Chapter Nineteen

Jasper was avoiding her.

At first, she thought it was her imagination. Dallas had returned late and grumpy, and Noelle had been too wrung out to traverse the warren of hallways back to Lex's empty bed. But sleep had been fleeting and restless, interrupted whenever she slipped her hand into the vacant space to her left. Every time she woke, she forced her eyes shut again by promising herself that the next time she flung her arm wide it would slam into the unforgiving wall of Jasper's chest.

It never did.

She'd edged out of the huge bed at dawn, fleeing a loneliness that was more cutting in Dallas and Lex's presence than it could have possibly been alone. Dallas had cracked open one eye to squint at her as she pulled on her clothing, but after admonishing her not to leave the compound, he tucked Lex's sleeping form more firmly against his side and closed his eyes again.

He'd probably assumed she was going to find Jasper, but she hadn't. She'd already felt it then--something beyond sneaking suspicion. The certainty that Jasper wasn't simply not present, but absent. Deliberately not there.

It wasn't until she was huddled in a cooling bath in Lex's quarters that she understood the conviction. Her hands trembled as she scrubbed a washcloth over her newly healed skin, and she needed him. She needed to see him, touch him, know he was safe. She needed to curl up in his arms and know she was safe.

She needed him, and he was supposed to know that. He had to know that. If he didn't, how could she trust him to know everything else she needed? And if he did know but was ignoring her...

No. It was too soon for such thoughts, especially with all the danger. Dallas had admitted to sending Jasper out on some unspecified errand. Maybe it had taken most of the night. Maybe he'd fallen into his bed not long before she'd crawled out of Dallas's, and if she went to him now he'd open his arms and fold them around her--

She didn't. She told herself it was because he needed rest, and because it didn't matter anyway. She drained the tub and dressed for the day, braided her hair in a crown around her head and picked out a short-sleeved T-shirt that left her arms--and her tattoos--bare. Paired with heeled boots and jeans and one of Lex's studded leather belts, it felt like armor.

She was an O'Kane. One night of uncertainty wouldn't change that. Nothing could change that. That was the promise tattooed into her skin--her loyalty in exchange for their protection. Forever.

Besides, she wasn't entirely helpless anymore. She didn't need Jasper or Lex to hold her hand and give her something to do. The stage had been cleaned of Lex's blood, but the club still needed tending. Trix would be there to open the doors by noon, ready to serve the truly dedicated drinkers and sell individual bottles of liquor to anyone unable to strike a special deal with Dallas.

Life had to go on.

Noelle had swept the floor and taken down the chairs by the time Trix arrived, trailing a quiet bouncer named Zan. Zan nodded to her and positioned himself just outside the door, a solid wall of muscle that could--and would--turn deadly at the slightest hint of danger.

Noelle had traded her broom for a cloth to wipe down the scarred wooden tables when the door swung open again, admitting two men almost as large as Zan--and tragically familiar.

Her father's bodyguards.

She barely had time to wrap her brain around that--her father's bodyguards--before he followed them inside, blinking against the darkness and skirting tables with a wide berth, as if merely touching them would contaminate him.

Her father. Here.

Noelle clenched her fingers around the cloth until the nubby fabric dug painfully into her skin. Her father looked impossibly older, as if months or even years had passed instead of weeks and days. The grooves carved around his steely eyes were deeper, the furrows that formed when his brows drew together more intense. He seemed tired, stressed, and she knew with a certainty borne of painful experience that her absence couldn't possibly account for either state. Not on its own, anyway.

He looked at her--no, past her, his gaze gliding by without a glimmer of recognition before snapping back to her face. His brow crinkled, and he straightened the hem of his jacket. "Noelle. I didn't recognize you."

She didn't know what to call him. Sir was an honor she wouldn't give him, not anymore, but she'd never called him anything more familiar. She'd never been permitted to.

No greeting, then. Squaring her shoulders, she faced him with only her deathly grip on the dishtowel to betray her fear. "I wouldn't have expected to see you here."

"I've been looking for you."

Not very hard, obviously. "I've been here since the day I was banished."

His jaw tightened. "I didn't know where here was."

"Fine." It wasn't worth arguing about, so she changed the subject. "Why do you care?"

The question seemed to take him aback. "Because I'm here to take you home. Your mother and I--we want you to come home."

It was so unexpected, so impossible, that for a moment Noelle could do nothing but stare at him. He stared back, the perfect picture of polite surprise--and even here, in the sector slums, he might as well have been playing for the vids.

Anger took root, and she gave it voice for the first time in her life. "Why? I'm ruined. Damaged beyond repair. You'll never find a man in Eden who would agree to marry me."

He looked away. "Your citizenship will be reinstated, and you'll be free to live in Eden again. Isn't that enough?"

An answer that wasn't an answer at all. "Why?"

Edwin--she could barely think of him as her father anymore--huffed out a disgusted noise. "Why is why a question, Noelle? What's the alternative? You can't stay here."

She wanted more than anything to throw the word at him again, to taunt and prod at him, but that was the impulse of a child, not a woman. "I can stay right where I am," she said instead, keeping her voice as even as possible. "And I intend to."

He held out his hand, and one of the guards pressed a tablet into it. "Even if Mr. O'Kane contacted me about your presence here?"

"He wouldn't," she said without thinking, but the words were ash on her tongue before the sound died. Last night's guilt roared back to life, and she knew she'd been right. The bullets had been meant for her. Her father knew it, Dallas knew it...

Jasper probably knew it.

He'd never come to find her. Maybe he hadn't wanted to say goodbye.

"It would serve everyone's purposes." Edwin's voice gentled. "Come home, Noelle. Your mother misses you."

Home. Her empty room with its endless trinkets, physical luxury and unending leisure. Hot showers and baths that never cooled, no matter how long you lingered. Soft lighting from every surface. Sheets changed every morning by silent servants.

Never being touched. Never feeling. No pain, no pleasure, just the anesthesia of safety.

Her lips were numb already. "Let me see," she whispered. "Let me see what he said."

Edwin passed her the tablet, and she looked down at the white screen with its sparse black type. I'm willing to discuss arrangements.

The words could mean anything. That Dallas wanted her gone, that he was willing to barter her for Lex's safety. And he would, if it came down to it--Noelle didn't question that for a moment--but Lex would never forgive him. She wouldn't have agreed to pack Noelle off to the city.

Of course, the words really could mean anything. Maybe she wasn't giving Dallas enough credit. She wore his ink now, and loyalty went both ways.

And Edwin had always told lies with the truth.

Fixing her expression, she handed the tablet back to him. "Doesn't say anything about me."

Instead of arguing, he nodded. "I thought you might take some convincing. Will you at least think about it?"

"About coming back?" She tossed the towel on the nearest table and spread her arms wide, showing off the black tattoos circling each wrist and forearm. "I'm an O'Kane, ink and all, and I like it here. What can you offer me?"

"Safety," he said immediately. "You won't be getting shot at anymore. Neither will..." He consulted the tablet again. "Jasper McCray?"

Fear twisted in her gut, but it was the look in his eyes that made her blood run cold. He knew. She shouldn't have been surprised--Dallas O'Kane's right-hand man and Edwin Cunningham's daughter together made for good gossip no matter which side of the city walls you called home--but she still felt exposed, as if he'd peeled back her carefully donned armor to find her weakest spot.

"You're a cold-blooded bastard," she told him, her thrill of defiance weakened by how hard her hands shook. She shoved them in her pockets to hide it and lifted her voice. "Get out."

"Noelle..."

"Get out."

The door opened, and Zan stuck his head inside. "Everything all right, Noelle?"

"It's fine," she said, not taking her gaze from her father's. She wouldn't let him see her flinch. "He's just leaving."

No, she wouldn't let him see her fear.

"All right." Zan pushed the door all the way open, very deliberately bumping it into one of the bodyguards. "Sorry, man."

Her father was still watching her, and all Noelle wanted was to get rid of him. "I'll think about it, but only if you leave now."

He relented, but not without a pointed look. "I'll be in touch. Soon."

Zan closed the door behind the bodyguards, and Noelle groped for the nearest chair. Her knees wobbled as she collapsed more than sat, the air rushing from her lungs with an explosive sigh.

Trix appeared at her elbow with a shot glass, her green eyes sympathetic. "Here. It's the good stuff." The redhead set the glass on the table and squeezed Noelle's shoulder. "Sounded like you might need it."

"I do, thanks."

"No problem." Trix retreated, and Noelle lifted the glass and stared at the richly colored liquid. The whiskey was the blood of the O'Kanes, their first and best product. Nessa had promised to show her how it was made, to explain the process in as much detail as Noelle wanted, but she hadn't made the time yet.

Maybe she'd never get the chance, now.

"You should think about it."

Jasper's voice, and her heart still thrilled at the rumbling tone though the full meaning of his words destroyed her calm. "So you were listening."

He stepped out of the shadows by the stage, his arms crossed over his chest. "I heard part of his pitch."

He'd listened in silence, in hiding, while her father twisted a verbal knife in search of a weak spot. Worse, he'd listened...and he agreed.

Even at her lowest moments this morning, she hadn't imagined anything could hurt as much as those words. You should think about it.

She drained the shot glass and slammed it down on the table. "You want me to go back to Eden?"

"It doesn't have anything to do with what I want," he whispered. "It has to do with what's true. What's right."

The front door clicked open. She turned in time to see Trix duck outside with Zan, leaving the bar as empty of distractions as it was witnesses. No one would save her from this moment, from the words she didn't want to hear.

Still staring at the front door, she cleared her throat. "Is Dallas getting rid of me because I got Lex shot?"

"No." Jasper lifted her arm, sweeping his thumb over her wrist. "He wouldn't do that."

The ink. The promise. Dark laughter spilled free of her as she shook her head. "Yes, he would. Because it's Lex."

"Because it's Lex." Jasper released her with a sigh. "Everything is dangerous out here. That's just life in the sectors."

"Then why?" Noelle asked, rubbing at her wrist to banish the tingles from his touch. It wasn't fair that he could stir her body now, when his words chilled her. "If Dallas isn't trying to get rid of me, why are you?"

He took a step back. Away. "We tracked down the guy who shot you. Alistair Martel. Bren's friend brought him back last night. You knew that, right?"

She nodded.

"Dallas killed him. Not fast, just so he wouldn't be a danger. Slow." Jasper swallowed hard. "He beat him to death with a pair of brass knuckles. Caved the motherfucker's face in. I don't know how many busted bones he had, but he felt like a bag full of broken glass when Bren and I went to move him."

Her stomach lurched. Not only at the mental image, which was unsettling enough, but at the dizzy vertigo of trying to reconcile that brutality with the man who'd collapsed into bed with them last night and stroked Lex's hair until she slept.

Swallowing, she fixed her gaze on the table. "You already said it--that's life in the sectors. I'll get used to it."

"Except that you're not like everyone else, Noelle. You're not stuck here. You don't have to get used to it."

She forced herself to meet his eyes. "You're here." The admission stripped her raw. He wasn't fighting for her, so she couldn't add the rest. You're worth it.

It was the wrong thing to say. His eyes shuttered, and he shook his head. "This shit with Trent... We're going to war, sweetheart. I've never left a woman alone at home, wondering if she'd ever see me in one piece again, and I can't start now. Not with you."

"Not with me," she echoed. Soft words to let her down easy. You're special, they lied, blunting the truth. The heartbreaking, horrifying truth.

You're special...but not enough.

Her eyes burned, but she knew how to hide tears, how to swallow around the lump in her throat until her voice came out smooth and even, empty like Eden. "All right."

"All right." His voice was as dark as hers was light. As full and heavy as hers was blank. "You'll be safer this way. When you stop thinking I'm an asshole, you'll see. You'll--" He broke off with another step back. "You'll see."

Then he turned and stomped through the back exit.

A scream built in Noelle's chest, the need to give voice to her pain so intense that she dug her nails into her wrist until the prick of broken skin dispersed some of the pressure.

He'd walked away. He'd made his choice.

Noelle dropped both hands to the table and stared at the crescent-shaped cuts on her wrist. Blood and ink, black and red. She'd bisected one of the swooping vines encircling the O'Kane logo, and it seemed fitting somehow.

Maybe ink wasn't permanent after all.