Beyond Shame

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?”