Downrigger Drift (11 page)

The quartet scrambled to comply with Brend’s order,
and a sprightly tune filled the air. The brunette girl was the first to walk out onto the floor, coming up behind Jak and tapping him on the shoulder. The albino youth whirled, stilling his hands before they unleashed a flurry of blows. She held out her other hand, and Jak took it gingerly, his other one curling around her waist. When the next measure began, they danced along with it, tentative at first, but Jak kept his eyes on the other dancers, and quickly picked up the intricate moves, with only the occasional misstep.

Rubbing his chest, Jabe had scrambled to his feet, all his attention on Jak, so much so that he started in surprise at the large hand that fell upon his shoulder.

Ryan leaned in and kept his voice low. “A word of advice, son—don’t go looking for any more trouble tonight. You can go after that one all day long, and all you’ll end up doing is eating dirt every time—assuming he doesn’t grow tired of simply humiliating you.”

The teen shrugged off Ryan’s hand with a grunt. “Fuck you, outlander. Course you’d take the mutie’s side. You travel with him, so you don’t wanna see him get hurt.”

He started to walk after Jak again, but Ryan stopped him again, a bit more forcefully this time. “Actually, boy, it’s you I’m more concerned about at the moment.” He put his lips next to the kid’s ear. “Understand— I don’t give a shit if you keep breathing or take the last train to the coast the second I let you go. But your father has shown us nothing but hospitality from the moment we arrived in your ville, and I respect that. I’d sure hate to have any more trouble over this little…misunderstanding.”

With each word, Ryan’s grip on his shoulder had tightened, until his large, calloused fingers had clamped
down on the boy’s collarbone so hard Jabe’s clamped lips turned white with the pain. It was only with the greatest effort that he was able to remain standing. “Now the only thing I want to hear from you is a ‘yes, sir, I won’t cause any more trouble.’”

He pressed even harder on the kid’s shoulder, eliciting a whimper of pain. “Yes, sir…I won’t cause…no more trouble.”

Ryan let him go, and Jabe dodged away in such a hurry he almost collided with the nearest dancing couple, avoiding them only by throwing himself toward the outside of the square. Shaking his head, Ryan walked back around the table and sat next to Brend, who was nursing a small cup of mead. Ryan refilled his and clinked his glass against the other man’s.

“I ’pologize for m’boy, Ryan. He’s at that age where he thinks the world should lie down at his feet, and though I try to convince him otherwise, it seems to be a lesson hard learned.”

Ryan waved off his apology. “Boys can be trying at the best of times.”

“You have children of your own?”

Ryan sipped the fiery-sweet mead while checking behind him to see if Krysty was listening. When he saw she was talking to Mildred, he turned back to Brend. “One boy, about twelve years old now. He’s out west with his mother. I imagine pretty soon he’ll be as much of a hellraiser as your boy seems to be.”

Brend’s smile was rueful. “That’s exactly what I don’t want for ’im. We need to educate the next gen’ration of men and women here, so theys can maintain and build what we started. I’ve worked too hard to see it all go to waste.”

“Course not.” Ryan shifted in his seat, unsure of
where this was going. “You seem to be doing all right. Just keep a firm hand, and don’t let him get away with too much.”

Brend digested this and nodded. “Good advice, Ryan. Thanks.”

The rest of the evening passed uneventfully, except for a couple of glowering looks from Jabe at Jak, who was still hanging around the brunette. Ryan had realized the situation long ago, and when things started winding down, he gathered his people, thanked everyone for the good time, and retired back to the war wag. They were entreated to stay with families in the ville, but Ryan politely yet firmly turned down the offers, saying they were more than used to sleeping outside. The opposite was true—at least lately—but he had a feeling the evening wasn’t quite over yet, and wanted to be where he could prevent anything untoward from happening.

The summer night was cool and peaceful, the oppressive heat of the day dissipated under the lavender-white moon. Ryan and Krysty walked back hand-in-hand, each savoring the quiet evening—and each other’s company—in their own way.

“You see Jak come with us?”

Ryan glanced around. “Damn it, he was here when we left. He’s probably sneaking off to see that girl he was dancing with.”

“Could be trouble. Jabe could make things very uncomfortable if he gets more townspeople on his side.”

“I wouldn’t worry about that.” Ryan tried to hide his smile from her. “Jabe and I had a little talk after he nearly blew one of the townie’s head off.”

“So that’s what that was. I should have known.”

“Just didn’t want the kid getting himself killed over nothing, that’s all. Life is short enough as it is. Besides, if Jak gets into trouble with the locals, you damn sure bet he’ll be the one to come out of it in one piece.”

“Speaking of the devil.” Krysty nudged Ryan and nodded toward the war wag, where Jak leaned against one dusty wheel, hands in his jacket pockets, attempting to look nonchalant—and failing miserably.

“Where were you?” Ryan asked, his voice casual as he undid the main hatch.

“Walking with Delia.” While he had to look twice, Ryan could have sworn the albino youth was blushing in the moonlight. “Not do nothin’.”

“All right then, best get some sleep, we leave at dawn.” Ryan got out bedrolls and set up a rough camp, rigging two tarps as ground cover and a tent, then tossing their blankets on top. They were behind the wag, with J.B. and Mildred ensconced in a similar tent rig a few yards away, and Doc, already snoring stentoriously in the tent he shared with Jak. The burbling river was just a few yards away, its soft gurgle providing a gentle undercurrent to the peaceful scene.

Ryan stretched out beside Krysty, taking the rare opportunity to sleep in just his shirt and pants. Still a bit too awake to close his eyes just yet, he bedded down next to Krysty and slipped a hand around her, his fingers exploring until they found her full breast.

“Mmm, that’s nice, lover. Keep the slow hand for a while, will you?”

Ryan answered by leaning down over her and kissing her deeply, enjoying the unaccustomed luxury of not having to steal time for once, of being able to enjoy each other without having to look over their shoulders every
minute, or worry about who or what might be coming after them. He slipped his hand under her jumpsuit, feeling Krysty’s plump nipple stiffen into hardness between his fingers. Her breathing quickened as he delved further, drawing the zipper down until her chest was uncovered, her white skin gleaming in the moonlight.

Krysty, who hadn’t been idle either, stripped his shirt off, and the two of them roved over each other for a good, long time. When she was ready, Ryan took the lead, moving up her tantalizing body an inch at a time, enjoying the trip as much as he had when they had first made love. He sank into her and it was as if they were two halves coming together to make a whole being, perfectly aligned, perfectly synchronized. Her hips moved in unison with his for long minutes, until neither could wait anymore, and their shared, shuddering climax was released in a chorus of low, urgent gasps, capped off by their tight embrace.

Afterward, Krysty lay with her head on Ryan’s chest, listening to him breathe. “Perfect way to end a perfect day, lover.”

“Near enough to suit me. Almost seems too peaceful out here, like there’s a snake in the garden we haven’t seen yet.”

She lifted her head to stare at him with her emerald-green eyes. “For once I think we can take this at face value, and not have to worry about crazed villagers trying to kidnap one of us for sacrifice, or planning to force us to duel others—or each other—to the death for their twisted idea of entertainment. Just one time, I’d like to enjoy a day that doesn’t begin or end with someone dying, all right?”

“Fair enough.” Krysty moved off him and cuddled up under the blankets. Ryan curled a strong arm around her
waist, holding his lover close until her breathing slowed to the gentle cadence of sleep.

Of course, as Ryan knew all too well, the night wouldn’t be peaceful. There had been too much commotion already. He slipped into a light doze, able to gain enough rest from it while his subconscious remained alert for any disturbance.

T
HE FIRST SIGN
was so quiet Ryan almost missed it. His eye opened at the soft brush of light footsteps over the dewy grass. Lifting his head, the SIG-Sauer already filling his right hand, Ryan pushed back the tent flap to see a familiar shadow outside.

His bright-white hair tucked under the army cap he’d found, Jak stealthily crept past. Intent on his progress, he didn’t notice Ryan until the man cleared his throat. Jumping like he’d just been goosed by a stickie, Jak stood staring.

Jak had the grace to look somewhat abashed, although his guilty expression quickly turned to a frown as he leaned over. “S’posed be sleepin’,” the albino teen hissed.

“So are you.” The light dawned in Ryan’s head. After all, he’d done the same exact thing more than once when he was even younger than Jak. “Just be back by dawn. And you’re still taking your turn on the front blaster, too. I don’t care how tired you are tomorrow.”

Jak straightened, his dark expression turning to surprised relief at being let off with only a warning. “Thanks, Ryan.” Turning, the boy ghosted away so fast Ryan was almost convinced he’d dreamed the conversation.

I
T SEEMED LIKE
only minutes, but might have been hours, when Ryan’s eye opened again. This time the
noise that had tripped his internal alarm was louder, the soft clink of glass on ceramic, followed by a stifled giggle.

Uncurling from Krysty’s side, Ryan slipped out of the tent and pulled on his pants. A rustle of fabric made him turn to see J.B.’s head poking out of his tent, eyebrows lifted in a silent question.

Intruders, Ryan signed. Two to four, on other side of wag. You take front, I take back.

With a nod, J.B. slipped out, mini-Uzi in his hands as he stalked silently toward the war wag’s nose. Just as quietly, Ryan padded around the back, homing in on the hushed voices conferring on the far side of the vehicle. As he drew closer, he saw several shadows near the back tire of the wag, and heard the clink of metal, tools, most likely.

A cold fire ignited in Ryan’s gut. It was one thing to try to impress your folks by walking tall in front of visitors, but sabotaging a vehicle—potentially leaving their group to die in the middle of nowhere—was something else entirely.

He eased around the cold, metal corner to see a cluster of four boys fiddling with the wheel hub, which came up to their chests. One of them giggled, only to be hushed by the ringleader.

“Hush, ya stupe! Don’t wake ’em! Hurry up with those bolts. Let’s see how the old fucker likes it when he tries to leave and the goddamn wheel falls off.” The kid raised a jar of mead to his lips, not even bothering with a glass.

In one fluid motion, Ryan rose and stepped over to Jabe, pressing the cold circle of his blaster’s muzzle into the back of the boy’s neck. “I can tell you the ‘old fucker’ wouldn’t like that one bit.”

Caught in midswallow, Jabe choked in surprise, spraying the mouthful of booze over his companions, all of whom looked up in shock. The one working on the wheel staggered backward, staring at the black-haired demon that had materialized out of thin air next to his buddy. His face contorting with fear, he turned to run toward the front of the war wag, but had only taken a single step when he collapsed to the ground, out cold.

Ryan glanced over to see J.B. step out from the wag’s shadow, his mini-Uzi leveled to cover the other three boys. Jabe’s two cohorts had fallen to their knees, mouths opening and closing soundlessly, too terrified to talk. Ryan heard a strange, hissing sound and realized one of the boys had pissed his pants.

“Fireblast! You just don’t know when to quit, do you, boy? Come here.” Using the pressure of his blaster as a prod, Ryan separated him from the other two. “Turn around.”

Jabe complied, his eyes widening as the barrel of the SIG-Sauer, only inches from his face, filled his vision.

“Raise your hands.”

He did so, one of them still holding the empty mead bottle. His eyes flicked to it in surprise, and Ryan read his mind as easily as if the kid had tried what he was thinking. “Twitch that bottle at me, and I’ll take every broken shard and shove them so far up your ass you’ll shit glass for a month.”

The boy’s fingers slowly opened, and the bottle rolled out of his hand to land in the grass at his feet. Ryan wasn’t through, however.

“Open your mouth.”

Jabe blinked in confusion, his eyebrows knotting in puzzlement.

“Open—your—mouth.” He pressed the end of the
blaster into the kid’s teeth, forcing his jaw open, and inserting the barrel until it brushed the back of his throat. “Now, don’t move.”

The boy was as still as death itself. Reaching up with a thumb, Ryan cocked the hammer, the click ominously loud in the silence, broken only by the nervous breaths of Jabe and his two comrades.

“Answer me with your head only, and be careful, because my finger’s on the trigger. Answer too hard, your buddies’ll wear your brains. Ever been this close to death before?”

Jabe shook his head slightly, tears welling in his eyes.

“Ever been shot?”

Another shake.

“You taste the gun barrel in your mouth?”

A nod, the tears spilling down his cheeks winking silver in the moonlight.

“Taste good?”

Another head shake.

“What’s on your tongue right now is the second before a bullet carves through the back of your throat, right there—” Ryan pressed the barrel in until he hit the boy’s soft palate, making Jabe gag in terror “—and drills a tunnel through your brain before exploding out the back of your skull. Still with me?”

Another nod, accompanied by a now-familiar odor. Ryan glanced down to see Jabe’s pants darkening, as well.

“Good. Normally I don’t let folks in this situation walk free, which means the next thing for you would usually be a shallow grave. Hell, I’d probably just dump your body in the river and leave, letting your father wonder what might have happened to you for the rest
of his life, and his imagination would play worse tricks than I ever could. However, and this is the only reason I haven’t pulled the trigger, I happen to like and respect the man. So from this moment on, every time you feel the urge to disobey him, or back talk, or bully strangers that stop by to trade with your ville, you remember that it was only by your father’s good graces that you’re still alive to see the sun rise every day. You got that?”

A final nod. Jabe sobbed silently, his tears mingling with the snot dripping from his nose. Ryan withdrew his blaster from the boy’s mouth and cleaned the glistening barrel on his homespun sleeve. “There’s steel in you, boy, I can see it. Mebbe you should dig down and find it yourself, become the leader your father wants you to be, instead of throwing your weight around like a spoiled baron’s brat. Think about it. Now get the fuck out of here, and take your bully boys with you.”

Wiping his nose on his sleeve, Jabe motioned to his friends, who scrambled to their feet, one almost falling over in his haste to put some distance between themselves and the two stone-cold chillers. Ryan let them get a few yards away before calling out again. “Jabe.”

The teen twitched like he had been shot, then, shoulders hunched, slowly turned. His two friends, their already frayed nerves breaking, took off into the darkness. “Yes, sir?”

Ryan held up two fingers. “That’s twice now. There won’t be a third time. You understand?”

“Yes, sir.” Jabe stood there silently, waiting for something.

Ryan stared at him for a few seconds before realizing what the youth needed. He waved him off. “Get the hell out of here.”

Jabe whirled and shot off into the darkness like a
terrified rabbit. Ryan turned and walked over to J.B., who stood over the unconscious fourth member of the group. “Sure you didn’t kill him?”

The Armorer leaned down and swiped at the kid’s mouth with his finger. “Drool’s still warm, so he’ll be okay. Have a bastard headache when he comes to. Some friends he’s got, runnin’ off and leavin’ him here. What do you want to do?”

“Better drop him off somewhere away from us, otherwise we might get blamed for this when all we did was try to instill a little backbone in Brend’s boy.”

They picked up the limp body and hauled him away from the war wag. Finding an alley between two houses on the outskirts of town, they set him down against one of the walls. A wooden barrel of water sat nearby, and Ryan sniffed it to make sure it wasn’t stagnant, then scooped up a handful and dashed it in the kid’s face. After the second splash, he started coming around, and that was the signal for Ryan and J.B. to depart.

Ryan caught J.B. regarding him out of the corner of his eye as they headed back. “What?”

J.B. shook his head. “Nothing.”

“Think I was too hard on him?”

“Too hard? A few years ago you probably would have kneecapped the kid just for looking at you wrong. And to find him touching the war wag… Yeah, that Ryan most likely would have put him in the ground just to make sure he didn’t come after you later.”

“Fireblast, J.B., that kid isn’t a threat.”

“No shit? If you let me finish, I already knew that. Now what the hell was my point? Oh yeah, what I was saying is that you did the right thing, that’s all. Black dust, if he don’t take
that
lesson to heart, boy’s too stupe to live much longer.”