Chapter Thirteen

Owen Turner's place was a dump.

The building Zan led them to was on the southeast side of Four, in the no man's land of utter hell. If you kept driving toward the edge of the sector, you'd hit the new buildings, nice and clean, constructed by people who could afford to buy themselves a little space. Past that were the places like Hawk's sisters' farm.

But here—right on what used to be the edge of Four—everything was grimy and rundown and desperate as fuck. Hawk couldn't imagine anyone with the money to bribe their way through Gia's front doors living in a shithole like this.

As if the outside wasn't bad enough, Cruz stopped when they reached the claustrophobic little third-floor landing. He tilted his head, frowned, and eased his pistol from its holster. “Someone beat us here.”

Hawk heard it then—soft and muffled by the walls, but unmistakable. The clomp of boots. The crack and crash of wood. Hollow thuds.

Jasper held up one hand, his brow furrowing. Then all but two fingers folded down as he glanced at Cruz and arched one eyebrow in question.

After a moment, Cruz shook his head and held up three fingers.

Four against three. Pretty safe odds for an O'Kane, especially with a guy like Cruz at your back. Not so long ago, Hawk would have wished for something riskier, the promise of a knock-down, drag-out brawl. But it seemed like a million damn years had passed since those nights Hawk had spent stalking the sectors after dark, spoiling for a fight, desperate to take out his frustration with his fists.

No anticipation filled him as he pulled his own gun and checked it. He didn't have tension and frustration anymore. He had Jeni, and he had dreams.

All he wanted was to get the damn job done and go home to her in one piece.

Jasper waited a moment longer, then nodded firmly. Zan kicked in the door, sending splinters of cheap wood and particleboard flying, and Jas swung into the room. Shouts greeted him, and Hawk stepped through the door just in time for a wiry, unwashed body to slam right into his chest.

Jasper already had one in a headlock when the second intruder—the one who wasn't trying to flee—rushed him. Hawk shoved the terrified man at Zan and hurried across the room.

Jas took a punch to the jaw and shook it off with a growl. “Don't make me wish I'd shot you.”

Hawk grabbed the guy by the back of the shirt and jerked him back, dragging him up onto his toes to cut off his air. He flailed and damn near landed an elbow in Hawk's face, so Hawk shoved him up against the wall hard enough to knock the wind out of him.

“Where's Turner?” Jas demanded.

“Aw, shit, they're not gonna know. These three? They're about the small-time smash-and-grab. Isn't that right?” Zan shook the guy in his grip. “Weren't just dropping in to visit a pal, were you?”

The man was small, but he was fast. He aimed a punch at Zan along with a knee to the balls. Zan caught the swing, but the knee connected solidly, and the guy howled as Zan squeezed his hand until bone crunched.

“Motherfucker,” Zan gasped.

Jasper growled again. “What did you take?”

“Nothing.” The guy locked under Jas's arm was turning red. “The place had been tossed already.”

Cruz nudged one of the pried-up floorboards with his boot. “Maybe it had, but you were still looking.”

The man in Hawk's grip wasn't struggling anymore. He'd gone the kind of still Hawk recognized all too well—prey, trying not to draw the attention of a predator. Hawk stepped back, keeping the bastard crushed against the wall with one hand, and caught a flash of shiny silver in the man's back pocket.

A second later, Hawk had a brand-fucking-new tablet in one hand. No scratches, no dings, none of the evidence of a piece of tech that had changed hands enough times to end up in a dump like this—or in the hands of thieves desperate enough to rob it. “I think I got something.”

Jasper whistled. “That's nice. I know you boys didn't bring that in here with you.”

Cruz crossed the room and reached out. The thief in Hawk's grip started squirming, no doubt seeing the biggest score of his life slipping through his fingers as Hawk dumped the tablet into Cruz's hand.

He flipped it over and studied the tiny serial numbers etched into the back. “This is two models newer than the run they were on when I left Eden. It might even be the last batch the city got out of Eight before they turned on the wall.”

Jasper's jaw clenched, and Hawk realized that he'd been hoping it was all a bunch of bullshit, that'd they'd come here and find Owen Turner with his thumb up his ass, drinking cheap booze and watching half-scrambled porn. That he wasn't a spy, just a lonely asshole who talked big when it didn't count.

Instead, they had a missing spy and a brand-new piece of Eden tech.

The man Jasper had been holding panted for air as he shoved him away, toward the door. “Get out. If I catch you stealing again—if you so much as look at someone funny—I won't be so cordial.”

The guy nodded, already stumbling past Cruz, clearly ready to make a break for it. But the man who'd been holding the tablet was stupider, or greedier, or just plain desperate. “You can't just take that—”

Hawk dragged him up on his toes again, cutting off his words. After trading a look with Zan, Hawk gave the sorry bastard one good heave. He slammed into the dirty floor hard enough to skid several feet.

He came to a stop just short of Zan, who stepped down on his shoulder with one solid boot. “You heard the man. Now get the fuck out of here before I break your fingers too, you thieving little shit.”

The three of them bolted for the door so fast they got stuck all trying to go through at the same time. One of them jabbed the other with an elbow and tumbled out into the hallway, and Hawk fought back a laugh.

Then his gaze dropped to the tablet in Cruz's hand, and his amusement faded.

As the would-be thieves' stampeding footsteps receded down the stairs, Cruz swiped his thumb over the tablet's face. “It's password protected. Five characters.”

“Five?” Jasper turned to Hawk. “The girl over at Gia's place that Turner's stuck on—what did Jeni say her name was?”

Zan snorted. “No one's that stupid, man. Especially not a fucking spy.”

A guy who ran his mouth about shit the way Turner had was exactly that stupid. “Paige. With an i.”

Jasper tipped his head at the tablet. “Try it, Cruz.”

Cruz tapped it in, and both his eyebrows rose as the screen sprang to life. Hawk had rarely put his hands on a piece of tech this shiny before joining the O'Kanes, so he couldn't follow what Cruz did next. His fingers danced across the screen, pulling up windows and entering text.

After another moment, he smiled. “He has decrypted data on here. Noah can compare it to the encrypted version, maybe get a jump on cracking their code.”

“How long would something like that take?”

“A couple weeks?” Cruz shrugged and tucked the tablet into his pocket. “Maybe less, knowing Noah. I'll have him dump everything on here, too. See if we can get an idea of who Turner's been talking to.”

“All right.” Jasper cracked his neck and stretched his shoulders. “Let's move. I'll report to Dallas. Cruz, you take that thing straight to Noah. Zan, Hawk—hit the streets. Dallas still wants Owen Turner, and he wants him alive. Find him.”

Hawk suspected Owen Turner was halfway to the ocean by now, but it didn't matter. “Yes, sir.”

“Let's get this done. We have a party tomorrow night,” he reminded them. “Mad's been waiting a long time to take marks, so he deserves a good one. So do Dylan, Jyoti, and Scarlet.”

Zan murmured in agreement, and Hawk shoved down the surge of envy.

Marks. Ink. Forever. The collar he'd given Jeni was reckless enough. Even if every day he spent with her made him more and more certain that he'd been right, that they were right…

Jeni couldn't see past the war. She couldn't bring herself to envision a future where the two of them got to spend forever together. And maybe it was cruel to keep trying, to build up her dreams, to bind her to him as tight as he fucking could. If he died, it would hurt her.

But if he stopped trying…

Sometimes, she stared up at him with a wonder she couldn't hide. As if she couldn't quite believe that the fantasies he wove around her extended beyond his bed and all the things she was willing to do there. That she was more than a pleasant interlude, or a diversion.

Whether he lived or died, that was one thing he could do. He could show Jeni how she deserved to be loved.

Completely.