With an internal sigh, he tested the edges of the trap. “If she’s such a prize, why are you getting rid of her?”
“Because she’s—” Trent stopped short when Bren yawned, then shook his head. “She’s not my type. I like blondes.”
The brunette bared her teeth in a half-crazed grin. “And he couldn’t stay on top of me.”
It earned her another backhanded slap and a choking jerk on her collar, and Dallas hardened his heart against her involuntary tears of pain. Only a mewling excuse for a man had to beat a woman to keep her in her place, but this girl wasn’t his responsibility. Every time he showed weakness, he endangered the women who already trusted him with their safety. He couldn’t save them all.
Seeing the unfeigned hatred in her eyes, Dallas wondered if it might be worth it to save this one. There was intelligence there too—though it was difficult to see through the rage—and his gut told him she could be a useful source of information. Trent, in his idiocy, had always underestimated women.
Intimate association with Lex had long since taught Dallas better. “Bren, you like girls with fight in them. You want to break this one in?”
He inclined his head in a slow nod. “I can handle her.”
“In your dreams,” the girl snarled.
Dallas ignored her and quirked an eyebrow at Trent. “I’m not paying for her, if that’s what you’re hoping. I’m here to discuss our trade agreement.”
“I know.” Trent reached out and poked the girl in the hip. “Consider her a bonus, and our terms stay the same. I think that’s more than fair.”
The brunette opened her mouth again, and Dallas cut her off before she could say something that would stab at Trent’s tiny ego and blow the whole thing up in their faces. “Gag her. I’m sick of the screeching.”
“Yes, sir.” Bren rose, unwinding a length of fabric from his wrist as he moved.
The girl fought when he touched her, thrashing with the blind instinct of an untrained street brawler. She knew how to land an elbow in a sensitive spot, but instinct couldn’t compete with Bren, who stood impassive and unyielding as she battered at him. She even sank her teeth into his arm hard enough to draw blood, and he just stared down at her until she began to still. “You done?”
Hatred burned in her dark eyes, but Dallas caught another hint of animal cunning too. Maybe she recognized a rescue, because she did the smartest thing yet.
She kept her fucking mouth shut.
Dallas returned his attention to Trent. “What’s her name?”
“Six.” Trent leaned back in his chair. “You like?”
He shrugged as Bren gagged the girl with that same bland detachment. Jas was probably fuming inside, but Six would survive a little callous handling a lot easier than whatever Trent meted out to the women who pissed him off. “Like what? Her name? Her looks? Pussy in general?”
Trent laughed. “You’re an odd man, O’Kane. Are we square?”
“We’re square. Your usual shipment of grain for our usual shipment of liquor. And we won’t sell to anyone else in Sector Three.”
The man spread his hands wide. “Then everyone’s leaving here happy. Tomorrow night, you know the place.”
“I do.” Dallas let Trent rise before grinning. “And, Trent?”
“Yeah?”
“Next time you feel generous, Lex likes redheads. Sweet ones with big tits.”
“I’ll remember that. Hell…” Trent shrugged. “Maybe I’ll set my sights on figuring out what else she likes.”
Real men. The thought of what Lex would do to a spineless, pathetic bastard like Trent was the only thing that kept Dallas smiling. That and the fact that the idiot was tipping his hand, poking and prodding for a weak spot.
Trouble was coming, and he needed to be ready. “See you tomorrow.”
Trent slipped out the back door. His guards filed after him, one pausing for a long last look at Jasper, who bared his teeth in a snarl.
Dallas waited until he heard the rumble of engines outside. Bikes, because Trent’s sector barely had roads and the cars Dallas kept running would be useless. Sighing, he pointed a finger at Six. “It’s your lucky day, sweetheart. Play nice now, and gagging you’s the worst we’ll ever do.”
She stood stiffly in Bren’s grip, her mouth bisected by the gag, but it didn’t take her long to nod once.
Smart girl. “Get her to the car, Bren.”
“I don’t like it,” he murmured.
“I know. That’s why you’re taking her to the car instead of Jasper. Pat her down too, for Christ’s sake.”
“You got it.” He urged the girl toward the other exit, leaving Dallas and Jasper alone.
Dallas allowed himself a sigh. “Odds are good she’s a spy.”
“Or worse.” Jasper retrieved a crumpled pack of cigarettes from his pocket and lit one. “Trent seemed pretty pleased with himself.”
“Sure does.” Dallas pulled out his own cigarettes and tapped the pack on the table. “Trent and I have always had a difference of opinion when it comes to women and their uses. Maybe he wised up and that girl’s a trap. And maybe she’s just a distraction, and the trap’s going to get a whole lot of us really fucking dead tomorrow.”
“There are ways to minimize losses.”
“And we’ll take them.” Dragging smoke into his lungs, he rose. “Tomorrow. Tonight, we’ve got a party to get to. Don’t get too wasted, eh? Leave that to the lady.”
“Noelle will be all right.” Jasper’s gaze drifted to the door. “What about that one?”
“If she cooperates, she’ll be all right too.” Dallas clapped Jasper on the shoulder. “Cheer up, buddy. Even if she is a spy, Trent treats his women like something he scraped off his shoes. Any of our girls would spit on the best he has to offer. We make that clear enough, chances are she’ll turn.”
“Or else?” Jasper snorted. “Maybe we should have said no. It’s less of a risk.”
“Call it a hunch.” It was the only explanation Dallas intended to give, and for Jasper—for now—it would be enough. Most of his people knew to trust his instincts.
As they rolled out of the meeting place, Dallas’s gut told him something else. Something in Jasper had shifted already, whether the man wanted to admit it or not. He’d come face-to-face with a legitimate damsel in some serious fucking distress, and he’d fixated on the risk she represented.
Jasper was thinking like a man who held lives in his hands. Maybe one life in particular. Dallas only wished his gut hadn’t already warned him how much trouble Noelle Cunningham could be.
Chapter Nine
When queried about the dress code for a welcome party, Lex had told Noelle to wear clothes.
Seeing the O’Kane women turned out in costumes that ranged from scraps that barely qualified as underwear to elaborate dresses with several flavors of denim and leather besides, Noelle understood that the response hadn’t been as sarcastic as it had seemed. The women simply wore what they wanted to wear, and no one gave a damn if they were half-naked or covered from head to toe.
Her own outfit fell somewhere in between. A pair of her new jeans hung low on her hips, and her shirt was close to transparent in the front, with two dozen tiny black straps crisscrossing her back. Revealing, especially since she wasn’t wearing anything under it.
Lex had laughed herself silly when Noelle had asked whether or not she needed a bra. Going without had been Noelle’s bold choice, made with flaming cheeks in spite of Lex’s mirth. She’d joined a sector gang—the sector gang—and if she wanted to go to a party in clothes so skimpy everyone could see her breasts, no one could stop her.
She was a little drunk on her own belligerence, and she hadn’t even touched the liquor yet.