Beyond Pain by Kit Rocha Read Free Book Online Page B

with lies and broken promises.
    It wouldn't be the same this time. She wouldn't let it be. "When do we start?"
    "Depends." A little of his humor returned, tilting his lips up in a smile. "How are you on a bike?"

    The ruin of Sector Three was disorienting.
    Back when the place had been a hub of electronics production, the manufacturing plants had been right in the middle of it all, with homes and shops built up around them. When Eden bombed the shit out of the sector, they aimed for dead center, intent on destroying those factories. The carnage radiated outward, damn near to the borders, like ripples that gradually faded.
    Until you made the trip in reverse, straight into the heart of Three, and the destruction snuck up on you until you were surrounded by nothing but stacks of refuse and dirty rubble.
    Not that anyone had put forth much effort to clean it up. Bren pulled his motorcycle to a stop in front of the squat warehouse Wilson Trent had used as his headquarters. Even here, piles of debris had been pushed into alleys, forming blockades that might have been deliberate but looked haphazard. Haphazard--that was a good word for the whole damn place. Messy, disorganized.
    Chaotic.
    Not if Dallas had his way. He'd clean it up, all right, in ways the other sector leaders expected, and in others they'd never dreamed of.
    Six pulled up next to him and cut the engine on her borrowed bike. She was all hard edges today, severe in borrowed leather, with her hair scraped back from her face in a braid so tight it looked painful.
    Her gaze swept that ugly tangle of rubble before she said something really depressing. "Looks like someone's been trying to fix the joint up."
    "That's just fucking sad." Bren slid from his bike and rubbed his neck. "Shit, where do we start?"
    "With whoever's minding the shop today." She swung a leg over her bike and turned--not toward the warehouse, but to an equally rundown two-story building on the other side of what passed for the street. "They'll be in the bar."
    Bren had heard stories of Trent's efforts to reproduce Dallas's success, but by all accounts the nameless strip club was a pale imitation of the Broken Circle. The tales were confirmed when he walked in. The place was deserted except for a handful of nearly naked women clustered around the bar, drinking. No customers, no music, just the bored dancers.
    One looked up, her dull eyes barely focusing until Six stepped up at his side. Shock twisted her features as she leaned in to whisper to the other girls. One by one, heads swiveled while Six stood in silence, enduring their gawking stares.
    The moment broke when the first girl slid from her stool and bolted through a beaded curtain without a word. The blonde who'd been seated next to her stubbed out her cigarette and rose to face them. "Fuck, woman, I heard you were dead."
    "Damn near was." Six's voice was neutral, with the tiniest hint of a tremor. "Got lucky."
    "I'll say." The blonde shifted her black-rimmed gaze to Bren and gave him an appreciative once-over that made Six tense. "You guys looking for a party?"
    The denial was automatic, but it died on Bren's lips. Six was wound tight, ready to explode. He wanted to drag her back out of there, away from everyone who remembered the things she wanted to forget. Wrap his arms around her and whisper until that tension melted.
    Neither of them had that luxury. Today, they were both soldiers, and they had a job to do. Like it or not, these women had what they needed--information. The real shit, the kind that could matter.
    He pulled some cash from his pocket, a single folded bill that he held up between his fingers. "Lead the way."
    The blonde snatched the cash and held it up to the grimy light, and Six bit off a disapproving noise. "It's not painted paper, Katie. But you shouldn't be checking where we can see."
    "Hey, life ain't as civilized as it used to be," the woman muttered as she tucked away the bill and turned. "You coming or not?"
    As they