Beyond Jealousy (41 page)

Another hand covered her mouth, rough fingers crushing her lips against her teeth until she tasted blood. The inhaler jammed tight under her nose, and tears streamed out of her eyes as Trix held her breath.

Never again. She'd sworn it, through every last night sweat and muscle spasm. Every gnawing ache. No more drugs, not for
anything
--

Her burning lungs yielded to the need for air, and she breathed in. It hit her almost immediately, and her head began to swim with hazy flashes of color and snatches of thoughts.

Revelations, really, only every time she tried to hold on to them, they slipped away. The answers to her predicament were there--the answers to the
world
--but she was too fucked up to see them.

It was the story of her life.

The pressure on her face eased, along with a little of the rush clouding her brain. She dragged in a sob. "What do you want?"

They ignored her.

Someone shoved her against the floor of the van. Bare metal and bolts dug into her cheek as someone else wrenched her arms back. Rope cut into her wrists, and a blindfold settled over her eyes, rough fingers catching her hair as they knotted it at the back of her head. She floated there, the rumble of the van's engine vibrating through her, rattling her teeth.

Then the van lurched to a halt and the door slid open. "Come on," a man growled, dragging her by the arm. The harsh glare of streetlights filtered in through the edges of the blindfold, and she dove toward the light only to be yanked back. She stumbled, hit the jamb of an open doorway, and then darkness closed in around her.

The darkness had a
smell
--antique wood and cigar smoke and money. It was burned into her brain, right alongside all her bleakest memories, and Trix dug in her heels, despite sliding across slick tile, because now she knew.

She knew exactly where she was.

Another shove, and she landed hard on a chair. She tried to stand up, and someone backhanded her across the face, snapping her head back. The taste of blood filled her mouth, but it didn't hurt, and that scared her more than anything.

Almost anything.

She could hear them breathing, but nothing else. Not until a careless hand ripped away the blindfold, taking some of her hair with it.

She barely noticed, not with a nightmare swimming into focus two feet away.

Mac Fleming had always been handsome. Put together. He wore an expensive business suit with the rumpled ease of a man used to taking beautiful things for granted, but there was nothing attractive about the darkness in his eyes.

They narrowed slightly. Widened. A cruel smile curved his lips as he set aside his drink. "Well, now. This is an interesting turn of events."

She tried to channel Lex, to think of something witty and cutting, the perfect
fuck you
.

In the end, she stared at him.

It only made his smile widen. "It's like looking at a ghost. I have to say, Dominic. It seems like your vengeance will fit rather neatly with mine."

She followed his gaze. Dom stood on the other side of the room, leaning against the wall with a smug, shit-eating grin on his face.

Trix. They'd kidnapped
Trix
, some sort of payoff for Dom, and Fleming hadn't known what he'd really be getting. Not until now.

She licked her lips and sat straighter in the chair. "It's been a long time, Mac."

"It has, hasn't it?" He leaned forward, cupping her bruised cheek. His thumb swiped across her lower lip, wiping away blood with a smile. "Welcome home, Tracy."

• If you'd like to receive notification of future Kit Rocha titles, you can subscribe to our 
  announcement list
  .
  
• Interested in more books in the BEYOND series? Series order:
  
  • Book #1:
    Beyond Shame
    (October 2012)
    
  • Book #2:
    Beyond Control
    (March 2013)
    
  • Book #3:
    Beyond Pain
    (August 2013)
    
  • Novella #3.5:
    Beyond Temptation
     (February 2013)
    
  • Book #4:
    Beyond Jealousy
    (March 2014)
    
  • Novella #4.5:
    Beyond Solitude
    (April 2014)
    
  • Book #5:
    Beyond Addiction
    (Fall 2014)
    
  • Book #6:
    Beyond Innocence
    (2015)
    
  • Book #7:
    Beyond Ruin
    (2015)
    
• Beyond Shame
  ,
  Beyond Control
  , and
  Beyond Pain
  are now available in a
  discounted bundle
  .
  
• Want more frequent updates? Keep up with news, contests & chatter on Facebook at
  The Broken Circle Page
  or in the
  The Broken Circle VIP Lounge Group
  by following the authors on twitter:
  @kitrocha
  ,
  @mostlybree
  &
  @donnajherren
  .
  
• Want to show off your O'Kane style? We have
  T-shirts, mugs, keychains and more
  , all available through Zazzle!
  

Not ready to leave Sector Four? Turn the page for a preview of what's next for the O'Kanes...

Logan Beckett was one sincerely unsettling motherfucker.

Finn recognized the irony of the sentiment. Next to Beckett's tailored suit, polished shoes, and clean-shaven jaw, his own three-day stubble and bloodshot eyes weren't exactly a character recommendation. The battered leather boots didn't help. Neither did the tattoos--Mac Fleming made a big deal about how his sector was
civilized
, and Finn had always figured the tattoos reminded him of Dallas O'Kane.

Reminding Fleming of Dallas O'Kane wasn't the way to get ahead in Sector Five.

Beckett knew that. He knew how to fake civilized like it was going out of style. Perfect clothes, perfect grooming, perfect loyalty. Hell, he even had a perfect wife--Mac Fleming's eldest daughter, the ultimate accessory for an ambitious man eager to take on a leadership role in the family business.

What he didn't have was a shred of humanity in his cunning gaze. Finn wasn't exactly in a position to throw stones there--he'd done shit that had given him horrifying dreams, and a few things so bad the dreams were better company than the memories.

But goddamn, at least he
had
nightmares.

"You heard me," Beckett said smoothly. "As of now, nothing recreational hits the streets without additives."

Fuck, Finn hated the additives. The people who wanted oblivion were already wasting their money and lives, and they were doing it willingly. Drugs didn't have to be a messy business anymore, because science had taken addiction out of the equation.

Beckett was putting it back in. With interest.

Arguing with the bastard was pointless, but Finn still tried. Not because he thought it would help, he just liked irritating him. "Doesn't that make shit more expensive?"

The man sighed. "In the short term. But once all of our customers are equally dedicated, price increases will be well-tolerated."

Equally addicted, you mean.
"And if someone doesn't want to get that dedicated? Are we not selling the regular stuff at all anymore?"

"Of course we are. If the price is right." Beckett shuffled some of the papers on his desk and stifled a yawn. "I don't want any of the small-time dealers handling it, though. The bastards can't be trusted."

Maybe not by him. Finn crossed his arms over his chest, forcing Beckett to stare at the lines of ink winding up his arms. "They'll do what I tell them to do."

Beckett sat slowly back in chair and studied him. "At one time, I would have agreed."

Not an unreasonable doubt. At one time, Finn hadn't been slowly undermining the whole damn sector. "You saying I can't keep my boys in line?"

Beckett smiled. "Yes, that's exactly what I'm saying."

A chill slithered up Finn's spine. Christ, that smile was creepy. It was off, like the man knew how to move all the right muscles, but didn't have anything to back it up. The only emotion lurking behind those cool blue eyes was anticipation.

Victory.

Something was really fucking wrong. Beckett might hate Finn, might sneer down his nose and drop barbs into every conversation, but he never crossed the line into outright disrespect.
Someone
had to do the man's dirty work.

Finn tensed, fighting the gut instinct to go for his gun. Shooting his way out of Five was a suicide mission--and a last resort. So he played the game, twisting his features into a scowl. "If you have a problem with how I run shit, maybe you should just lay it on out."

That chilling smile grew as Beckett leaned forward. "All right--" A quick chirp from the small tablet on his desk interrupted the words, and he glanced over at it with a sigh. "Mac wants you in his office."

"Guess you'll have to give me that job critique later." Finn rolled out of his chair, his hand still itching for his gun. The spot between his shoulder blades itched just as much when he turned his back on Beckett, even though he'd stopped caring about taking a bullet in the spine a long time ago.

Hell, he'd stopped caring about damn near everything a long time ago.

Mac's office was the last place Finn wanted to be. The man had been unlivable since Dallas O'Kane had thwarted his attempt to set up a puppet as the new leader of Sector Four. He'd spent an entire afternoon raging, swearing he'd call the sector leaders together and accuse Dallas of violating his territory.

Which he had. O'Kane and his men had blown up a warehouse on the edge of Sector Five. Under any other circumstances, that might have brought retaliation from the other leaders. But Mac had been financing bootleggers who'd been doing a little violating of their own when it came to O'Kane's territory.

No high ground there.

Finn had barely taken three steps out of Beckett's office when Ryder fell in beside him, a deeper-than-usual frown creasing his dark face. "We've got trouble."

Great. Just fucking
great
. "Does it have anything to do with why Beckett was looking so damn pleased with himself?"

"If he's happy, it won't be for long." Ryder cursed under his breath, vicious and low. "That asshole O'Kane kicked out of Four is gonna get us all killed."

"Who, Dom?" More evidence of Mac's slipping grasp on reason. Dominic wasn't even a useful asset, just some stupid, bitter brute whose explanations for why Dallas O'Kane booted him got more ridiculous every day. No useful intel, no brains. All the bastard ever did was spew bile about his former boss while Mac hung on his every word. "What the hell did he do now?"

"Not what he did--what Mac did
for
him." Ryder shook his head, his shoulders tight. "The motherfucker kidnapped one of 'em. Don't know what she is to Dom, or why he wants her, but she's got the ink."

Finn stopped so fast his boots squeaked on the hardwood floor. "Wait, back the hell up. Mac did what?"

Ryder spun around, his expression grave. "He snatched an O'Kane right out of Sector Four, and we're all fucked. We're in it now, whether we want to be or not."

Jesus fucking Christ.

Finn stared at his closest friend--his
only
friend--hoping for one crazy second that it was all a twisted joke. But Ryder stared back, grim and angry, and Finn flashed back to the last time he'd come face-to-face with Dallas when someone had endangered one of his women.

He'd almost gotten his head blown off.

"So that's it," Finn said. "This is how we go down. Riding Fleming's hate right into our graves."

Ryder arched one eyebrow and tilted his head down the hall in the direction of Fleming's office. "Talk him down. Tell him we'll fix it before things go too far."

How were they supposed to do that, drop the girl at the edge of the sector and hope she didn't blab? That was assuming any bird with O'Kane ink wouldn't turn around and go for their balls.

No, Finn had been laying this groundwork for far too damn long. Chipping away at Mac's base of power, delivering frustration instead of victory. He'd known it would all blow up in his face eventually.

Hell, he'd counted on having a front row seat. He hadn't bothered with an exit strategy, because he hadn't wanted one. He deserved the fall that was coming.