A Tale of Two Airships (Take to the Skies Book 2) (24 page)

My muscles screamed, but I took the advantage where I could, grabbing for his leg before he retracted it. One sharp tug forward brought me close enough. I lunged in with my pointed elbow, nailing him right in the sensitive spot.

A choked gasp flew from his lips, and he crumbled to the ground. Men liked to swagger around and act all big and tough, but those built-in self-destruct triggers always proved a disadvantage. His face turned purple as he struggled to push himself off the ground. Pistol-whipping gypsy achieved his aim, and the length of rope wound its way around Jack’s wrists, even as he bucked and screamed.

Isabella fought toe to toe with her combatant, an equal amount of bruises blossoming along arms and legs. To my surprise, no one had drawn blood yet. The graze against my waist told a different story, but I wouldn’t alert anyone to weak spots. Before I raced over to help Jack, a pistol clicked—my new burly friend managed to scrape himself off the ground.

“You bitch,” he heaved the words. “Come along quietly.”

“Bite me,” I spat. I’d let my temper come out and play, and it didn’t want to return to its cage. Instead of aiming for me though, he swung the pistol to the right—to Isabella. My throat tightened. Playing with my own life was one thing, but he had a clear shot on one of my crew. I opened my mouth, ready to surrender, even though the words tasted bitter on my tongue.

However, then he squeezed the trigger.

Chapter Twenty Seven

A shout of warning passed my lips too late.

The bullet sliced through the sky following a trajectory for one of my closest friends.

Her scream pierced the air, and she staggered at once. My heart seized in my chest for one horrifying second that spanned a lifetime. I forgot how to breathe.

Until she surged up from the ground, a red stain spreading along her leg.

Relief as sharp and strong as an icy river barraged me. I let out a strangled gasp of a breath. The gypsy she’d been fighting made quick work of tying her up as I stood frozen, even while big and burly bound my wrists. He’d made his point quite clear. Our whole purpose was to get caught in the first place but not at the expense of Jack or Isabella. If they were bothering to tie them up, they wouldn’t be offing them, at least not yet.

Isabella’s gritted teeth were the one indicator of pain she gave as she forced herself to stand straight. I caught the tremors, natural after getting shot since it put your body into shock, but to her credit, the woman remained upright. Not like I expected anything less from one of my crew.

Big and burly’s breath puffed against the back of my neck as he slipped his hand to my hip, grabbing Matilda from my holster. I bit back the humiliation flushing through me at getting manhandled this way.

“Watch out, boy-o, I bite.” I bared my teeth. Defiance surged through my veins despite the fact we were heading right where we were supposed to go. At least our act seemed more authentic.

A chuckle came from his lips, deep and cocky, and the urge to burst through my bonds and run him through multiplied with the sound. “Don’t think you’ll be doing much of that behind bars. I’m letting the boss decide what to do with you.” The man towered over me, his blonde curls trailing down his back. Even though he wore at least a dozen knives on his person, obvious from the handles and slots for them on his vest, holster, and pants, he didn’t need them. The man burst with brawn, and based on his muscles and training alone, he could handle most situations. That sort of man was dangerous. But watching him, all self-assured like I was a meek victim, I couldn’t help myself.

“Maybe he’ll decide to get a crony who doesn’t have such fragile balls.” The words slipped out before I could help them. Me and my big mouth. His features darkened, and I hadn’t taken another step forward before his fist flew for my face. The world careened around me for one brief moment before everything shuddered to black.

***

My head throbbed something fierce upon wakeup, though I’d goaded him on the last one. A chill threaded through the air, and I blinked, trying to adjust my blurry eyesight. My back pressed against a cold stone wall, and even disoriented, I spotted the bars ahead of me. They’d come through on their promise of some cell space. The graze on my side pulsed, and based on the tenderness in my face, I’d gained some mighty fine bruises. I groaned, shifting forward as my sight returned.

Isabella propped herself against the far wall, a grimace on her face and one hand pressing at the bullet wound on her leg. They hadn’t offered any sort of care—those ‘bandages’ had come from the hem of her shirt, clear by the ragged demarcation. Jack sat hunched forward, staring at the floor as he traced patterns with his finger. Apparently I’d been the one person idiotic enough to get knocked out.

“Finally up, darling?” Isabella asked through her gritted teeth. “About time—we were placing bets you’d sleep through all the action.”

“How long was I out for?” I shook my head, trying to clear the rest of the bleariness from my brain.

“It’s after dark.” Jack met my gaze with a grim smile. Right outside of the bars, a blonde lady sat at a desk, ignoring us. We’d been kept in one of the few buildings scattered around the campground—that much was a given by the solidness of the surrounding walls, but where in relation we were to everything else posed a different question. Though from behind these bars, we could only wait.

I patted my empty holster. “The bastard took Matilda.” Without her by my side, a shiver ran down my spine followed by the exact sort of vulnerability I’d fought my whole life to avoid. We’d be fighting this battle with our backs to a wall armed with spitfire and fists alone.

Isabella shrugged. “He took all of our weapons. Standard protocol.” Sweat beaded her brow, matting several strands of her tan hair against her near caramel skin. The rip on the bottom of her shirt exposed her flat stomach, which tensed every time she pressed down on her wound to ensure she applied enough pressure.

“Probably made a phone call to his darling boss too.” I forced myself from the ground, even though my muscles screamed in protest. Once I began to pace, my stiff joints loosened with the movement, although my body ached something fierce. “This wasn’t our brightest plan. If our favorite ex-employer happens to be anywhere in the vicinity, he’s not going to come alone and unarmed.”

“Keep it down in there,” the blonde by the desk called over. Her utilitarian cargos and army stance as she walked over screamed mercenary. A scowl graced her face and threatened to press permanent wrinkles into her forehead. More mercenaries didn’t surprise me though, since I doubted Andreas trusted the gypsies to watch over prisoners. Those willing to betray their own didn’t inspire the best of trust. “The lot of you are one thread away from execution.”

“Thanks for the reminder, Nellie,” I drawled. “I never would’ve suspected the man who’s repeatedly tried to murder us would want us dead. Consider me shocked six ways until sailing day.”

Though we were supposed to wait for Scaara and her gypsy friends to sneak in and break us free, I didn’t like having an element out of my control. Those keys dangled at her hip, and if we could get her an inch or two closer, I could lunge for them. She could just as fast pull and fire her gun, so this wasn’t one of my best laid plans, but a girl had to try. I attempted a casual lean against the bars so as not to draw a ton of attention while we chatted. 

“I don’t know why Darren allowed you lot to live, but boss put him in charge here, so he’s got final say.” The words came out smidge bitter—Nellie here wasn’t thrilled about her tier on the totem pole. Big and burly must’ve been Darren, our man in charge. Also the man who’d earned one hell of a retribution for shooting my friend and punching me in the face. Couldn’t wait to pay him back.

“Nice to know he’s your keeper,” I goaded. Isabella tried to shoot me daggers, but I mouthed off for a reason. If our jailer lost her cool, she’d get sloppy—and I’d seize upon any mistake she made.

Her jaw made a click as it clenched, and her glare sliced into me like daggers. “Cute. Trying to get me riled up?”

“Only if it’s working.” I flashed a grin before returning to my back and forth pace around the cell.

“Not in the slightest. I love babysitting,” she muttered, stomping over to her slipshod desk. Jack stood and found a spot against the patchy cement wall to lean. My gaze kept traveling to the door. While I didn’t want to draw attention, I also wanted to be prepared the moment Scaara and the others burst through the door. If they did. Unease flipped my stomach more and more the longer we waited.

Isabella sat on the cold concrete, keeping her bandage compressed. She needed a better fix-up job, but we wouldn’t get one until we’d busted our way out of here. Of course the bastard had shot her bad leg too. Half of her grimace wasn’t the pain but the repercussions of another injury there. It had taken her so long to recover from the Morlock poison when those assholes first betrayed us.

My heart thudded in my ears at the same marching rate my boots cut across the floor with my constant pacing. An annoyed glance flickered from the guard I’d named Nellie every so often, but since we’d quieted she didn’t bother sauntering over to our end of the street. More’s the shame, as it limited my opportunities to snag her keys. The contraption keeping this prison shut was the standard drop lock most places utilized now—I’d need more than a bobby pin to break it.

The scrape of boots as someone made their way to the door snagged my attention. Whether those footsteps belonged to a certain gypsy or Darren would spell our fate. Our gambit could’ve fallen through, and if Andreas Othmann didn’t scoop our bait, they’d sentence us on the spot. Sweat pricked at my palms as I gripped the bars, anxious to see who approached. Jack didn’t move from his spot at the wall, but his gaze flickered to the door. Isabella moved one palm to the floor, ready to push herself up at a moment’s notice.

“Hey, babysitter,” I called, trying for a distraction right as the door opened.

Nellie’s gaze darted my way for a second.

Which was enough time for Scaara to fling the door open and shoot first.

The bullet buried in Nellie’s chest, and a gurgle came from her lips right as she slumped forward over the desk, blood spattering all across the papers. Relief flooded through my veins at the sight of our freedom’s arrival. My hand jumped to my holster on instinct before I realized it still lay empty. We’d have to snag ourselves some weaponry before joining in the fray. Scaara raced to the bars, near breathless upon approach. Concern lit her eyes.

“We evacuated the littles, and the loyal ones started fighting back.” Her gaze switched to me. “Your crew’s pulling their end as well, but we’ve got to figure out some sort of advantage to turn the tide. The Red Oaks were outfitted with more weapons than our tribe’s ever come by—if we don’t level the playing field somehow, we’re sunk.”

“As they would. Why don’t you snag us those keys so we can join in and help?” I asked, my skin crawling from being trapped here.

Scaara’s mouth opened, but the sound hit my ears too late.

Too late did I register the wet slice as something grazed the skin of my shoulder.

Drops of blood hit my face with a hot sizzle as Scaara collapsed to the floor. My throat constricted and eyes widened with horror at the smoking gun, barely held upright by Nellie. She had a loaded gun, and we were easy pickings. Numbness roared in my ears as I shoved away the repercussions of the scene before me and tried to shut out the strangled sob from Isabella’s throat. Slipping my hand through the bars, I tugged Scaara’s pistol from the holster at her hip.

Nellie’s eyes flickered my way, but with how fast she lost blood, her reaction times slowed. I turned the safety off and let my shot fly. The bullet traveled straight through her throat, studding with a stain against the wall. The first shot might not have killed on destination but this one did.

“Damn,” I spat, kicking against the bars to no avail. The drops of blood slithered down my face as a cruel reminder of the brave woman who lay dead at my feet. She hadn’t hesitated to defend her people in the face of insurmountable danger, and our world had become too fractured to lose honorable folks like her. Out there though, my crew fought, and right now we didn’t have time to mourn. Now we would burst some skulls and demand retribution for this travesty.

Our guard lay too far to reach—we’d never stretch past the bars for those keys, and with every second we weren’t out there in the fray, our men and women could be dying in droves.

“Fuck,” I swore, the word rasping from my throat. Trying to ignore the body lying on the other side of the bars and the growing pool of blood which reached my soles at this point, I fumbled with the lock. I’d broken into plenty of joints before, but normally when I pulled break-ins, I had my tools with me.

“Magnet—we need a magnet,” I mumbled out loud. Though I didn’t have one on my person, so I wasn’t sure how the hell we could pull this. Loping around our cell, I reached into the corners, trying to scavenge anything. All I pulled out was tufts of dust, gravel, and some misshapen blobs that might once have been tar. No dice.

Next I tried my pockets. With my effects taken, a lot of the odds-bobs I’d normally keep tight to me were removed. My fingers latched onto a cameo, but it wouldn’t help me right now. Jack picked up what I attempted and started rummaging through his own pockets.

Tears streaked down Isabella’s face as she crawled past me to reach through the bars for her long-time friend. Grief etched her face as she closed Scaara’s eyes in one gentle motion. The woman sucked in a deep breath. Upon exhale, she composed her face—placid steel—the most dangerous mode to meet her in. We didn’t roll over and accept loss when someone was ripped away from us. We hunted the bastards down and made them pay.

Isabella strained against the metal bars as she undid the latch of Scaara’s holster, pulling the piece off her body. She didn’t say a word, but her motions were so calculated and precise, the wheels were turning, even if she had to throw her focus into a minute task. After she dipped into the pocket, she snagged one of the knives in the holster and began slicing through the leather. From it, she palmed a metallic flat rectangle unmistakable for anything else—a magnet.

“She liked it for the quick draw,” Isabella mumbled as she pressed the piece into my hands.

I swallowed hard, hearing the defeat in the woman’s voice. My eyes flashed as heat filled my chest. “You
will
get your revenge.”

Returning my focus to the lock, I pushed the magnet right in front. This required concentration, which I fought to muster. My confidence had shattered, and anxiety rode me like a beast, begging me to get out there and fight alongside my crew. I sucked in a deep breath and pressed my fingertips to the front of the lock, tracing the latch.