.” She licked the rim of the glass, then tossed back the liquor.

  Sweet Jesus.

  Dallas knocked back his own rum, and the warm burn of it didn’t help a damn thing. His body wanted what it wanted—but Dallas O’Kane hadn’t gotten this far by giving in to anyone or anything. Even his own painful erection. “Business,” he repeated. “I need a chemical printer. I haven’t been able to find one for less than a couple years’ earnings. Think you can help me out?”

  “Sure.” Her empty glass hit the desk with a thud. “For a price.”

  “Nothing’s free, darling. What do you want?”

  “I haven’t decided yet, but I’ll let you know.” She flicked the glass with her fingernail. “It’s good stuff.”

  “It’s passable.” He lifted the bottle and swirled the liquor inside it. Nessa had done a good job, proving herself a tiny copy of her brilliant grandfather, but even they couldn’t turn cheap shit into liquid gold. “That credstick you brought back is gonna buy us what we need to make some real liquor. Then I’ll show you good.”

  “Can’t wait.” She wandered toward the door, tossing a wave back over her shoulder. “I’ll be back when I have your printer.”

  He tried not to watch her ass. He really tried. But she was rolling it like she wanted him to know just what he’d missed, and he really hated his dick. Or his dick hated him.

  Fuck, there wasn’t enough blood left in his brain to be sure.

  “Get out of here,” he growled. It was a good growl, his intimidating one. And Lex just laughed, strutting out of his office like she owned it, and him, and the warehouse besides.

  Fuck, she was going to be trouble.

  Fuck, she was going to be fun.

  Nessa

  It took Lex a month to get her hands on the damn printer Dallas O’Kane wanted—a week to find one, another week of surveillance and planning, and two weeks of waiting for the right moment to pull the job.

  No way would he pay her enough for it to be worth the effort. If she were smart, she’d hawk the printer to someone else, take the loss, and move on. Waltzing back into the O’Kane warehouse again was risky, even if she had been invited this time.

  Lex had never been able to resist a good gamble.

  For once, she knocked, and a giant hulk of a man she’d never seen before opened the door. He looked her up and down, a frown furrowing his brow. “Yeah?”

  “I have something your boss wants.” She handed over the heavy black bag and watched as he unzipped it to look through it.

  “Hey, what’s that?”

  The voice was young and high, and a moment later the owner appeared from behind the huge man—a kid, maybe a teenager, dressed in baggy jeans and a shirt four sizes too big for her. Her hair had been drawn up into a sloppy ponytail, but most of it was too short and had slipped out. What remained in the plain rubber band had a pencil tucked into it.

  She didn’t look like Dallas, but that meant jack shit. “Are you O’Kane’s kid?”

  The big man snorted. The girl dragged her attention away from the bag long enough to give Lex the same assessment she’d just given her—and obviously didn’t like the conclusion. She pushed self-consciously at the rolled up sleeves on her flannel, shoving them up thin arms. They slid right back down.

  Color flooded her cheeks. “No,” she said, her tone an inch shy of outright surly. “I’m his distiller. Who are you, his new girlfriend?”

  It was Lex’s turn to snort. “Hardly. I’m his thief.” She held out her hand. “Lex.”

  After a moment, the girl reached out to grip Lex’s hand. Hard. “I’m Nessa. What’s in the bag?”

  “Chemical printer. For you?”

  “Nah.” She reached for the bag. “Flash, can you go find Ace? Tell him his printer’s here. We’ll be in my office.”

  “Got it.” He locked the door and headed off between two rows of stacked crates.

  The girl hefted the bag, even though it was almost as big as she was, and spun to the right. “Come on. I assume Dallas said he’d pay you for this or something, but he’s out on a job.”

  “I’ve got nothing but time.” Lex trailed her fingers over a logo burned into the side of a crate as she walked past. “I can wait.”

  “Must be nice,” the girl muttered.

  “It is.” Nessa led her into a room just across from Dallas’s office, one cluttered with crates and shelves laden with jars and bottles. There was a patched recliner in one corner, and a couch along the wall.

  Nessa hoisted the bag onto the desk with a grunt and then turned to study Lex again. “You’re the one who broke in, aren’t you?”

  “Yeah.” She still couldn’t decide if it counted as her worst failure ever because she got caught, or her greatest success because she made off with her score, anyway. “Call it a job interview, I guess.”

  The girl’s lips twitched, almost like a smile was struggling to break through. “I like your bracelet. Where’d you get it?”

  Lex toyed with a charm on the bracelet. She’d bought it during one of her recon trips,
when she was casing the O’Kane warehouse. “Just down the street. There’s a lady in your marketplace here who sells them.”

  “Oh yeah? Maybe—”

  “Hey, munchkin. What’s this about—?”

  The newcomer was hot, with the kind of appeal measurable on an empirical scale. He had dark hair pulled back from his face, features just a smidge too rough to be considered pretty, and gorgeous eyes. He looked at her, and he didn’t just see her. He knew her, everything that was going on in her head.

  It was uncomfortably like gazing into a mirror.

  He acknowledged it with a wry smile. “Let me guess. You’re the one who almost robbed us blind.”

  “Did O’Kane tell everyone?”

  “He trusts us, sister. It’s a thing.” He quirked an eyebrow. “Probably not where you come from, though. Sector Two, I’m guessing?”

  Lex matched his expression—and held her tongue.

  That made him grin again. He tapped his nose. “Hey, that can be our secret, beautiful. Professional courtesy.”

  “What the fuck are you talking about?” Nessa demanded from behind her.

  “Nothing, kiddo.” The man extended his hand. “Alexander Santana. My friends call me Ace.”

  Of course they did. “Lex.”

  “Nice to meet you, Lex.” He shook her hand for longer than necessary, and the flirtatious appreciation in his gaze was so damn cheerful that she wondered if he was trying to annoy her. “So let me see my loot.”

  She stepped aside, and he went to the desk and lifted the chemical printer out of the bag with a low whistle. “Oh, shit. This is the latest gen. Who the hell did you rob to get this? The fucking Council?”

  “Ask me no questions and I’ll tell you no lies, Santana.”

  He snorted. “Well, Dallas won’t be back until dinner, so I hope you don’t mind cooling your heels for a bit to get your money.”

  Lex had a better idea. “Actually, I was thinking of taking Nessa out to the market.” She turned to the girl, who stared back at her with big, wistful eyes. “What do you say? I can show you the stall where I bought my jewelry.”