Badlands (3 page)

Her brain told her to move, that this was not the time, nor was he the man, for an interlude. Her body betrayed the thought, her nipples hardening as her flesh pressed against his wiry frame, and her legs refused to respond. The fact the captain didn’t try to move her made something inside Ever flutter and she felt warmth spreading between her legs.

Ever’s jaw tightened.
No. This man will not affect me. He is a pathetic excuse for a captain.
Her muscles bunched, ready at last to move away from him, when the ship rolled again. The strength in her arms gave out and she fell against him completely, her mouth crushed against his. She froze.

They lay there for a long moment before the captain’s lips moved against hers, saying, “Perhaps it would be wise if I checked on the situation.” His words were the barest whisper against her skin.

The warmth that had threatened a moment before turned to ice, and she rolled off him. “Of course, Captain. I did not intend my clumsiness to interfere with your duties.”

An expression she didn’t recognize appeared on his face, quickly smothered by a mask of stoicism. “I’ll drop you in my quarters on the way.” He turned from her and strode purposefully toward the front of the ship.

After about twenty steps, Zeke intercepted them, heading the other way. “Noah’s working on giving us more speed, Cap’n, but the other airship’s attacking and they’ve got gliders.”

Captain Pierce muttered a curse. “This way, Ever.”

“If you don’t mind, she might be able to help man the guns.” Zeke raked a hand through his already mussed hair.

“Fine.” He faced Ever for a second. “If you can’t or don’t want to, my cabin is the last portside door.” The captain raced toward the bridge.

Ever stared after his retreating form for too long a second before shaking her head and turning to face Zeke. “Lead the way.”

He gave a brisk nod and jogged down the corridor the way she’d just come. Past the shadowy alcove where she’d spoken with the captain, Zeke knelt down, yanked open a hatch and dropped through.

Less sure than the burly man leading her, Ever glanced through the hatchway into a small gunnery boat. She eased her way down and took up position at one of the heavy weapons. Unfamiliar with its operation, she turned to ask but found Zeke already at her side, the stench of sweat and grease assailing her nostrils.

He pressed against her back and reached around to point at the gun. “I’ll get your feed started, but all you have to do is crank this here piece and aim.” On the other side of the weapon, Zeke hefted a box of ammunition and filled the gun’s hopper. “They ain’t actually attacked yet, but I saw them opening up. Gliders are small and can maneuver like birds, and while they’re fast enough to catch us, we can still hit ’em.”

Ever nodded as the first drops of rain pattered against the dirigible hanging above her. “I have but one question.”

“Shoot.” He moved to the other gun and loaded it, intent on his work.

“Are we to leave the other airship alone? Or should we fire on it as well?” She took a knee and sighted down the barrel toward the airship full of the soldiers who had decimated her home.

“Cap’n didn’t rightly specify. Ain’t likely to hit it from this distance, but I doubt he’d be heartbroke if you managed. Just don’t waste the ammo.”

A slow smile crept across Ever’s face at Zeke’s words. This was the type of man who appealed to her. No nonsense, with a love of weaponry that matched her own. And he’d put her hands on a method of exacting some vengeance.

From the bowels of the other dirigible, specks of blue and gray dropped. She took aim and waited for them to draw closer, her heart thudding with anticipation. Yes, this was what made her blood race. The incident with the captain had been nothing more than a strange coincidence.

Chapter Three

Pale blue wings stretched out from a thin frame. It didn’t look strong enough to hold its occupant’s weight much less the mounted weaponry. Ever waited for Zeke to crank off a shot as a sign they were within range, but the glider opened fire first. A bullet tore through the deck of the gunship inches from her right foot.

They were close enough.

Ever tracked the face of the man in the glider with the gun’s scope and turned the handle with as much speed as she could muster. The initial push met with resistance, but as soon as she broke through the barrel ratcheted around and around. Three shots flew before she realized it.

The gun on the glider fired wildly as the corpse in its carriage leaned to the right, dragging the flying contraption into a steep dive. One bullet ricocheted off a strut holding the gunnery boat to the ship above them. Another took out a second glider.

Considering the odds, Ever would take all the help they could get. Ten gliders had dropped from the ship behind them. Seven remained, and already Ever could hear the hiss of air from a leak overhead. Who knew how many hits they’d landed.

She took aim at another glider banking hard to her left. Its mottled gray wingspan spread wide in front of her like some great mountain bird. Her heart wanted to shoot directly at the men who had attacked her home. Firing on the glider itself made her skin crawl. It was the act of a coward. Then a bullet sliced through the air next to her cheek so close she could feel the heat of its passing.

The crank rolled beneath her hand. A bullet pierced the skin of the glider and pieces of shattered wood flew through the air as the wing collapsed. Man and machine plummeted to the ground below.

Rain began pouring down in sheets, obscuring her vision. Each round still met its target, but not every hit brought down a glider. Ever quickly realized puncturing the wing wasn’t enough. She had to make a kill shot on the pilot or cripple the frame. She took down one more with a bullet through a man’s skull, while Zeke finished off the rest.

“Not too shabby for a beginner.” He clapped her on the shoulder.

Ever winced. He had jarred her injured arm, but the backhanded compliment hurt more. She should have been able to outshoot him, regardless of the weather and unfamiliar weaponry. She was a decorated warrior. Her muscles hardened at his touch. “That is not good enough.” Before Zeke could respond, Ever sank to one knee and took aim, cranking slowly. The first shot went too low, blown off course by the wind.

“I thought I told you not to waste ammo. The Cap’n won’t…”

She let his voice trail off to background noise as she kept cranking and raising the angle of the gun. In seconds the other airship dropped back, losing both speed and altitude. Its wings twisted sharply as it fought to stay aloft.

Ever stood and brushed her hands on what remained of her skirt. When she turned to face him, Zeke’s mouth gaped open. “I trust your captain will forgive the lost bullets.”

“What in tarnation did you do? Bullet holes shouldn’t do that much damage.”

“Of course not, but if those holes are all close together and the fabric is strained—”

Zeke turned from her to the enemy airship. “It’ll rip wide open. I’ll be damned. No way they can make those repairs in the air.” A grin split his face as he looked at her. “I knew what you were the moment we picked you up, but there’s a mite more to you than I expected.”

Tucking dripping strands of hair behind her ear, she returned his smile. Yes, this one was a much more reasonable choice of diversion. A fellow warrior who appreciated what she could do. The journey to find Princess Laurette would be several days. Surely the heir would not begrudge Ever fulfilling her needs during the quiet hours on board the
Dark Hawk
.

On the bridge, Mahala stopped trying to evade the gliders and just flew as Spencer controlled the giant wings and kept an eye on the pressure gauges. If they took many more hits, he’d have to send Noah out to do repairs during the battle. The boy would go if ordered, but it would be a suicide mission and Spencer knew it. So he held his lips in a tight line and prayed their altitude held.

Eye pressed tight to the viewer, Noah let out a whoop of joy. “They did it, Captain. The gliders are gone.”

Spencer exhaled slowly. It didn’t mean the other ship wouldn’t send more, but it gave them a window of opportunity. “Glad to hear it, Noah, but I need you to get set on those repairs. Just be careful, it’s still wet out there.” As the gangly man with the easy smile and messy hair ran from the room, Spencer took the seat he’d abandoned with a sigh.

“How close were we, Cap?” Mahala asked, her eyes never straying from the horizon. The storm must have dissipated as quickly as it had rolled in. The last of the sun’s rays just lit the eastern clouds as the desert reached up, its rock strata like a false sunset.

“If they’re done, we’ll be okay.”

“If they ain’?”

“We’ll worry about it if we have to.”

“That close then.” She nodded slowly, the low gas lighting casting her face in shadows. “You reckon she’s really worth this kind of trouble?”

Spencer looked through the viewer, afraid of what Mahala would see in his eyes if he glanced her way. Would she notice the way his pulse sped just thinking about Ever? Or worse, the way he hardened slightly remembering the almost-kiss in the corridor? He squeezed his eyes shut. They hadn’t almost kissed; she’d fallen and landed on him. He had to stop reading more into it.

And confound it, why was he so enthralled with her anyway? She’d made it clear she didn’t think all that much of him. Better to just consider her a job, another run to be finished and forgotten. Too bad she didn’t look like one that would pay. Which meant helping her wouldn’t only anger the senator but also leave Spencer dangling in his grip.

He didn’t have an answer to give Mahala that made sense, even to him.

His eyes drifted open and he squinted through the viewer.
What the hell?
The other airship was falling back and losing altitude, even with her wings set to maintain.

Booted footsteps tromped toward the bridge, and Spencer raised his head to find Zeke standing before him, face reddened by adrenaline and wind. “Did you see it? Did you see what she done? That woman is something.”

The woman in question strode up behind Zeke, her pace neither hurried nor slow, merely confident. She met Spencer’s gaze for a brief second then glanced away, her eyes looking anywhere but at him, finally finding something interesting to study on the floor.

He’d never imagined she would be able to put on an air of coquettishness. That was a move more suited to Henrietta. The longer he studied her, though, the more something inside him insisted it wasn’t an act. She really couldn’t look his way.

His heart sped again and he fought to tamp it down. She was a job, damn it. If he kept letting himself think otherwise, he’d do something foolish. “She is quite remarkable, but I’m not entirely sure what she did.” Like that. As soon as the words left his mouth, he wished he could take them back. Ever’s cheeks flushed, and Spencer wondered how the rest of her reacted to his words, hidden behind Zeke as she was.

Zeke saved both of them from the uncomfortable moment by describing Ever’s attack on the airship in elaborate, and judging by the way she gaped at him, exaggerated detail. “Truth to tell, Cap’n, they’d be on us by now if not for her. I never figured our guns could do enough damage at a distance to make it worth the ammo cost.”

With how rarely sky-fighting occurred, Spencer was just amazed their guns had worked at all. “Thank you for your assistance, Ever. We owe you a debt of gratitude.”

Finally she raised her head and met his eyes, the flush all but gone from her cheeks. “Just help find my…Help me complete my mission, and your debt will be more than repaid.”

He raised a brow at her slip as he stood. “That we can do. In the meantime, I believe you needed some suitable attire.”

Mahala waved from the pilot’s seat. “Like I said, take what she needs. I never had so many clothes in all my life as I do now. Not sure what to do with ’em all.” She turned from the controls for a brief moment and smiled in Ever’s direction. “It’s a pleasure to meet a woman who can impress that brute.” She winked at Zeke.

“Now, Mahala, you know you impress me every day.” Zeke slipped past Spencer to take the vacated captain’s chair. “Like that time you almost crashed us into a mountain.”

“I did not crash us into a mountain.”

“I know. That’s what impressed me. ’Cause till then, I didn’t think you knew how to fly.”

Spencer shook his head and waved Ever through the door and down the hall. She stopped in front of his quarters.

“Go on in. I’ll just grab a couple things from Mahala’s room.” He swerved around her, but she didn’t budge. Was this some weird display of propriety, expecting him to open the door for her? Maybe she was unsure how to act with what she’d seen of Henri and Mahala. His hand brushed her arm as he reached for the knob and pushed the door open. He had to resist the urge to touch her again as he pulled back. “Make yourself at home.”

Still she didn’t cross the threshold. “This is your personal domain. Are you certain you want me to enter?” Her voice was quiet, barely audible over the noises of the ship.

With her back to him, Spencer couldn’t study her face, couldn’t read what made her hesitate. “It isn’t like you’re barging in without knocking. Make yourself comfortable, and I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

The muscles of her shoulders and back tightened, but she nodded and stepped into the room.

Spencer crossed the hall, opened Mahala’s door and sifted through her clothes. Ever hardly seemed the type to care about fashion, but he knew she wouldn’t give up her weapons belt and studied the shirts with an eye for what would work with the well-oiled tan leather. He pulled out two shirts, one a deep red, the other pale green. Then he moved on to Mahala’s pants, hoping to find a pair that would fit over Ever’s long, lean legs.

Waiting inside the captain’s quarters, Ever’s hands balled into fists. He would return momentarily. If she didn’t move, she couldn’t be tempted to search for some explanation of the way he made her feel. For the heat that had started on the bare skin he’d brushed opening the door and had traveled through her body, settling between her legs and drawing moisture from her core.

It was madness. She was here on a mission. If she required release from weeks of frustration in the desert hunting for new prisoners sent across the border, that was one thing. This? This was something else entirely, and she needed to cure herself of the insanity immediately.

Her muscles loosened, and she rolled her shoulders as she stepped toward the desk bolted to the floor in the corner nearest the door. Her fingers trailed on its smooth surface, dipping into the grooves caused by hours of use. She paused there, wondering what Spencer did at his desk. Shipping manifests? Letters to family—or a woman—back in the States?

She clenched the hand into a tight fist and squeezed her eyes shut for a moment before moving deeper into his room. The straps holding his closet shut fell beneath her fingers, inviting her to take a closer look. Inside, everything hung in strict order. Pants in one section, shirts next—all arranged in a faded rainbow of color. A weapons belt hung between the shirts and a deep brown duster. She toyed with the belt, examining it with the eye of an expert. The leather was worn, but well made. It was smaller than hers, designed for fewer weapons, and she wondered if he favored guns or blades since there were holsters for both.

“Blades.” She imagined him walking into a fight, at a visible disadvantage while some cocky gunslinger lazily drew a weapon. He’d whip the blade out and let it fly, embedding it in the other man before he even had the gun clear of its holster.

Ever gave her head a fierce shake, shut the closet and reattached the straps. “He’s probably worthless with a weapon. Any weapon.”

The bed beckoned to her weary body, and she perched on the edge of it, afraid what she might do if she allowed herself more comfort than that. Hands knotted in her lap, she breathed deeply, trying to replace thoughts of the captain with something else. Anything else.

Images of Zeke’s face, flushed and smeared with gun oil, came to mind, and she sighed happily. He was a pleasant distraction, one she could cope with.

She opened her eyes, calm at last, and saw the tintype near the head of the bed. Captain Pierce and a beautiful woman with wide, bright eyes and a mischievous smirk. Ever’s chest tightened, happy thoughts of Zeke banished from her mind. There was a woman waiting for Captain Pierce.

“Good for him,” she said, trying to mean it, but the pang of jealousy didn’t abate. Her fingers laced behind her neck, Ever closed her eyes and pulled on her spine, hoping the pain would shake her free from her thoughts.

A gentle cough made her eyes fly open.

“You’re bleeding again.” The captain nodded at her arm.

As she lowered her hands to look, blood dropped from the wound onto his coverlet. The crimson spot stood out in stark relief against the dingy ivory spread. It didn’t belong there any more than she belonged here. In his room. On his bed. Ever shot to her feet. “I am sorry. I did not—”

The captain laid a hand on her shoulder, applying the gentlest of pressure to push her back down. “More worried about you than the bed.” He tossed some clothes next to her then went to his desk, unlocking a drawer and rooting around inside.

Ever’s heart pounded against her ribcage. She should go. Take the clothes and…And what? He hadn’t assigned her quarters. There was nowhere on the
Dark Hawk
she could hide from him.

And she didn’t hide.

Men hid in fear of her, not the other way around. Her reputation haunted the borders of the Badlands. Prisoners sent into exile knew her on sight. They either feared or hunted her, thinking to make her some sort of trophy. She didn’t allow those men to live long enough to reconsider.

Yet here she was, contemplating running from a man armed with nothing more than a cloth he dug from his desk. Ever squared her shoulders, determined to silence her irrational panic. He was just a man. A captain, yes, but still just a man—and a small one at that.