Seleste deLaney - [Badlands 02] (14 page)

Shaking her head, Henri stepped farther into the cave. “And how are we supposed to find you again? Follow the cat?” If she could get the gun away from Ever, perhaps...

Ever cocked the weapon. “Yes. My sister will send it back for me and you can ensure that a rescue party comes with it. You swore to protect my family. Watching me die protects no one.”

As much as she hated to admit it, Henri knew the warrior woman was right. “I’ll send help.”

“I know you will.” Ever half hissed, half growled at the cat then said, “Take her home, Cy.”

The animal chuffed and climbed over the rocks. Knowing if she waited, she risked changing her mind, not out of any sense of right but out of fear, Henri scrambled out of the cave after the puma, hoping in a twisted way that she’d have the chance to amputate Ever’s leg after all. If only because it would mean the woman had survived.

* * *

The queen hadn’t lied about sticking Tobias in with the prisoners. Fortunately, he’d been given a cell to himself. For all he knew, he’d been responsible for sending some of the other men in here across the border. Facing them alone in a locked room didn’t appeal to his sense of self-preservation. Of course, when the guard unlocked his door in the morning, instead of rushing forward to get out, he stepped back, his mouth open.

The guard peered into his cell. “Are you coming out or not? The queen said I should take you to the room where Dr. Mason was storing her things.”

“B-b-but...” Tobias tugged on the hem of his shirt in an effort to compose himself. “But you’re a man.”

Chuckling, the guard smoothed his beard. “Last I checked. Don’t let that fool you, though. Women still rule here. Quite frankly, I don’t want it to be any different.” He waved a hand toward the corridor.

Tobias picked up his jacket and dusted it off before stepping from the cell. “Why? It would seem once prisoners are released they’d band together to take power.”

“That’s Union thinking.” The man waved at another guard—a woman this time—who led them into an open area surrounded by guardrooms. Once they entered, she moved to a door on the opposite wall and unlocked it, releasing them into the fortress proper. They twisted and turned down more corridors than Tobias could track, but perhaps that was the plan. The guard opened another door at last, reached in and swept a hand gently over the dimly glowing lichen on the walls, making them flare to life.

He leaned against the door, arms crossed over his barrel chest, and Tobias couldn’t help but feel dismissed. Inside the room, he found himself facing the impossible. It looked much like the loading bay of the
Dark
Hawk
only fuller, with boxes and crates lining the walls. In the middle of it all stood a stone table that seemed as if it had been carved straight from the mountain rock.

Moving into the depths of the room, he picked up the first box, planning a methodical search. Henrietta had clearly taken all her father’s records, intending to sort through them later. Tobias searched a dozen boxes and everything he found was either failed or in-process experiments that had nothing to do with Mason’s work for the mafia. Nothing he could appease Lupo with.

He lifted the lid from another box and pulled the notes free, glancing at the equipment beneath. Nothing of interest there, just more parts and old clockworks. He flipped pages, eyes passing over diagrams and formulae that all began to blur together. An air of futility settled on him like a weight, making him sink lower and lower, and he nearly missed the sheet. Only after he’d turned the page did the note scrawled at the top register.

For
I
.
L
.

For Ignazio Lupo.

He casually turned the sheet back, trying not to draw the guard’s attention, and perused the chemical equations and experimental data. What he saw made him salivate. Even if he found nothing else, this would keep Gambini and the other dogs off him. Slipping the page free, Tobias folded it and slid it into his pocket. With renewed vigor, he searched the remainder of the papers in his hand. Nothing.

A commotion in the corridor grabbed the guard’s attention.

“What is it?” Tobias asked, hoping whatever happened would allow him the opportunity to keep looking...without the surveillance.

“Sounds like a sentry just caught sight of the
Dark
Hawk
. Looks like you’ll have help soon. ’Course it also means unloading the rest of Dr. Mason’s things. If we’re going to get grub, we need to do it now.”

Time was up already. Henrietta Mason knew too much about the part he played in all of this. If any of her crew—or worse, that Ever woman—found him here, he’d not only be back in a cell, he’d be in chains. The formula would have to be enough. He closed his fist around a cylinder from the box—small enough to hide, solid enough to hurt.

“Certainly. I haven’t eaten since I was first brought in. I’m quite ravenous.” Tobias stepped to the door and waved his empty hand into the corridor. “I’ve no idea where we are. Lead on.”

This time he paid attention to their path, marking in his mind every turn that seemed the least familiar. When the guard rounded one last corner, he realized he needn’t have bothered. In front of them, a door stood wide, opening onto a different yard than where he’d been brought in. One large enough to allow an airship to touch down.

And on the far side stood a corral...teeming with horses. For the first time since Gambini’s men had fired on the
Dark
Hawk
, a smile crossed Tobias’s face and he swung his metal-enforced fist at the back of the guard’s head. A strange sensation rolled through his body as he took off running.

It reminded him vaguely of hope.

Chapter Fourteen

Carson leaned against the side of the gunboat, watching over the edge as they descended. Another hundred feet and he’d see Henrietta again. His time aboard the ship had made him understand the first threads of the turmoil wrapping around her soul. As soon as he was able to shove this mess with St. Clair out of the way, he’d make her understand she didn’t have to live by anyone’s rules but her own. That building the gilded cage herself wouldn’t make it any less of a prison.

Closer now. Trees pierced the sky all around the tiny patch of cleared earth. It didn’t look big enough to land in, even without the surrounding trees threatening to puncture the airbag overhead, but he had to trust in Mahala’s ability to fly this contraption. The rest of the crew had survived her landing the ship here before. It was only a new—and terrifying—experience for him.

The trapdoor to the gondola opened, and Noah popped his tousled head through. “Cap’n really wants you up here for landing. Says staying in the boat’s even more foolhardy than anything Ever would pull and, to be fair, from him that’s really saying something.”

The boat rocked as Carson moved to stand beneath the opening. “I respect your captain, I really do. So if you’d be so kind as to—very respectfully—tell him to stuff it, I’d be in your debt.”

Noah snorted. “Yep, you even kinda sound like Ever.”

The door slammed shut above him and Carson shook his head. With all the stories he’d heard of the warrior princess, he couldn’t tell if the comparison was meant as a compliment or an insult. In the end, it didn’t matter. He made his own decisions, and something in his gut said he needed to be down here.

Their movement slowed as the treetops grew nearer. From above, the fortress seemed so small, a building barely large enough to house the queen and her troops...and not in comfort. If not for the fact that he’d been informed it was actually carved into the mountain itself, he’d never believe it was more than a small outpost. While Noah told him the fortress wasn’t new, the fact that Queen Laurette chose this as her base of operations impressed him. The odds that Gambini, or any of Lupo’s men, would find it by chance were more remote than the fortress itself.

Thinking of the mafia boss made him focus on the building again. Somewhere inside were the papers that would link Ignazio Lupo to the unkillable mafiosos and hopefully provide information on their weaknesses. And if he had any luck at all, Tobias St. Clair would be inside as well. Hopefully in chains.

And Henrietta...

A draft swept past, and his muscles tensed as he watched the trees swing closer. But it was only the gunboat that moved sideways. The ship proper rose with the current, rather than fighting it, as if one with the air. He had to give Pierce credit. The man had one hell of a crew.

Inch by torturous inch, they drifted lower. He peered over the edge. A handful of people stood against the building, waiting to tie the ship down. Another ten feet or so and they’d be landed.

Carson started to pull his head back into the gunboat, but movement—and the distant yells of “stop him”—jerked his gaze back to the ground. A man in a tattered suit rushed from the open doorway and across the landing area, ducking under the
Dark
Hawk
. The ship itself cut off the pursuers as it landed, filling the space. Carson rushed to the other side of the gunboat and watched as the man climbed into the corral.

“Blast you to the seven hells, St. Clair!”

The man would be on a horse and away before they touched down. The warriors
might
manage to stop him, but Carson wasn’t willing to bet his lone witness on a maybe. With a jump, he swung his legs over the top of the gunboat and fell to the ground, landing in a crouch that twisted his ankle. Snarling past the pain, he pushed to his feet and ran-hobbled toward the corral in time to watch St. Clair and his mount leap the fence and race around the side of the building.

By the time he made it to the horses, warrior women had already been there, grabbing mounts and tearing after the damnable lawyer. Calming an animal long enough to mount it with his fresh injury proved difficult. The
Dark
Hawk
was tethered before he cornered one and clambered onto its back. Once out of the corral and around the building, he galloped down the path.

He raced past trees and rocks, all the scenery a blur as he sought to catch up with the warriors. A loud rumbling gave him half a second’s pause, but even as his mount shied from their path, Carson urged it forward. Nothing would stop him from getting St. Clair. Certainly not anything as stupid as a bit of thunder. Soon enough the noise was more than he could ignore, and all pretense it was just a storm disappeared. It wasn’t long before he was met by the women returning, their mounts trudging back up the mountainside.

“What are you doing? Go after him.” He tried to surge past them, but one made a strange sound—half whistle, half click—and his horse dug its hooves into the dirt.

The woman trotted over to him and laid a hand on his shoulder. “The prisoner sprang a trap a short way down the mountain, not far past where we first found him. Either he is dead or we will have to wait until the dust settles to pick up his trail. Nothing can be done now.”

Rage built inside Carson as they rode back. Once he slid off his mount, one of the women took it, leaving him plenty of room to pace and dwell on his worries. All this time. All the stupid, careful planning had given him what? Mason...dead. St. Clair...dead. He’d already searched the cargo on the
Dark
Hawk
. If the papers the courts needed weren’t here at the fortress, he had nothing.

And odds were, if he didn’t bring in enough to convict Lupo, he’d lose his badge for coming out here in the first place. Hell, even if he had the evidence, it was still a risk. And what of Henrietta? If Lupo found her...

No. Carson couldn’t focus on that. He’d protect her—it was the only course of action he could stomach. Hide her away from the mafia somewhere. Hopefully it wouldn’t come to that. He didn’t want to cage her either, so he prayed that together they could find enough to put Lupo and his army in prison.

Still, he fumed. The lawyer shouldn’t have run. He had to know nothing he did would be enough for the mafia. All his flight had done was threaten more lives. If St. Clair survived whatever idiocy happened on the mountain, he’d be lucky if Carson didn’t beat him to within an inch of his life. The fool didn’t have to be in one piece to testify.

A short while later, Noah informed him that Henrietta and Ever hadn’t reached the fortress yet. Fear settled into place and tried to smother his rage. As much as he wanted to destroy Lupo, the idea that something had happened to Henrietta tore at his heart. He wanted to go out and search for her, but he didn’t even know where to begin. Instead he stalked by the fire outside of the fortress, hoping and praying that she was okay.

Mahala came out a brief time later to replace the stitches he’d torn when he jumped from the gunboat. Then Noah, and even Catherine, had come to the courtyard to try to lure him inside. When neither food, his injury, nor even Mason’s things tempted him in by sunset, they sent Captain Pierce. The smaller man matched the length of Carson’s hobbling stride and handed over a cup. Carson lifted it to his lips then raised a brow as the scent of whiskey met his nose.

Spencer shrugged and held up his own cup. “I figured you could use it. I know I sure as hell want a drink.” He took a swallow and tipped his head toward the gate. “Henri and Ever are still out there somewhere.”

Despite the heat of the season, the fire blazed high in the courtyard, and Carson let Spencer lead him to sit near it. He couldn’t think about Henrietta, couldn’t stomach the possibility that their one kiss might have truly been the last. Better to focus on the captain. “You really love her, don’t you? The princess. Regardless of all the quasi-insults you spout when you talk about her.”

“If you knew Ever, you’d understand that if I stopped saying those things, she’d lose respect for me. One of the reasons we fit so well together is, no matter what, we always mean what we say. She knows I think she rushes into danger. I know she thinks I talk too much and don’t fight enough.” The flicker of flames danced on Spencer’s skin as he let out a long, slow exhale. “And yes, I really love her, for those reasons and a lot more.”

Carson thought of Lily and all they’d gone through together, only to have it ripped away by a moment of violence. And now perhaps something similar was happening with Henrietta. Torn apart by the machinations of the same damned man. He downed the whiskey in a single swallow. “Be careful with her. You never know when someone will take her away from you.”

Spencer tossed the last of his drink on the blaze and it flared as if set to burn the sky itself. “Sure, I could cage her, keep her from all those demons she feels she has to fight.” Carson shuddered at the echo of his earlier thoughts. “But you know what? She wouldn’t be Ever anymore if I did. She’d lose the fire that makes her so incredible. I don’t want a shell of the woman she is, I want her. And if this mess means the moments I had with her at the camp were our last then I’ll hold on to them because Ever and I never pretend that forever means a long time. We don’t worry about being careful because we don’t want to waste the moments we have together arguing about what that means.”

“So you’ll be fine if she doesn’t come back? Is that what you’re trying to tell me?” Carson knew better. Hell, he didn’t have Henrietta, and he couldn’t bear the thought of losing even the possibility of her.

“Hell no. I’ll rail to the heavens and probably do my damnedest to kill you and every other person connected to this mess. But I won’t live with regret. I’d live with the passion and fire she would want me to have.” Spencer stood and stretched. “Whoever drove you to do what you do, ask yourself if this is truly how she’d want you to live.”

Gritting his teeth, Carson stared at the flames. He
was
doing the right thing. No little airship captain would convince him otherwise.

“I almost forgot—” Spencer called over his shoulder as he walked away, “—Queen Laurette requests the honor of your presence.”

And what the hell would the queen say that he didn’t already know? He wasn’t an invited guest. Just someone here to deliver bad news and search her storerooms. As much as he knew he should go in, that propriety demanded it, he sat at the fire and dwelled on Spencer’s words.

What
would
Lily
want
for
me
?

She’d never believed in violence, he knew that much. But would she understand? He wasn’t just avenging her death, he wanted Lupo put away to protect other people too. But ignoring that, she sure as hell would have wanted him to move on by now. He could almost hear her voice berating him for not having a woman in his life.

Henrietta. In his mind, her full lips, swollen from his kiss, curled up into the most glorious smile he’d ever seen.

And what would she want him to do?

Carson shook his head, the whiskey burning through his blood. The musings about life and love would have to wait—the queen wanted to see him after all. With a groan, he started toward the building. Then, from the corner of his eye, he caught sight of an animal slinking through the courtyard. A goddamned cougar. None of the warrior women standing guard so much as flinched at the sight, so he decided it must be normal here in the mountains.

The sound of someone gasping, “Thank God,” sounded very much out of place though. Ankle protesting, he spun around. Blond curls torn loose from her coiffure and covered in blood, Henrietta shuffled through the gate.

“Henrietta?” He rushed forward, catching her as she tripped over a rock.

She gave him a tired smile—nowhere close to the one he’d imagined, but beautiful nonetheless—her fingers tangling in his hair. “You made it.” Her hand paused and she frowned. “Tobias?”

He shook his head. “He took off as we landed, triggered some sort of rockslide.”

“I heard it as the demon-cat led me up the mountain. It doesn’t matter. I need to see Queen Laurette right away.” She shoved away from him and promptly fell on her ass.

“Seven hells, woman, you are a piece of work.” He reached out a hand, having the good sense to realize she wouldn’t want him to pick her up and carry her.

She clutched his fingers, and he pulled her to her feet. Dusting off the seat of her breeches, she smirked. “And you, while familiar with Shakespeare, obviously have not studied your Dante. There are nine circles of hell.”

Clenching his hands into fists, he pushed his frustration down. She might have died, and instead she stood here bantering with him. “We can discuss literature later. For now, we need to check you for injuries. Then there’s your father’s research—”

“It can wait.” She staggered around him, heading toward the fortress, where a handful of warrior women stood watching their exchange. “I need to speak to Laurette immediately. She’d never forgive me if my dallying resulted in Ever’s death.”

Spencer’s woman. His heart clenched for the man, and he wrapped Henrietta’s arm over his shoulder. “Let’s get you inside then.”