Free Beyond Jealousy by Kit Rocha Page A

not so hard he stopped making all that beer they pretend to hate."
    "Pretty much. Not that it matters." Only a fool would overlook how lucky she'd been. "I never fit in there, anyway. I'm happier here."
    "Who wouldn't be?" Six asked, passing the rum to Zan. "Eden's like living in jail, and all the other Sectors are pits. Except One, I guess. Don't meet many people who ran away from One."
    "Just Mad," Zan said, his rough face twisted into a thoughtful look. "Not that it matters to the people who live there. People in One stop him on the street and ask him to bless their fucking babies and shit."
    "To them, he's royalty," Rachel mused. "Here, he can just be--"
    "Mad." Trix rose as he walked in through the door behind the stage, Bren at his heels. "How did it go?"
    "About as expected." Mad slapped Bren on the shoulder and propelled him toward the bar--and Six. "We're all in one piece, more or less. Jas has a split lip and a few bruises for Noelle to fuss over, and Cruz got winged, but he just needed some med-gel to be good as new."
    "Winged?" With Cruz, it could mean anything from a flesh wound to a fucking amputation. "He got shot ?"
    Mad winced. "A graze, sweetheart. Barely shot at all."
    The sudden burst of adrenaline began to subside, leaving Rachel's hands shaking. "Right. Barely."
    "He'll be just fine," Mad assured her. "Ace was looking for you. I think they're in Cruz's room."
    "Thanks." She paused long enough to peer down at a nasty scrape on Mad's hand. "Get Trix to look after that, okay?"
    He kissed the top of Rachel's head with a rumbling laugh. "Go make yourself feel better."
    She couldn't settle down until she'd checked Cruz out herself, until she saw his injuries were really as minor as Mad claimed. That goal held her attention so completely that she was out the door, through the back, and hurrying past the garage before the import of the rest of Mad's words hit her.
    Ace was looking for her. And they were in Cruz's room.
    A fresh wave of nervousness assailed her. She'd given them an implicit promise, but she'd been too wrapped up in worry for their safety to really consider what would happen if-- when --they took her up on it. And there was no time now to center herself. To think.
    By the time she raised her hand to knock on Cruz's door, she was shaking again.
    Ace dragged open the door and hauled her inside without so much as a greeting. "Thank God you're here. He was about to stomp over me to go find you, and I can't talk any sense into the bastard."
    Cruz stood in the middle of the room, his T-shirt bloody and torn over a six-inch span on his side. He looked irritated more than anything, annoyed and frowning.
    "Mad said..." But the words died on her tongue as she reached for him, pulling his shirt up his rib cage until she could see the already-healed skin beneath. "Does anything hurt? Did you crack any ribs?"
    "No." He caught both of her hands and glared at Ace over her shoulder. "He wasted time slapping med-gel all over me."
    "That doesn't sound like a waste to me," she argued.
    "We get it, brother. You're tough." Ace's voice came from just behind her, only a moment before his hands slid around her waist. "I'm sure she's impressed."
    She turned to face him. He seemed unscathed, though a little disheveled and a lot exasperated. "Are you all right?"
    "I'm fine, angel." He smiled and tugged at her hips, forcing her to rock against him. "Unlike some people, I don't charge armed men. I shoot them in the face, like God intended."
    Cruz made a choked noise of amusement, so Rachel tilted her head back against his chest. "It's not funny," she whispered. "If Mad hadn't told me you were fine and that Ace was with you..."
    His smile was different than Ace's. Quieter. Rarer. He cupped a hand under her chin, his thumb sliding up the side of her jaw. "I'll always come back to you. And I'll always bring him with me."
    Always. The word soothed her nerves, but with the two of them standing so close, another kind of tension