Beyond Jealousy (27 page)

Of course she did, because she actually saw the sun rise sometimes. "Lessons. Six has been teaching everyone to cook like her mom did." She nudged him with her foot. "You'd know these things if you got up before noon once in a while."

He mock-glared at her as he passed over one napkin-wrapped biscuit, still warm and rich with the scent of sugar and raspberries. "Noelle sent that. Got it from Lex, I think. I don't know anyone else who manages to get fresh jam on a regular basis."

Rachel broke off one flaky edge and popped it into her mouth. The sweetness of the fruit exploded over her tongue, tempered by the slightly salty biscuit. "I tried to grow some strawberries on top of the warehouse once. I got a few, but nowhere near enough to cook them down into jam."

"Maybe you need more space." He unpacked more items from the bag--a few apples, another napkin wrapped around crisp bacon, and a couple hunks of cheese. "Jade and Six were talking about taking over the new warehouse roof for a giant garden. It'd take some work, but I guess Jade really wants something to do now that she feels better."

"I could help." His hair had fallen over his forehead, and Rachel bit her lip to hold back a smile as she brushed it away.

His gaze went soft and warm as he chased her hand and kissed her fingertips. "It's too cold to plant, but Cruz might let us out of bed by springtime."

"You don't want him to. And neither do I."

"Maybe not." His expression turned serious, eyes locking on hers. "I don't think either of us want you off the compound again until this bootlegging shit gets straightened out. Not after yesterday."

Guilt slammed into her. She didn't have any problems lying, apparently, because she still hadn't admitted the truth about the attack. "You should be worried, maybe," she muttered. "I'm pretty sure they were after
me
."

Ace rolled to his knees, his body tense, his eyes hard. "What?"

"Get up and grab the damn blonde! And don't fuck her up--she needs to be alive."
Rachel parroted the words. Her lips were numb, so she licked them before meeting Ace's eyes. "Doesn't sound too good for me, huh?"

"Jesus Christ, Rae." He caught her face between shaking hands. "You told Dallas, right?"

"Six was there. She told Bren, Bren told Dallas. That's the way it goes." Her stomach twisted, and she touched his hands before dropping her arms to her sides. "I didn't want you to know."

"
Why?
"

Because it was dangerous, letting the slightest thing go wrong. Things were still so new, tenuous, and if she didn't keep them perfect, if she gave him an excuse, an out--

Ace had bailed on her once. He could do it again, and this time she wouldn't be the only one with a broken heart. She had to think about Cruz, too.

It felt unfair, a little too much like betrayal, sitting around and wondering when Ace would leave them. It
was
a betrayal. But the fear was there, a cold knot in her stomach, undeniable.

Inescapable.

"You worry," she heard herself saying, "and there's nothing to worry about. I'm staying put. No more chances."

"No more shows, either." It was Cruz's voice, tired and serious, coming from the doorway. "That's straight from Dallas."

"I don't need the money." No, she needed the freedom, to know that she was finally doing something instead of waiting for life to happen to her. But there were other ways. "No more shows."

But Ace had gone rigid. "She pulls down money hand over fist. What the fuck did you find last night that's so--?"

He cut off abruptly with a sideways look at Rachel. Cruz sighed, shut the door behind him, and slowly crossed the room. "She knows it's not good," he told Ace without releasing Rachel's gaze. "I asked Dallas if I could tell you first. But when you're done eating, he and Lex need to speak with you."

He'd gone into the city to pull surveillance with Bren and Noah, and now he was looking at her like the world was crumbling. "Just say it, Lorenzo."

He showed her instead, slipping a tablet from inside his jacket. A smaller model, no bigger than his hand, but the picture on the screen was crisp and bright.

She would have recognized the man anyway. His features were unmistakable, even if she hadn't spent the better part of a decade looking at him every day. Even if she hadn't seen him only days before. "Skinny Pete. He works for my father." The implication was stark, unforgiving, and her fingers clenched around the edge of the tablet. "He was at the drop?"

"Unloading the liquor," Cruz confirmed. "Supervising, I think, though I'd need to hear his voice to be sure."

It was a setup. That was the only thing that made sense. "Someone's trying to pit Dallas and my father against one another. Start a war."

"Maybe." Cruz sat on the edge of the bed, dropping one hand to squeeze her leg. "No one's jumping to conclusions, especially after what happened yesterday."

Liam Riley wasn't a saint--far from it--but the attempted kidnapping made one thing painfully clear, even in the whirling confusion of Rachel's mind. "Whatever kind of game he was running, there is no goddamn way my father would risk my safety. None. Which means there has to be someone else in play."

"Then we'll find out who." Cruz said it as if it was already fact, with such confidence that she didn't doubt it for a moment. In Eden or in the sectors, no matter where he was, he was going to be a hero.

Their
hero. She slid her hand into Ace's and squeezed. "It would have to be someone who'd know how to get to Skinny Pete," she noted. "I guess Dallas has already called my father out for a chat?"

Cruz nodded. "And gotten an answer. He'll be here this afternoon. I don't know if you want to be at the meeting..."

"No." There was no way they'd be able to hash things out with her sitting there. "I'll need to talk to Dallas and Lex beforehand. Make sure they understand."

The rest was out of her hands.

Cruz knew the explosion was coming, he just didn't know what would set it off.

Ace was brooding. Angry. Cruz could read the signs, because reading people had been part of his job. Flat eyes. Compressed lips. Tense muscles. Arms crossed, posture closed off.

Unsubtle. Cruz doubted that was an accident, since not one of those signs had been evident before Rachel had pulled on her clothes and left to meet Dallas and Lex.

Cruz could have followed. He needed a shower and a few hours of sleep before Rachel's father showed up, and both would be easier to get in his own rooms, free of Ace's clenched jaw and tight sighs.

But they were unsubtle, as close as Ace came to deliberate vulnerability. So Cruz stripped, stepped into Ace's spacious, tiled shower, and considered how easily the three of them could fit in there. Rachel caught between them, wet skin slippery with suds as they lifted her--

"You could have told me, brother."

Cruz rinsed his hair before glancing over his shoulder. The shower was so deep it didn't need a door to keep the spray from the rest of the bathroom. Ace had hung a curtain anyway, and he pulled it aside now as he stood there, still shirtless. Still frowning.

It was a magnificent sight. The ink alone would have made him stand out, but for all his joking about being a lover instead of a fighter, Ace had a lean, beautiful body. Not bulky or overly cut, but muscular and tough. Hard in all the right ways.

"Cruz." Ace's frown deepened, though something flashed through his eyes--appreciation of Cruz's distraction, even a hint of dark satisfaction. Fair enough, since lust came so easily now, fraternization be damned.

But there was pain under his words, so Cruz forced himself to pay attention. "What didn't I tell you?"

The wrong answer. A furrow formed between Ace's brows as he crossed his arms over his chest again, flexing and hard and damp from the tiny droplets of water splashing off Cruz's shoulders. "So you weren't holding back, it just straight up never occurred to you. It still hasn't."

Still vague, but a swift process of elimination brought him to the only thing that might matter to Ace. "That Rachel was the apparent target of the kidnapping?"

"
Apparent?
" Ace slapped a hand against the mosaic tile, his eyes burning. "Someone says
grab the blonde
, and you don't think maybe that's information I should have?"

Cruz shoved his damp hair back from his forehead and faced Ace head-on. "It wasn't information you could use," he said bluntly. "Would knowing have changed any of the decisions you made last night?"

"Maybe," Ace snapped. "Knowing
she
knew might have. Why didn't you take five minutes to warn me?"

"Because I assumed she'd tell you!"

He hadn't realized he was throwing a verbal sucker-punch until it landed, and then he hated himself for it because for one terrible second, Ace was as naked as Rachel at her most vulnerable. Those dark, expressive eyes shuttered with pain, and Ace was already turning to leave when Cruz grabbed his arm.

Ace tried to rip free with a growled curse, but one jerk and he crashed back against Cruz's chest, slick skin slapping together. "Don't. Don't run."

"Fuck you, brother." Ace drilled his elbow into Cruz's ribs. "And if you think I won't knock your balls up into your ears because you've got a hard-on from staring at me--"

Cruz shut him up by slamming him into the opposite side of the shower hard enough to drive a grunt from them both. "You won't. You're too busy feeling sorry for yourself."

He expected retaliation this time, and he twisted before Ace managed to break his nose with the back of his skull. But Ace was
fast
when he was pissed, and he wrenched out of Cruz's slippery grip and knocked them both backwards.

Cruz's back hit the wall beneath the shower spray. Ace pinned him there, smacking the showerhead to one side so the water bounced off the tile and soaked his jeans. "I'm just remembering my place," he hissed, wrapping a hand around Cruz's dick. "Not tactical decisions. Not emotional support."

Ace stroked upward, and this time Cruz whacked his own head against the tiles, groaning as the slick, rough touch sparked pleasure up his spine. Ace was still pissed, still furious, but there was a different kind of heat in the growl of his voice, along with an undertone of pain so sharp and vulnerable, Cruz couldn't have pushed him away if he wanted to.

Not that he wanted to.

"Yeah, that's right." Ace pumped harder, his face inches from Cruz's. "I'm the one who makes it okay for you to shove your cock so far down her throat she can't breathe. I'm the one who makes it okay to fuck her so hard she feels you for days."

The words landed painfully, just as Ace had known they would. Because Cruz could protest, could claim
Rachel
was the one who made it okay by wanting it, but she'd been telling him what she wanted all along and Cruz hadn't heard--or hadn't believed.

He'd needed another man to tell him it was true. Fucking hell, he was a bastard.

Rage burned in his chest, as hot as the desire. Ace read it in his eyes and laughed, slowing his strokes, squeezing Cruz's shaft. "Yeah, that's right. Not so fucking honorable after all, are--?"

Cruz grabbed him by the throat and rolled them, putting Ace against the wall again, still grinning, still gripping Cruz's dick, because the flash of temper proved his fucking point.

When he crashed their mouths together, Cruz told himself it was the only way to shut the other man up. And for a second, he thought even that wouldn't work, because Ace jerked away, and Cruz knew words would follow, words that would rip him open, show him for what he was. Dark and bent and anything but heroic.

"Get your hand on my fucking dick already," Ace snarled instead, before sinking his teeth into Cruz's lip. He tasted blood, sharp and metallic, and growled against Ace's mouth as he fumbled with the fly of his soaked jeans.

The fabric wouldn't give, so Cruz ripped off the button. Ripped the zipper, too, and he didn't give a shit. Nothing mattered but crossing every line that was left and spiking the same furious lust in Ace's blood that raged through his own.

It was fast. Rough. Ace's tongue slicked over his, thrusting into his mouth in challenge, and his hand sped up like they were in a fucking race. They were under the spray again, hot water pounding against Cruz's shoulders, sliding down his arms, the steam turning everything slippery and hot.

He tightened his grip on Ace's cock, working him from root to tip as he shifted his mouth to the other man's ear. "You're the one who makes it all about her. When do you start telling me it's okay to shove my dick down
your
throat until you choke on it?"

He'd expected shock. God knew why, because Ace just laughed, low and taunting, his breath hot on Cruz's cheek. "Like you could choke me."

Joking, like he knew it could never happen, because Ace had been careful not to touch him without a woman around. Jeni, Rachel--that safe buffer standing between them, the plausible deniability that must be eating Ace up from the inside out, because Cruz knew what it felt like to be the intruder in someone else's epic love.

He caught Ace's wrist, pried the other man's fingers from his cock, and slammed his arm back against the mosaic tile. He ignored the grunt of protest and caught Ace's other arm too, pinning both against the wall as he sank to his knees.

He'd sucked cocks before, but not in a long time, and not like this, with a man he cared about staring down at him, naked disbelief over crazy, soul-deep longing.

Ace swallowed, his wrists flexing in Cruz's grip, and he knew it was serious when the first word out of Ace's mouth wasn't an endearment or a tossed off
brother
. "Cruz, you don't have to--"

"Shut up." He had to release one wrist to grip Ace's shaft again, and he glared up at the man with the same forbidding look that always turned Rachel sweet and pliant. "For once in your goddamn life, Santana, just
shut the fuck up
."

It could have been the look or the words or the fact that Ace couldn't tear his gaze from Cruz's lips. Whatever it was, it was a goddamn miracle, because Ace kept his mouth shut as Cruz opened his.