“He will if I tell him to,” Dallas rumbled, smashing out his cigarette in the nearest ashtray. “Jasper, have you still got contacts in the countryside? We’re going to need more grain, fast.”
One of his friends from the farm was managing his own now. “I can handle the corn, but I’ll have to make inquiries about the barley.”
“Good. Bren, work with the girl. See if you can get anything else out of her about Trent’s organization. Especially the people likely to take over now.”
“Maybe it should be us,” Dom muttered.
“Edge into another sector?” Dallas’s fingers stilled. “We’re spread thin enough as it is. I don’t want more territory, I just want their contacts. However we have to get them.”
“And maybe the next guy won’t be an idiot like Wilson Trent. Then you’ve got bigger troubles.”
“We’ve got bigger troubles either way, which is why we’re going to dig in and protect what we have, not get greedy and sloppy.” Dallas jabbed a finger at him. “If you’re so hot to expand, work on finding new recruits—loyal ones who can earn their place the hard way. No shortcuts.”
Dom lowered his gaze, his beefy arms still crossed over his chest in a posture that screamed defensiveness. Dallas ignored him and scanned the table again. “Trent said a few other things I didn’t like, particularly about the ladies. I don’t want the women out unaccompanied until we know what we’re dealing with.”
Jasper rubbed a hand over his face. “I thought you didn’t want Lex twisting off any dicks.”
Dallas pinned him with a cold look. “I’ll handle Lex. I’ll handle all the other girls who aren’t marked or collared, too. Those of you who have women, keep them close.”
A taunt wrapped in admonishment. For all his positives, sometimes Dallas could be a prick as well as a hypocrite. “Message received,” Jasper drawled.
“We’ll see, won’t we?” Dallas straightened and raised his voice. “Hit your rounds. It’s early last call at the club, and the girls’ll want you to clean up pretty and party with them. Get laid good tonight, because we’re all going to be busting ass for the next couple weeks.”
The men started to file out, but Jasper lingered. “Should we more than double up if we have to go into Sector Three, or let those stops slide for now?”
Dallas gestured for Bren to hang back and waited for the other men to close the door before speaking. “Anything outside of Four, I want the two of you on it together. I trust your guts and your heads. You’ll know if shit’s too hot, but you won’t get twitchy and start a territory war.”
Bren shoved his hands in his pockets. “You think a war is what Dom’s after? He’s bucking for you to send someone to take over Three, and he sure the hell wants it to be him.”
“I think Dom wants to get out from under my boot.” Dallas reached for his cigarettes again with a sigh. “He’s a bastard, and more of one every fucking week. Violence should be a tool, not the only way you get off. Not sure he knows that anymore, if he ever did.”
They could let him try to take over Three, but even if Trent’s remaining men sent Dom back in a box, the other sector leaders would see it as an outright declaration of aggression on Dallas’s part. “We can’t let him try it. Nobody would believe he’d acted on his own.”
“No, I’m going to keep him on a short leash. Pair him up with Maddox.” Dallas’s grin bordered on sadistic. “Dom’s not smart enough to know he’s too stupid to fool Maddox.”
Because Mad was an evil genius, the only man in Sector Four more brutally efficient than Bren and more charming than Ace. “I didn’t know he was back.”
“He’s not—yet. But he should be rolling in tonight before the end of the party.”
For all the joking Jasper and Ace had done, it seemed Dom might end up dead, after all. “If anyone will know how to handle it, it’s Mad.”
Dallas nodded. “Now, on the topic of information… Bren, get what you can from Six. Make her life a little more comfortable. I don’t want her running unsupervised through the compound yet, but once we’re sure she’s not playing a long game…”
“I’ll make sure she’s happy.”
“
Bren nodded blandly. “I’ve got it covered.”
Dallas swung to face Jasper. “As for you and Miss Cunningham, I think she knows more about the people running the city than I gave her credit for. Find out how much. No need to interrogate her, but I think she’ll take it a hell of a lot better if you ask than if I have to.”
So that was his endgame. “Do you want me to squeeze her for information or collar her? Because they might wind up being mutually exclusive options.”
Dallas rocked back in his chair and lit his cigarette before eyeing Jasper over the smoke. “You think it would hurt her?”
“Noelle’s father is a powerful man,” Jasper reminded him. “Yeah, I think she’ll mind if we have to crush a few just like him. Not for their sakes, but for the collateral damage.”
“And if it comes down to them or us?”
“She’s not weak, and she’s not stupid.”
Dallas took a long drag and stared up at the ceiling. “I’ve got a little time. You make your decision about her, and then I’ll make mine.”
Jasper had made his choice, and the rest was up to her. No way could Dallas say the same. “She’s still new.”
“She’s one of us.” Dallas’s flat tone invited no argument. “If you can’t keep her and question her at the same time, I’ll respect that. But it means I’ll be the one asking the questions, and hoping she’s as strong and smart as you think she is.”
“Understood.”
“Yes. Yes, it is.”
Dallas seemed just as upset by the conversation as Jasper was, and that quelled a little of his irritation. “Cheer up. Like you said—Noelle’s one of us.”
“Mmm.” Dallas exhaled again, blowing smoke into the air and watching it disperse. “I suppose I couldn’t have you all to myself forever. Get out of here and get some work done.”
Not in the mood to talk about it, then. “Fights tonight?”
“Damn straight. Bet we’ll see a big crowd, too. They always come sniffing around when there’s blood on the concrete.”
“The spectators are even more bloodthirsty than the fighters.” Jasper held up his fist.
“Always.” After only a moment’s hesitation, Dallas left the cigarette between his lips and bumped his own fist against Jasper’s. It was silent acknowledgment, an apology and forgiveness in one gesture.
“Tonight.” The only promise he could offer. He’d get things straight between himself and Noelle. The rest of it was between her and Dallas.
Noelle didn’t need to ask Lex for advice on her wardrobe anymore. She’d chosen tonight’s ensemble on her own, everything from the short leather skirt to the matching halter that wrapped around her throat and ended just above her belly button, baring pale skin and the curve of her hips. She had new boots, too, custom-crafted ones that somehow managed to mix tough practicality with a sleek sort of sensuality.
Dressed in leather and ink and her newly blossoming pride, she looked like an O’Kane. It was exhilarating.
The noise of the celebration hit her the moment one of the bouncers hauled open the door for her. Screams and cheers, drowning out the faint hint of music coming from the far side of the room. The warehouse had stark lighting, bare bulbs that looked like they’d been scavenged from before the storms. They cast their brash but uncertain light everywhere but where the action was—the cage.
A fight was winding down, judging by the shouts and whistles. Noelle ducked past two groupies and started for the far side of the room, where the O’Kanes usually claimed the best tables and couches. More than one unfamiliar fighter grinned at her, and all made slow appraisals of her body that invariably stopped at the tattoos on her wrists. The smiles melted away a little faster than the men, but every one disappeared into the crowd before he could get caught ogling an O’Kane woman.
God, power felt good.
