Seleste deLaney - [Badlands 02] (16 page)

Tobias wanted to run, wanted it very badly. When he’d planned this encounter, he’d been in a position of strength. Not like this, not at Gambini’s mercy.

“Toby, Toby, Toby, do you know how long I’ve been looking for you? How much fun I had to give up to chase your ass to the fucking Badlands of all places?” Gambini stepped from around a curve on the path, stubble shadowing his jaw. Tobias expected to see a gun aimed at him, but what Gambini held frightened him more. The length of metal, sharpened at both ends, spun between the man’s nimble fingers as the mechanics holding his hand to his arm shifted. “We didn’t even have time to take advantage of any of the women who welcomed us so hospitably to this—” he waved his arm and the rod in a circle, “—fair nation. We’re all aching for a little fun, Toby. So give me one good reason our fun shouldn’t start with you.”

Fingers trembling, Tobias reached into the pocket of his jacket, praying he hadn’t lost it in his trek down the mountainside. The paper crinkled and he allowed himself to breathe again. Pulling it out, he unfolded it and held it up. “It’s the formula.” When Gambini’s expression didn’t change, he pressed on. “To make more of Mason’s dissolution solvent.”

Gambini snatched the paper from his fingers, eyeing it intently. “The potion?”

“Yes.” He didn’t care how stupid or inaccurate the name was, if that’s what Joe Gambini wanted to call it, Tobias wouldn’t argue.

The gangster passed the paper off to the man with the canteen and leaned closer, clockwork eye so like the puma’s, twisting and refocusing. “Don Lupo will be happy to have that, but you know what? I don’t think it’s good enough.”

The metal rod spun, knocking Tobias across the jaw. He fell backward, managing to catch himself on his good arm.
Stay
down
.
Let
him
win
.
Whatever
you
do
,
don’t
try
to
run
.

Broken arm pinned to his abdomen, he sat on the ground, desperate to still the racing heartbeat he knew Gambini could hear through his implants. Tobias closed his eyes, and the instant he did, he knew it was a mistake. He heard movement before he had time to open them again. Then the rod pierced through the hand bracing him and drove into the ground.

His screams echoed up the mountainside, and he had a fleeting thought of the people at the fortress, hoping they could hear him. Hoping they’d understand it had become too late for any of them to run.

* * *

Noise in the hallway woke Henri, but having gone the first night in a long time without nightmares, she kept her eyes closed, hoping for a few more minutes of rest. Besides, she was so comfortable, as if she had a brand new pillow that perfectly conformed to her. She snuggled against the fabric.

Then it moved.

Her eyes flew open and stared across a faded gray shirt stretched over a broad, solidly muscled chest. Carson’s breath ghosted over her forehead, shifting the single curl that rested there. Her fingers trailed over the cotton, absently tucking between the buttons. A few more minutes wouldn’t hurt. After all, it was such a good dream.

But if it was a dream, why were they lying on the rock floor of Laurette’s fortress? Henri jerked upright and Carson moved, stretching his arms overhead, muscles everywhere flexing in ways that made her blush.

“Relax, Doc. If the place was under attack it’d be a lot louder.” He didn’t try to pull her back against him, but if the way his eyes bored into her was any indication, he was simply waiting for her to lie down of her own accord.

Pushing to her feet, she held a hand out to him. “That might be true, but I need to be ready when Spencer comes back with Ever. And we still need to burn the documents.”

Carson groaned but grasped her fingers. “I still don’t like how much of it you want to destroy. What if—”

“We had a deal. This goes beyond what one mafia don has done. If other people know how to do the same thing...” She shuddered. “No one should be able to cheat death. It ends here, at this fortress.”

“There will always be someone else performing similar experiments.”

“Perhaps, but this belongs to me. What we have here, I can end today.” She stepped to the table where two stacks of papers rested. The smaller one, along with some clockwork pieces she’d removed the active mechanisms from, Carson would take back to the Union with him. The larger stack she hefted into her arms.

“Let me carry that.”

She met his gaze without blinking, wanting to be certain he understood exactly what she intended. “There are a great many things I’ll permit you to assist me with, but at the moment I don’t trust you where these papers are concerned.”

Neither of them spoke as they made their way outside. At the fire, she took a section of the papers, holding them in the blaze while they caught, repeating the process until the last of them had turned to ashes that rose on the breeze and drifted away.

She stared at one piece that canted on the wind, still burning. A shiver ran through her body, thinking of all the atrocities she’d found in her father’s papers—all the awful things he’d done in the name of science and profit. If only for a moment, she needed to think about something else, and only one topic seemed likely to distract her. “Why was I sleeping with you?”

“When we finished up last night, no one we found knew where to direct us to bunk down.”

“I remember that much. We spread the packing straw from the boxes on the floor, but I
know
I wasn’t near you when I lay down.” She didn’t know Carson, not really. Regardless of how attractive she found him or how safe she felt with him nearby—how drawn to him she might’ve been—he was a virtual stranger. She knew some of the prisoners in the fortress better. But she hadn’t ever wanted to wrap herself up in any of them, hadn’t ever dreamt of the way their lips felt on hers.

Carson raked a hand through his hair and licked his lips as if tasting the words before he spoke them. She wanted very much to have that tongue trace her mouth again. “You cried out in your sleep. Started shaking. I know it wasn’t
proper
, but I couldn’t leave you like that. So I settled in next to you. I’m sorry if you find it offensive, but I thought it was the right thing to do.”

The flames danced in his eyes, making them come alive but at the same time revealing their dark depths, showing her just how closed off parts of him were. She frowned. He was hiding something. Either that or holding her through the night just to keep her from crying had been as awkward for him as waking up in his arms had been for her. Embarrassed at the realization that a part of her had hoped for more, Henri turned back to the fire. “Thank you. It was the first time I’ve slept well in months.”

He rested his hand on the small of her back, the heat from his skin traveling through her to pool between her legs. “Good. Besides, I never would have been able to rest with all that racket.”

Henri spun toward him, her arousal forgotten and a retort at the ready in case he wasn’t joking. She couldn’t deal with such a blatant rejection. Rather than meeting her eyes, he stared toward the gate, his forehead wrinkling as he squinted past the glare of the sun.

“Better get ready, Doc. Looks like your patient is back.”

The time for banter with Carson had passed. She had a more important distraction. “Bring them to the room two down from where we went through my father’s research. Spencer will be able to help you find it. I’ll go gather my things. And for all that is good and holy, do
not
tell Ever she’s about to lose her leg.”

Chapter Sixteen

A group of warriors carried in the stretcher while Spencer held Ever’s hand, alternating between telling her he loved her and berating her for getting hurt. Carson followed behind. Henrietta caught his gaze as she tried not to look at her patient. The expression there drove straight into her soul. His eyes were soft with a level of understanding she’d never seen before. Like her, he knew what had to be done here.

“Spencer, it might be best if you wait outside.” She scrubbed her hands with lye soap and ran them under water from the stream-fed spout.

“I’m not leaving her.”

She wanted to argue but, before she opened her mouth, Carson stood next to her, his hand squeezing her shoulder, sharing a warmth she needed more than she could explain.

“He won’t go,” Carson said. “Better to let him stay than have to chase him out later.”

As much as she hated to admit it, he was right. Spencer would find a way back in. “Fine. If you’re willing to help, I need the pot that is boiling over the fire outside brought in along with whatever heating mechanism Laurette managed to find. And blankets. She’s likely to go into shock and we’ll need to keep her warm.” She tugged on Carson’s sleeve as he turned to go and whispered, “And straps to tie her down.”

“You aren’t going to sedate her?” Understanding disappeared, replaced by something darker, something that could drive away whatever he might feel for her.

Henri shook her head, twisting his sleeve in her hand. He couldn’t believe that of her. “Of course I am, but this is Ever. Every time I
plan
to do something where she’s concerned it never works. Please just do as I ask.”

At his nod, she busied herself with the equipment. He took the women with him, as if he knew she wouldn’t want them there. Then again, his broad shoulders and muscular build were deceptive. Carson wasn’t some man who relied on his strength for everything—clearly he had a brain to go along with it and had deduced that Ever’s troops would fight the procedure on her behalf.

Once the others had cleared out, Henri picked up her bottle of ether and a cloth. “The procedure I have to perform will be painful. Beyond anything you’ve ever experienced in your lifetime. And I may require the use of some mechanicals.” At Ever’s pained glare, she continued, “I’ll avoid that if I can, of course, but if it’s a question of using them or letting you die, I think we can agree the clockworks are the preferable option.”

Ever pressed her lips together and turned away. Spencer simply nodded, not even meeting her eyes.

“The point is...I will need you unconscious.”

“I hardly think that is necessary. I have suffered pain.”

“Not like this. And every movement you make, no matter how small, will make what I have to do more dangerous.” Uncapping the bottle, Henri poured some of the chemical onto the cloth, careful not to breathe it in herself.

Ever glared at her again, eyes narrow, penetrating. “What are you not telling me?”

She poured more, just to be sure. “That I don’t want to do this, and I hope you’ll forgive me.” Without waiting for a response, Henri slapped the anesthetic over Ever’s nose and mouth, holding it there as the other woman thrashed.

Spencer grabbed her wrists. “Stop! What are you doing?”

Henri fought against his grip and tears sprang to her eyes as Ever’s body stilled. When she met his gaze, he froze. “What I have to. I can do nothing, and she might live.
Might
. Even if she does, the leg will be worse than useless. It will hinder her. Slowing her down and making
everything
she does more dangerous.”

“But she healed from the torn tendon. The one you said would never—”

“This is different. She’s been in a tourniquet for over twenty-four hours because of an arterial bleed. It had to be done, but that much time means the limb is dead.”

His eyes had gone glassy, distant. “What are you saying?”

She opened her mouth but couldn’t form the words for him any more than she would have been able to for Ever. Instead, tears streamed silently down her cheeks.

“The doc’s going to amputate her leg. You can either help or hold your woman’s hand, but it has to happen.” Carson set the pot of boiling water and implements by Henri’s feet and pulled a blanket from under his arm, holding it out to Spencer.

His hand shook as he reached out for it. “She’ll never forgive me for this.”

“If you force my hand, Spencer, I will have Carson knock you unconscious too. I don’t want to do this to her. No matter what she, or you, think of me, I’d never do this to someone if I had another choice.” Henri bit her lip and smoothed back Ever’s long, sun-streaked hair. “I could really use your help.”

Spencer’s jaw worked, emotions obviously battling for dominance inside him. “What do you need me to do?”

“Just keep her unconscious. Don’t use more ether unless you have to, but she needs to stay still until I’m finished.”

Carson tied her hips and chest down with a length of rope, shrugging apologetically. “It was the best they had. Catherine’s on her way with the heat source.”

Henri nodded. “Meet her outside and bring it in. Do
not
let Catherine in here.”

With Carson guarding the door, she fished her scalpel and other tools out of the water with a pair of tongs, laying them out to cool. Spencer paled when she drew out the saw but set his jaw and held Ever’s hand tighter. Slipping a knife beneath the bloody fabric, Henri sliced the leg of Ever’s breeches open, showing the dead, blackened limb for the first time. She couldn’t glance at Spencer to gauge his reaction. If she looked away from the wound, she’d never be able to make herself turn back.

Scalpel in hand, Henri cut through the skin several inches below the tourniquet, gagging as pus oozed out. At least removing the leg would take away the majority of the infection. Choking down her nausea, she bent Ever’s leg at the knee and began cutting the skin on the back of her thigh.

A moan escaped from the warrior woman’s mouth and Spencer cursed under his breath, the wet slap of the cloth on her face following closely behind the last syllable.

Carson set the flaming brazier against the wall—within Henri’s reach, but out of the way. “What do you need me to do?”

“Scrub your hands as clean as you can. Mostly I’ll need you to hand me tools, but if the anesthesia wears off too much, she’ll have to be held down.” Henri didn’t look, and he didn’t respond. Soon enough the pungent odor of lye soap drifted from the back of the room.

She peeled back the skin, severing its connections to Ever’s muscles, until she’d folded it past the tourniquet. With care, she cut into the dead tissue, excising anything nonviable. By the time she finished, the broken bone that caused all of this came into view, the edges violently jagged.

The
broken
leg
didn’t
cause
this
.
You
did
.
If
not
for
you
,
the
rockslide
would
never
have
happened
.

Henri squeezed her eyes shut, willing the voice in her head to silence before she opened them again. Wishing she could have Carson hold onto her the way Spencer held Ever, she said, “Saw.” With the tool in hand, Henri took up position, the teeth biting lightly into the bone. “Now hold her leg steady.”

Fear and self-loathing choked her, reminded her of everything she had brought on this family of women. It should have been
her
leg. She should have been the one to pay.

Strong fingers gripped her arm, squeezing until she looked up and met Carson’s unwavering blue gaze. He tucked a curl behind her ear, his fingers lingering there as he spoke. “Whatever is going on in your head, deal with that later. You need to take care of Ever now.”

With a deep, tremulous breath, Henri drew back on the saw and started cutting.

* * *

Carson stood back as Henrietta finished stitching the flaps of skin closed over the stump of Ever’s leg. Her hands had remained sure and steady from the instant the saw scraped over the bone. In fact, other than that momentary hesitation prior to cutting, she’d been amazing to watch—like a painter, certain each stroke of her brush would create something beautiful. Unfortunately beautiful didn’t describe what she’d had to do here, and the pain that lined her face would also be etched somewhere deep inside her soul. Scars that no one would ever see.

As soon as she tied off the last of the sutures, she squared her shoulders and looked at the captain. “You can let her wake up now. I’ll give her something for the pain and infection, but—” her gaze shifted to Ever’s still form, “—no one outside those in this room other than Laurette can know what happened in here. I have a plan, but I need time. So you have to keep her hidden and keep it quiet. She’ll fight that, which means she’s going to need you. So let her hate me. Encourage her to hate me.”

“You said she would have died—”

“That’s true, but for now, I also took her life away from her. Not the one she was born with, but the one she’s worked for. She’s going to need to hate someone. Better me than you—at least until I can fix it.” She strode to the back of the room, lathering her hands and arms with soap until Carson feared the lye would start eating away her skin.

He opened the spout, nudging her hands toward the water. Knowing Spencer needed some tiny glimmer of hope, he kept his voice low. “You can’t fix this. Her leg is gone, Henri.”

Drawing her violently pink arms from the flow, she shrugged. “Her leg may be gone, but there are always ways to fix things.” She dried her hands and trapped him in her gaze. “Not unlike whatever it is you must be trying to fix with your quest. Because we both know that whatever you’re doing out here, it isn’t performing the duties of a federal marshal. I think before we go out hunting for Tobias, you need to be honest with someone.”

The words made him start, and he stood speechless a moment. There was no way around it. He wasn’t St. Clair and wouldn’t spin a lie out of thin air to cover himself.

“It’s personal.”

“Obviously,” she scoffed. She cast one more glance at Spencer and Ever before dropping the towel. “Besides, isn’t everything?”

After injecting something into Ever’s arm, she strode out of the room, and Carson followed. “Fine. Then what personal issue are you dealing with?”

The only answer she gave was a steely glare before whipping her head back around and marching down the hall.

“All right, let’s try a different question. How do you plan to ‘fix’ this?” As short as Henri’s legs were, Carson had to lengthen his stride to keep up.

She skidded to a stop in front of him and he slammed into her back. Henri twisted in his arms as he caught her. The way she smiled at him, with an evil gleam in her eye, made his heart beat in double time. “By tracking down Tobias and putting an end to the madness that started all of this. Which means for the moment, my personal issues align with yours.”

It didn’t matter how badly he wanted to know what else there was to it. For the moment, her feeble reason needed to be enough. Clearly he would have to share his demons with her before she would open up to him.

* * *

Within the hour, they stood at the ramp to the
Dark
Hawk
in front of a group of Queen Laurette’s finest warriors.

Mahala and Noah blocked their way. The pilot stood with her fingers inches from the weapons at her hips as if daring them to try to cross her even though she had to know she was outgunned. “Ain’t no doing. The cap’n didn’t give no orders, so she ain’t flying.”

Carson knew enough to let Henrietta handle this. If anyone could get them the ship, it sure as hell wouldn’t be him. He could only hope her position on board meant something.

“Mahala, Spencer is with Ever. He won’t come out here to tell you what to do, but he agreed to help Marshal Alexander track down Tobias.”

“Don’t matter a stitch to me. S’far as I’m concerned, we done our duty and brought him here. That little greasy lawman is in the mountains somewhere. The
Dark
Hawk
ain’t going to be any use to you. ‘Sides, I told you—we ain’t going up without orders. Hell, she ain’t flying without the cap’n s’far as I’m concerned.”

Noah took a step forward, positioning himself in front of Mahala, and threw his shoulders back as if he thought it made him look more formidable. “You don’t got a pilot and you don’t got a mechanic. And I know damned well you can’t fly the ship. She only belongs to you on paper, Henri. Like it or not, you need to get that through your skull.”

None of the warriors knew how to fly the ship either—Carson had made sure to ask. The closest was Catherine, who had seen the ship in operation enough times that she thought she might be able to keep them from crashing and suffering a fiery death. Of course, he’d only been looking for Mahala to have a co-pilot. He hadn’t anticipated this kind of outright refusal. By the veins popping out on Henri’s temples and neck, she hadn’t either.

Laying a hand on her arm, he gently steered her away from the ship and shook his head. “Forcing her to take us up at gunpoint might work, but she’s right about one thing. If St. Clair is dead or not all the way down the mountain, he’ll be practically impossible to see from the sky.”

“Fine then. We go on foot.”

Walking meant it took a while, but eventually, they came upon the trap St. Clair had sprung. Catherine glanced at the path, worry creasing her forehead. “I hate to delay us by following the trail, but the traps need to be reset properly or we will have more accidents.”

Carson didn’t want to lose any of the women to busy work. They knew this mountain far better than he or Henri did. At the same time, dying in a rockslide would put an end to his vengeance and his courtship of Henri in the worst possible way. “How many people do you need?”

Catherine crouched near the dirt, staring at tracks he couldn’t even begin to see. “We already passed one or two that need to be checked, but we can worry about those upon our return. For now I am more concerned about what is here and ahead. It would be easiest to send a pair to each as we pass them. Those that finish should be able to move faster than the group and catch up.”