Beyond Addiction (32 page)

It was everything that mattered about both leaders distilled to a single moment, and Finn’s own instincts made the decision for him. He took off after Beckett, ignoring Dallas’s furious shout.

Beckett had little hope of rallying the other sectors after this. But humiliation would burn in his gut, and his capacity for revenge outstripped Mac’s the same way his competence had. Beckett would never forgive Dallas. The next time he came for Sector Four, he wouldn’t be coming for Finn alone. He’d be after the blood of any O’Kane he could get his hands on.

But only if Finn let him live long enough to try.

A shot rang out, and a bullet chipped a brick inches from his head. Beckett cursed when he missed and turned back to running, and Finn fought a wild grin.

Soft-ass motherfucker wasn’t used to doing his own dirty work.

Beckett rounded the end of the street, his fancy shoes skidding on the dirty concrete. He disappeared down a narrow alley, and Finn turned the corner in time to see a garbage can clatter to the pavement, spilling pungent trash everywhere.

Finn barely slowed as he jumped it. He knew these streets better than Beckett ever could, knew them because he’d walked them every day while Beckett sat his fancy ass in an office. There were dead ends everywhere, alleys closed off by new buildings or barricades.

And Beckett was headed straight toward one.

“Fuck.
Fuck!
” Beckett slammed his hand against the chain-link fence at the end of the alley with a clatter, then turned with his gun raised. Finn was already on him, slapping it from his hands with one swipe.

It skittered across the alley, beneath some busted crates, and Finn lunged for it. The splintered wood scratched his hands as he felt for the gun, but the moment his fingertips brushed the barrel, pain exploded through the right side of his head.

He hit the ground, grunting at the impact, and rolled to the side just in time to avoid taking a second hit to the face. The board bounced next to his ear, and Finn twisted and kicked, driving his boot up into Beckett’s hands. The board went flying, and the man staggered and hit the wall behind him with a groan.

He rebounded with a louder groan and drove his foot into Finn’s side.

It hurt. It hurt like a bitch, grinding into the lacerated skin over his ribs, but Finn let Beckett take another kick just so he could grab the man’s fancy fucking shoe and jerk him off his feet.

Beckett went down swearing, and Finn reached for the gun again.

“You
bastard
.” Beckett clawed at his arm and his side, his fingers digging in with surprising strength. “Son of a fucking whore.”

Finn drove his elbow back, nailing the man in the chin. His hand closed around the gun, and he rolled back, swinging it up to point at Beckett’s face. “You always were predictable, asshole. Selfish people usually are.”

Footsteps thundered on the pavement, almost eclipsing the shouts that accompanied them. But nothing could eclipse the sight of the dim light glinting off nickel and steel as Ryder and two of Beckett’s other men approached, their weapons drawn and ready.

Finn searched Ryder’s face, desperate for any clue, any sign of the man he’d started to think of as a friend. But his expression was unreadable, his dark eyes blank as he stopped a few feet away, his gun pointed directly at Finn.

Beckett heaved a hoarse laugh and wrenched the gun from his hand. “Decent show, Finn. I see why Mac relied on you so heavily in the past. You’re tenacious.” He waved the gun in the air, then dropped the magazine and cleared the chamber in a few practiced movements. “But you got stupid. Never go soft over a piece of ass, man.
Never
.”

Finn rolled to his knees, because he refused to die on his back, staring up at a walking piece of trash. “Yeah, I’m real soft. Even handcuffed and unarmed, you needed reinforcements to take me down.”

Beckett tossed the empty gun to the ground with a clatter. “Those are your last words? I expected something a little more profound from Fleming’s great thinker.”

Finn judged the distance between them. There was no way he could get the chain between his cuffs around Beckett’s throat before taking a dozen bullets in the back. His side felt sticky, slick, as if those cuts were bleeding more than he’d realized. It was dripping from his forehead, too, sliding down his aching face.

And Ryder still had that gun trained on him, hands steady enough to be their own reminder—friendship had never meant much in Sector Five.

I’m sorry, Trix.
She wouldn’t be okay, not for a long time. But she wouldn’t be alone, either, and maybe Finn’s death would satisfy Beckett’s need for revenge. At least long enough for Dallas to rally strength behind him. The other sectors wouldn’t stand with Five, not after tonight.

Not the ending Finn had hoped for, but the one he’d suspected was coming from the moment he walked through Fleming’s office door and found Trix alive, his own personal miracle. He’d had more time with her than he’d ever hoped for. He’d loved her, held her. He’d said his goodbyes this time.

Exhaling slowly, he lifted his gaze to Beckett’s. Then he gave him the only words he had left. “O’Kane for life.”

The man’s bruised jaw clenched, and he gestured to Ryder. “He’s your friend. You do the honors.”

Ryder huffed out a breath, and his hands tightened on his gun. “Motherfucker.”

If Ryder didn’t do it, someone else would. And the two guards were Beckett’s men. They’d take delight in blowing holes through Finn—preferably in painful places that would take a while to kill him.

Finn met the man’s eyes and hoped their friendship went as far as a clean, swift death. Ryder stared back at him for a moment, his arms taut and trembling, then spat out another curse.

He swung around and fired twice, taking out both of the other guards with neat shots to the head. By the time they dropped, he’d turned the barrel of his pistol to where Beckett stood, shocked and sputtering.

Finn sighed roughly and slumped forward, dizzy under a wave of pure, giddy relief. “Jesus Christ, man. I thought you were gonna do it.”

“I almost did, you dumb shit.” Ryder grimaced. “Fucking hell. I have a job to do, Finn, and you’re fucking it all up.”

“That’s kind of my specialty.” Finn straightened and forced himself to his feet. It only took two steps to reach a guard and pluck a gun from his limp fingers. “If you can’t be here when I kill this bastard…”

Ryder snorted. “Be my guest. I’m tired of listening to him run his goddamn mouth, anyway.”

Beckett tried to take a step back and hit the wall. “The other sector leaders—”

Finn lifted the pistol and cut him off with a bullet.

Blood splattered back against the wall, and Beckett slumped, mouth still open, eyes already glazing, but Finn wasn’t taking any goddamn chances. He emptied the magazine and tossed the empty weapon on top of the body before turning away. “I should have fired faster the first time I had a gun pointed at him.”

“Truth.” Ryder jerked his head toward the mouth of the alley. “Get gone. I’ll clean up here. You got a whole new life waiting for you back in Four.”

Finn hesitated. “You could have one, too.”

“Like I said…” Ryder holstered his gun. “I’ve got a job to do.”

Finn thought of the bag, the map. All those elegant routes plotted out, all headed toward Sector Six. But there wasn’t a damn person in Six
or
Seven with the brains and resources to send a well-trained man like Ryder undercover in another sector.

So Jim Jernigan had plans for Sector Five. “Is your boss a danger to mine?”

“You ask a lot of questions for a man in handcuffs.” Ryder lifted one eyebrow and turned away. “Tell your lady I said hi.”

“I will.” Finn picked up the second guard’s gun on his way by and headed for the street. But he couldn’t stop himself from pausing one last time. “If you ever need a favor, you know where to find me.”

“Bet on it.”

It was good enough. It had to be. Finn turned back to the street, every ache and pain swallowed by the growing realization that he was still alive.

He only made it two blocks before he ran into Hawk and Jasper. Hawk bit off a curse and grabbed Finn’s arm. “Shit, we thought you were finished.”

“Crazy
and
lucky,” Jas muttered. “Beckett?”

“Dead.” He waved off Hawk, who was trying to check his side, and thrust out his wrists. “Dallas and Bren?”

“They’re securing the car.” Jas had to search his pockets, but he finally fished out the key and unlocked the cuffs. “They’re good. We’re good.”

Finn let the metal drop to the ground and stripped off his bandages, too. His wrists hadn’t entirely healed, and Ace would probably kick his damn ass for the pressure he’d put on the artist’s precious work while choking Dom, but Finn’s ink was whole and vivid. A far more promising symbol than his last words.

He was an O’Kane now, baptized in blood, and the words felt right this time. “Then let’s get our asses home.”

The third time Trix’s hand slipped, making a mess of the smooth liner she was applying beneath her eye, she gave in. Instead of wiping it away, she smudged it roughly, then stared at her reflection in the vanity mirror.

She
was a mess. No polished, perfect shows tonight, not for her. But she could work with that. Leather and stiletto heels, mesh to rip away. A whole new kind of performance for a whole new Trix.

Lex sighed and leaned over her shoulder, putting her face squarely in the left half of the mirror. “Honey, you can’t go out there tonight.”

“Why not?” Trix positioned the pencil, rubbed a shaky black line beneath her other eye, then blended it carelessly. “I’m a fucking professional.”

“You’ll make the men cry, and not in the good way. Shit, you’re about to make
me
cry.” Lex hesitated, her breathing uneven and ragged. “Take the night off, Trix, and see what shakes out. Maybe—”

It was madness, interrupting the queen of Sector Four, and Trix did it too readily. “I got enough maybes from Finn, thanks.”

Lex held her gaze in the mirror for a moment before looking away. “I deserved that.”

Instantly, Trix felt like hell. “No, you didn’t. I just—I can’t do this. I can’t be here right now.”

“So take the night off,” Lex urged.

She hadn’t been talking about the club. She’d actually pulled a bag out of her closet and laid it out on the bed. It was still sitting there, empty, clothes stacked beside it, ready to pack. Without Finn, everything seemed so hollow. She’d only just wrapped her head around the idea that he’d be there with her, sharing her home, and now he was gone. And nothing felt the same.

Trix spun around on her stool, ready to tell Lex as much, but stopped short at the veil of anxiety darkening the other woman’s eyes. Jesus Christ, she’d been so tangled up in her own loss that she hadn’t even thought about anything else. “Lex, I—”

“You’re not the only one,” Lex confirmed. “I can’t sit still, either. Every time Dallas rides out of here, there’s a chance that he…” She trailed off.

“That he might not come back?” The fact that she managed to get the words out at all was its own little accomplishment.

“Yeah. Fuck me.” Lex straightened and propped her hands on her hips. “Come on. Let’s get you some tequila. Lots and lots of—”

“Uh, Lex?” Ace popped his head around the door, his expression tense. “You need to get to the garage.”

Lex snapped to attention, her spine straight and tense as she turned for the door. “What is it?”

Ace’s gaze swung to Trix, and he cursed. “It’s not—they’re not back yet. But Logan Beckett’s fucking wife is down there in her damn nightgown, demanding your presence.”

Lex skidded to a halt and blinked at him. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” he retorted. “A silk nightie and a fur coat splattered in blood. And cool as can fucking be. If she’s not high on something, then I’m a virgin.”

Trix rose, a strange numbness washing over her. “What the hell’s going on over there?”

“Let’s find out.” Lex stalked out the door and rushed down the hallway to the back exit.

Trix followed, shivering in her thin T-shirt. The garage was bright but barely warm enough to fend off the chill—especially when she caught sight of Lili Fleming.

Ace hadn’t been lying. Lili’s virginal silk nightgown peeked out from beneath an expensive coat with a thick fur collar and blood staining the sleeves and front. Her long blonde hair was coiled in a painfully tight knot, and her blue eyes were icy.

That cool gaze swept over Trix without recognition before settling on Lex. “Are you Dallas O’Kane’s…?” She hesitated, and Trix knew she had to be searching for a word that wouldn’t offend, because in Five there were only three possibilities—wife, mistress, or whore.

“I am.” Lex circled her warily. “How’d you get out of Five, and why?”

Lili dipped a perfectly manicured hand into her pocket and pulled out a pistol. Zan reacted immediately, driving her against the nearest wall with iron fingers locked around her wrist.

Not even that altered her blank expression. She let Zan strip the weapon from her grip without protest, her gaze never leaving Lex. “I shot my guard. And then I walked.”