Seleste deLaney - [Badlands 02] (17 page)

One glance at their party and he knew they couldn’t afford to lose more than a couple people at a time. What Catherine was suggesting could have their numbers dwindling at a time when they were most needed. Especially since he couldn’t accept the idea that Gambini had just given up and stayed in Philadelphia.

Henrietta touched his arm, her fingers feather light but her voice like steel. “I’ve seen these women in action. They won’t dawdle or desert their post with us.”

“Fine, but I want no more than four gone at a time.”

Catherine shrugged. “Your Mr. St. Clair survived the blast. Or at least his body did. It rolled that way.” She pointed down the slope then left, presumably to send two of the warriors off to disarm the first of the traps.

He stared down the mountain, wondering if St. Clair was actually dead.

“Why are you so worried all of a sudden?” Henri asked. “You seemed much calmer before we left the fortress.”

The fact she read him so well didn’t unnerve Carson nearly as much as the knowledge that she was right. He had been more sure of their success just a handful of hours earlier. “You know how some people who suffer an injury will feel it ache long after it’s supposedly healed?”

Henri’s arm wound around her abdomen. “Yes. It’s most commonly attributed to changes in the atmosphere corresponding to incoming weather fronts.”

“It might not be common, but just like those people can anticipate the weather, I sometimes feel when things are going to happen.”

Even though he braced himself for her to mock him, she only nodded and twined her fingers in his. “And what are you feeling this time?”

So she wouldn’t see the play of emotions on his face at her touch, he turned back to the marks of St. Clair’s passing—the ones that looked just like the rest of the forest to his eyes. “Like we’re going up against more than one injured man on the run. Like we’re going to war and will need all our wits about us.”

Henrietta edged closer as he spoke and shivered against his side. Moving on instinct more than thought, he wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

“In that case, I suggest when we find a spot to camp, we get as good a night’s sleep as we can.”

He pulled her even closer, needing to feel her in his arms if only for a moment. While the advice was sound, he couldn’t help but think it wouldn’t do them any good at all. Not when every instinct screamed that death was coming for them—in the guise of Joe Gambini.

* * *

Leaning against a towering pine, Gambini watched as his men slumbered. A few skirted the edges of their camp, weapons ready. Like him, they’d had more enhancements than the others and needed less rest.

For the third time since they’d stopped, he glanced at the tracker in his hand. The device shot onto the airship as it took off had allowed them to follow it to the mountains, and it hadn’t moved since yesterday. It looked so close, but he wasn’t deceived. A couple thousand yards west on a map still meant hours, if not days, of hiking.

A low moan and a whimper drew his attention to the other side of their camp. His ocular implant twisted into focus. The lawyer. Somehow the fool really thought giving him the formula for the potion would make him show mercy. He scowled across the clearing. The man should count himself lucky to be alive. Maybe if they obtained the rest of what Don Lupo wanted, the lawyer would get an implant or two to fix his broken hands—or the eye Gambini had taken. Then he might understand what loyalty really meant.

At least St. Clair had spilled some useful information before losing consciousness. They would make it to the landing site by tomorrow...as long as they avoided the traps rigged along the way. The idiot had tripped one of them on his way down. They’d already found a couple and skirted around them, but the lawyer had no idea how many more they’d encounter.

Other than acknowledging that the ship was atop the mountain, which they already knew, and Mason’s research was stored there, he’d been oddly mum about what else they’d find or why the path would be booby-trapped in the first place.

One more hour and Gambini would wake his men. The ocular implants captured more than enough light to see by. Those with them could lead those without.

In less than twenty-four hours, he’d be one step closer to becoming the greatest thing the mafia had ever built. He’d be the first, his prize for bringing back the research and the senator’s brat. He flexed his hand into a fist, watching as the mechanism that used to be his arm shifted.

One
step
closer
to
perfection
.

Chapter Seventeen

Henrietta’s eyes opened, searching the darkness for whatever had disturbed her sleep. Something moved to her left and she jerked her head that way, her eyes adjusting quickly enough to make out shapes.

“Lily...no.” Carson murmured, still asleep, his fingers clutching at the empty air.

None of the others, including the women on guard, took any note of him. Henrietta frowned as he called out the woman’s name again. The anguish in his voice tugged at her heart, and she scooted across the few feet that separated them.

Had it just been last night when he’d held her as nightmares plagued her sleep? He’d said it was to keep her quiet, but....

She allowed indecision to war inside her, but only for a moment. His cries had pulled her from another dream of Ezekial’s death. Perhaps she could give both of them some sort of comfort. Damning propriety to the depths of hell, she moved closer, laying her hand over his stomach, her head on his chest.

Strong arms wrapped around her, holding her close, and she listened as his racing heartbeat slowed and steadied. One of his hands reached up and caressed her hair. She tried not to think about the fact that he likely thought she was someone else. Instead, she closed her eyes and drifted off to the sound of his heart.

Their moment of rest didn’t last until morning. Only the barest change in the sky to the east signaled dawn’s approach when Catherine roused them. Carson’s arms flexed around Henri for a second, pinning her to his body, before he wakened fully and released her, his eyes wide with questions she couldn’t answer.

Instead, she turned to the warrior woman, whose hair was twisted and pinned up, revealing a half-circlet of tattoos on the back of her neck. “What is it? I thought we were moving at dawn.”

Catherine jerked her chin toward what had to be the trail. “Those are not our people. And there is more than only St. Clair.” She nodded toward Carson. “I fear the others you mentioned may already be here.”

Henrietta shuddered as she searched the area for a sign of whatever Catherine had seen. The man-machines her father had created. Here. It seemed so wrong for such a mechanical abomination to have made it this far into the Badlands. So against the nature that they embraced and cherished. She swallowed past her anger and fear. “Do you have any idea how many?”

“Ten. Twelve. Perhaps more. We have more than that with us.”

Maybe
,
but
unlike
some
of
them
,
our
people
can
die
.

Carson cleared his throat. “I’d recommend retreating to the fortress for reinforcements, but that would lead them straight to Queen Laurette.”

“Unacceptable, unless circumstances leave us no other choice.”

Rubbing the back of her neck, Henrietta glanced farther up the trail. “Carson, what do you think our chances are if we stand and fight?”

“Anyone but Gambini? I’d say fair. With him....” He shook his head. “If he’s part of the group, people are going to die here, and when I say people, I mean us. He’s one of the most modified of Lupo’s army and the most vicious, but the others have implants as well. Most are killable, but they’ll all be harder to take out than the average man. Finishing off Gambini will be near impossible.”

Closing her eyes, Henrietta thought of rocks and broken legs and pain. There was a way...

It’s
risky
to
be
sure
,
and
they
aren’t
going
to
like
it
.
But
it
just
might
work
. She gave a curt nod, reassuring herself that the idea was sound. “I have a plan.”

“What sort of plan?” Carson asked, his voice edged with concern as he twined his fingers with hers.

“The sort Ever and Spencer would call brilliant...and crazy.”

He opened his mouth to respond, but Catherine beat him to it. “Then it is likely perfect. I will alert the others.”

Once on their course, the warrior women proved resolute. But after an hour of slinking up the mountainside, Carson was still hissing in Henrietta’s ear, his voice panicked in a way she hadn’t heard before. “This is beyond reckless. Plus, you’re taking them closer to the fortress, which I thought we all agreed was a bad idea.”

She stepped around an old branch lying in her path, pointedly avoiding his gaze. If she let herself look at Carson, she’d curl against him for protection. No matter how frightened she was, she couldn’t do that. Not this time. God willing, after, but not yet.

“If you have a better course of action, I’d love to hear it. Besides, if they followed us this far, I’ve no doubt they would find the fortress with or without our help.”

His only response was the repeated clenching and unclenching of his fists. She took his hand in hers. The gesture brought her a tiny degree of comfort, but it also made her remember that this went deeper than one frantic plan on a mountainside.

“In fact, it might be wise for you to go ahead of us and warn Laurette. Get the fortress ready in case we fail. Have Spencer give Mahala the order to fly you and the evidence back to Philadelphia.” Though sending him away was the last thing she wanted, Henri refused to stand in the way of his duty. Or his safety. She’d already caused Ezekial’s death on these same mountains.

Carson pulled her to a stop. “I’m not going to leave you to be cut down by that monster.” Her heart warmed at the words until she saw the agony in his eyes. “I can’t.”

Suddenly, she recognized the reflection of herself in him. She’d thought them such opposites—he in his gruffness while she clung to the promise of society life. Now, in the face of possible death, their true selves shone through. Her desire to move Carson from immediate harm had less to do with his duty and aversion toward her plan, and a lot more to do with her feelings for him and her failure to save Zeke. And Lily, whoever she was, motivated Carson more than he’d likely admit to anyone.

No matter what fledgling emotions they might feel for each other, until this was finished, they’d never truly be able to examine any of it. If the situation wasn’t so dire, she might have laughed. Both of them so intent on protecting those they’d failed in their pasts, they couldn’t see those standing right next to them.

Mirror images of each other, yet so very, very different. For the first time, she truly understood Ever and Spencer.

“Then trust me, Carson. Just a little.”

Catherine’s voice called softly from a bit farther up the slope. “We are here.”

Henri waited for Carson to nod and let her go before trudging up the last few yards. She missed the pressure of his fingers, the solidity, the strength, but he wasn’t leaving and some part of that would stay with her to see the plan through.

This section of trail looked no different than any other to her. Then again, neither had the one where she’d triggered the rockslide. “Okay, show me what exactly we’re working with and help me figure out how our people are going to get out of here alive.”

* * *

Something wasn’t right.

Gambini called his people to a halt, his ocular focusing and refocusing on the path ahead. The gears in his hidden nasal implant turned as he inhaled and waited for the mechanism to register the scents.

“Capo?”

People. Several of them. Mostly women. Far larger numbers than they’d confronted up to this point.

He couldn’t resist a smile. A real battle at last. “They’re waiting for us. Tie the lawyer to something and let’s say hello.”

Moments later, Gambini rounded the corner, followed by his men. “I know you’re here. Shooting from the shadows is rather cowardly. The other women we’ve encountered from your fine land have died much more bravely than that, and they came at us only a few at a time. You outnumber us nearly two to one here.”

His only answer was the breeze that drifted through the trees and made the pine needles chatter against each other. Then a lone woman in a tattered corset and riding breeches stepped forward, her hands raised, long blond curls waving with the wind. “Mr. Gambini, is it? I’m not sure you recognize me, but my name is Henrietta Mason. I believe you’re the proud owner of some of my father’s work.”

He arched an eyebrow high, the motion tugging painfully on the skin around his ocular. “Indeed I am, Miss Mason.”

“It’s Dr. Mason, if you don’t mind.”

Haughty bitch. He’d make sure she knew her proper place when they were done here. “Of course,
Doctor
. I’m guessing you know why I’m here.”

“For my father’s research, which I’m more than happy to provide.”

His laughter echoed against the stone around them. “And that’s why all your friends are still in hiding.”

She shook her head, more hair falling free, as she lowered her hands. “They’re simply here to insure my safety. We know how formidable a threat you are and didn’t want to treat you lightly. If you’d prefer, they can reveal themselves before we proceed.”

“Yes. I’d
prefer
that.”

She waved, and warrior women stepped out one by one, weapons pointed across the open space between them. All the while, she stood there, calmly staring at him as though he meant nothing.

He couldn’t wait to use the potion on her. He wanted to hear her screams as he placed it drop by strategic drop on her body. “I’m not going to let you lead me at gunpoint to the research we need.”

Blinking, she tilted her head to the side and furrowed her brows. “Lead you? I think you misunderstand me, Mr. Gambini. I’ve brought the papers and mechanicals with me. I merely wanted to make sure I returned to my ship safely after the fact.”

He took three steps toward her, well aware his men followed. Then he stopped and focused on the people around her—all women. “I’m sorry, Dr. Mason, but I don’t have time for people who lie to me. Where is the man who’s with you?”

For the first time, she looked nervous, her eyes shifting from side to side in the tiniest of movements. Without his implant, he never would have seen it from this distance. A man with long blond hair and broad shoulders stepped from behind a tree. Gambini laughed, understanding her fear.

“Marshal. This is a bit of a surprise. Here to try again? I’m not sure I have the inclination to let you go with a warning slice this time. Tell me, do you still see the little bitch’s blood on your hands when you close your eyes at night?” He refocused on Mason’s daughter. “If he’s here, the research isn’t. As I said, I don’t have time for liars.”

With a twitch of his hands, his men opened fire. The marshal grabbed Mason’s daughter and yanked her behind a tree, but most of the warrior women stood strong, shooting at his men from behind rocks and other minimal shelter.

Bullets ricocheted off stone, thunked into tree trunks and occasionally met flesh, sending sprays of crimson to paint the air. Given time, most of his men would heal from a simple gunshot. Those who wouldn’t were replaceable. Metal impacted with his body, but Gambini barely felt the hits. He was more than human now, more than simple weapons could destroy.

None of them understood. Not his men, not even Mason’s daughter.

These fools couldn’t kill him, yet they kept trying.

Another of the warrior women fell, clutching a wound in her thigh with one hand as she continued firing with the other. She staggered backward and yelled past the pain that had to be consuming her, “Fall back.”

And now they thought he’d allow them to run?

While the Badlands warriors dragged their wounded—and even their dead—from the fight, he motioned his own men forward. True immortality waited for him atop the mountain, and no group of women playing with guns would stand in his way. He was so intent on the warriors he almost missed Mason’s daughter stepping from her cover. Would have missed her had she not spoken.

“Gambini.”

He turned without firing. She was the one woman here Lupo
might
have use for. Damaged. Not dead. The sole reason he hadn’t issued a more devastating attack.

A quiet smile spread across her lips, one that called to mind an expression he’d seen on his own face many times. One filled with malice.

“The key difference between me and my father is that he never learned the art of subterfuge.”

With that, she jerked two small brass pieces from the edge of her corset and flung them into the air. She dashed back the way she’d come, racing after the warrior women. Gambini followed the path of the projectiles, not bothering to duck as they buzzed by his head.
Insects
?
Does
she
truly
expect
me
to
be
distracted
by
her
shiny
toys
?

He sneered, moving forward once more, slowly so his men could join him. The warriors might have gained some distance, but they couldn’t hide from him. Time mattered little. The clockworks, a silly distraction, continued to dart around the clearing, bouncing from one obstacle to another. When he heard a metallic
ting
, he froze and glanced back toward the sound. His ocular implant twisted then twisted again, trying to focus while his aural clockworks registered a low rumble of unknown origin.

At last he could see clearly. A pair of flimsy wires bounced and danced—one from a tree off the path, the other along the ground. Wires that clearly should have been attached to each other.

Gambini whipped his head toward the sound he’d heard. Even the shouts from his men couldn’t drown it out. The falling rocks were too close for that. And far too close for him to run now. His men might live through many things, but only one person here was equipped with implants strong enough to survive a rockslide.

From here, he’d have to go alone.

Perhaps he shouldn’t have ignored the bitch’s toys after all. He holstered his gun and shoved his hand deep into his pocket, using the mechanics in his arm to lock his fingers in a protective shield around the vial of Mason’s potion.