Hearts Out of Time (11 page)

Tracy felt a cold settle in the pit of her stomach and the thick silence following his statement seemed to press down on her.

Mindless of them all, Cooper riveted his gaze on Garrett. “You set us up.”

“How can you even imply . . .?” Garrett’s voice trailed off.

Belly torn with unfairness, she picked up on Garrett’s indignation, his bitterness and anger at being unfairly incriminated. His honor had been placed in jeopardy, and he couldn’t bear the thought.

She couldn’t either, for that matter, an intense feeling of frustration swelling up in her. Although the gunslinger had a point, she despised Jake’s lack of style and the way he always picked on Garrett.

She eyed each of them in turn. “Whoever that person is, there’s no way it’s Garrett because all he had to do was extract information from me when I first landed here. We were alone in my father’s lab and I was the ideal prey. If that was his intent, he’d have gotten whatever he needed in a few minutes. Easy come, easy go. Yet, he didn’t.”

The hint of a smile quirked Weedon’s lips as he winked at her. “Right-oh.”

“You’ve known the man only a day,” Jake continued, unfazed. “Who are you to trust him? By all that I hold dear, I know I don’t.”

Who cared what he thought? Still, her exasperation leaked from her voice. “Well I do.”

Bad answer. She’d played right into the bad boy’s hands.

Jake smirked. “And why would that be?”

Chapter 11

“Because he, well, because . . .” Tracy stammered, running out of steam. She caught sight of Garrett’s eyes. He looked at her in an unusual way, almost with fondness while a sleazy sneer distorted the gunslinger’s handsome face.

“Because you got laid, my dear,” Jake said.

The company froze as Garrett sprang to his feet, harbinger of all-out war, to stand in Jake’s way. “That’s enough, Cooper. You will apologize to Miss Richardson now.”

“The hell I will.”

Both men faced each other, poised to strike with their words, features twisted, wrath burning in their eyes.

A low, deep growl issued from White Fur. The wolfdog didn’t even lift his head up but just lay on the floor, his rumble lasting long enough for everyone to get the drift of his temper.

Jessica eyed both opponents in turn, the fluttering of her pulse visible against the base of her throat. “Calm down, you two. This isn’t the time for dissent.”

Although the vampire huntress tried to defuse the situation, she didn’t appear to have been insulted. Neither had Weedon. Tracy knew they obviously didn’t feel the resentment currently running up and down her veins, heating her blood, and pushing her to get the last word on any topic pertaining to herself.

She got up slowly to look straight at the gunslinger, her belly writhing with cold anger and outrage. “I don’t need any apologies from you, Jake. You are the most obnoxious, despicable man I’ve ever met. I never imagined an American officer and secret agent could be a bad guy, and I can’t tell you how much you disappoint me.”

They all stared at her, bafflement spreading on their faces. So great was her disillusionment, she couldn’t have cared less. What? Besides British-Lordy-Garrett, shouldn’t they all be patriots?

She shook her head twice before walking to the door with dignity. Although flustered, she turned to Jake Cooper one last time. “You’re an officer of the United States of America, and you stand for justice and valor. You weren’t supposed to be that way. You cannot be that way.”

Nobody attempted to stop her as she exited the carriage. Cautious with her steps while the train sped on toward Gold Run, she went to the gun room-laboratory, opened a window, and gulped for air. She felt flushed and downhearted, struggling with too much emotion in a single day and night.

She wasn’t used to this kind of difficult life, being for the most part happy with an ordinary day at the gallery, a quiet evening painting in her workshop, and the occasional party. Not here though.

Here, it was all about blood, killing, treachery, fear, and despair. She had a galling sensation of loneliness, hacked off with them all. Yet she wasn’t a glum, dispirited person, but more of a bouncing-back girl.

She stayed in the room for a good half an hour, enjoying the wind in her hair, the sun on her face, the steady locomotion. When she felt reinvigorated and more or less peaceful, she figured it was about time to join the others.

Glancing at the cages above the door on her way out, she tapped the wire netting lightly and made throaty, cooing sounds at the four pigeons. Although she’d never seen the point in keeping animals in cages, these birds seemed content enough, maybe because they got regular exercise and a measure of freedom, given their job. Who bred and trained them? Certainly not Jake Cooper.

One bird squeaked, perched in an open cage, and watched her with big, round eyes. Carrier pigeons might not be as reliable as cell phones to carry information, but they were way more fun.

Back in the parlor, Tracy found her traveling companions brooding on their own thoughts and avoiding each other. At least nobody was gouging somebody else’s eyes out. Good for them.

The Drifter
slowed down.

Apart from Weedon, they all went to the windows, on the lookout for whatever was coming.

Tracy followed them, praying not to witness another attack from the Old West. “Shit, what is it now?”

A pistol already in her hand, Jessica craned her neck left and right over the men’s shoulders. “I’m not sure, Tracy. I don’t see anything.”

Neither did she, even though she stood on tiptoes. Just dust billowing around, the wheels squealing a little as they reduced speed.

When the train finally came to a halt, Jake backed away from the window. “It’s okay, ladies, I know this route. We’re at the Gold Run mines.”

At last, they’d arrived at the terminus. What for? Clearly not much because nothing could be spotted there apart from vast, empty plains on one side, trees growing up a hill on the other side, and the metallic tracks running between them.

No building, house, barn, shed, nothing. Not a soul in sight. Apprehension tightening her lungs, she flicked a shard of glass.

“Guys, this can’t be the right place. There’s nothing here.” Tracy strained her eyes, still hunting for any manmade structure, and was about to give up when Garrett pointed out the hills.

“I think it’s the right place. Look, the mines are over there.”

Where? She hadn’t noticed them in spite of her squinting but she sure did now. About a thousand feet away, the hills seemed to have mouths.

“Are we going into the mines?” Tracy asked. The mere thought of passing into oppressive, suffocating tunnels daunted her. She didn’t want to wind up trapped in there despite her concern regarding her dad.

Garrett nodded, his tone bland as he cast her a glance. “Don’t let that idea trouble you. I recall with perfect clarity William telling me his complex was situated by the mines, not inside. Although . . .” He trailed off, crinkling his brow.

A worried expression on her face, Jessica said, “Although we should be able to see it from here.”

Could a whole complex just vanish without a trace?

Weedon must have been wondering the same thing because he rubbed his chin while observing their surroundings. “Unless it’s on the other side of the hill.”

Garrett grabbed a weapon belt, flipped back the lapels of his coat, and fastened the band around his hips. “Improbable. Finalizing the complex took years. It’s William’s greatest achievement and he wouldn’t have wasted time working in an unsuitable location. I think we ought to inspect this place. We may find a clue. I was to visit the complex with William. Now I wish it had been sooner.”

The weapon belt gave him a gunslinger’s look. Tracy felt her insides vibrate as he grabbed a gun and holstered it.

Jake checked his Colt, refilled his gun belt, grabbed a rifle, and made for the door. At the threshold, he turned back to them. “Let’s have a look around before nightfall. I’ll go check on the horses in case we need them, then I’ll catch up with you. I don’t mean to sound discouraging but I don’t think we’ll find much around here.”

Seeing him act like the reliable and dedicated gunslinger he should have been was sort of painful. In spite of his roguish, attractive appearance, she wasn’t about to dismiss the insulting words he’d thrown at her.

Weedon got up from the couch, grimacing, his arm obviously hurting more than he acknowledged.

Jessica rolled her eyes and shook her head at him. “Shouldn’t you stay here?”

“No, old girl, I’m coming with you.” Weedon cocked an eyebrow when she didn’t reply but reloaded her weapons instead and tucked the knife she used on the unlucky cowboy into her ankle boot. Then he flashed his best Weedon smile. “You won’t get rid of me that easily.”

“I knew you’d say that,” Jessica said in a resigned voice.

“I bet you did.”

The vampire huntress grinned, revealing a depth to their friendship Tracy hadn’t noticed before.

“Miss Richardson,” Garrett said, interrupting her thoughts, “stay beside me at all times. We do not want you wandering off by yourself. There are no white knights in the area.”

His words dripped sarcasm but his eyes gleamed. Tracy couldn’t believe he was trying to tease her. Garrett making a joke, fancy that. Playing along, she answered like a rosy maiden, “As you wish, Mister Burnes.”

He half-grinned, and her heart forgot to beat. His rare expressions of pleasure touched her like a shaft of sunlight in the gloom, a window of freedom in a padded cell.

Not far from him, Jessica swung her last pistol into its holster. “All set. Let’s go.”

They got off
The Drifter
single file, all but Jake, who had decided to stay with the horses.

Weedon took cautious steps, keeping his wounded arm close to his chest.

Did they have painkillers in this time? Tracy wondered. Stretching her legs felt good after hours cooped up in the cars, however luxurious they might be. Happy to be out, White Fur bounced in circles around them. As Jake rightly surmised, sunset wasn’t far away.

They started walking toward the hill, the air cooling with the imminence of night, long shadows spreading their wings across the deserted landscape. This place had the exact right look for an alien invasion.

They were halfway to the mine’s entrance when she heard a low buzzing, similar to a quiet alarm being triggered. What the heck? Alert, Tracy sensed the invisible barrier as soon as she touched it, and froze.

Oh, Dad, what have you done?

Before she could assess the threat, she heard a whooshing sound, sustained by the silence of the vast plains. The hissing was followed by ground-level, clanking noises.

From where they stood near the foot of the hill, the ground suddenly seemed to fall apart. To her pounding heart, it wasn’t so much falling apart as cleaving.

Jessica seized Weedon’s good arm, turned tail, and pulled him along. “Run!”

The two of them fled.

Petrified as she watched the dry land in motion, Tracy nonetheless tried to make sense of the shifting and tilting. Man-size squares appeared to be lowering, as though cut out from the ground.

Beside her, hackles rising, White Fur began to growl when the delimited shapes came back up. Except that they weren’t squares, but trap doors with four-footed, canine forms atop them.

The whooshing sound ceased as soon as the trap doors locked into place.

White Fur’s guttural rumbles heightened into vicious snarls at the sight of the threatening, dark forms poised to jump.

Tracy held her breath, half expecting the whole freaking scene to freeze if she didn’t inhale.
I’m not alive.
She pretended as best she could, like a child playing dead to keep the monster from coming out of the closet. Unfortunately, this incredible show was real.

They were hounds from Hell.

Heavy, powerful, three-headed beasts securing the entrance. A dozen of them, the first line of four standing about a hundred feet from her. Much bigger than regular dogs and made of solid metal. Silent. Impervious to bullets or fangs. Lethal. Devoid of life. Unstoppable. Unkillable.

Her mind racing with panic, she still saw the irony of it. Mythology being another of her father’s interests, he must have used the
weird robotics
he found here to protect and defend his territory. He probably fixed those robots, metallic embodiments of Cerberus guarding the gates of Hades.

She might have marveled a long time at her dad’s juvenile, twisted mind, but the robots sprang to life. They leaped, predators rushing for their prey.

Garrett grabbed her wrist, his fingers digging into her skin. They bolted for their lives, dashing from a death they had no chance to escape. She ran, a torrent of blood pumping in her veins, holding on to his hand, already knowing there was no way they’d make it.

In spite of the urgency, she half-turned to make sure White Fur followed them. He didn’t. Gosh, what was he doing? Attempting a flanking attack similar to what he did in the wild?

Her movement threw her off-balance. She tripped, collapsed, her own weight also taking Garrett down. They crashed on the ground, falling on each other. She didn’t feel any physical pain but the helplessness she read in his eyes wrenched her guts. An end-of-the-journey look.

He knew they were doomed. As though fulfilling his last wish and following his heart at last, he cupped his hands round her face. “Don’t be scared.”

He spoke ever so gently. Then his lips were on hers, a final shield before ringing the curtain down.

She had no idea how long they stayed locked together. Garrett’s mouth on hers, their chests heaving from the hard run, their bodies tense from the hounds’ anticipated impact. Yet, no impact occurred.

“Come on, you two. No need for such public displays.”

Weedon’s voice came from very close by. And such a lively, hopeful voice it was.

When Garrett lifted his head to glance up behind them, Tracy watched his features abruptly display bewildered awe.

“Goodness gracious,” he said.

What? What astonished him so much?

As Jessica and Weedon helped her to regain her footing, she gasped at a sight out of this world, out of any world. As if caught in ice, the hellhounds appeared suspended.

Some of them looked gripped in the act of running, but most had been leaping, now frozen in mid-air, hanging by an unseen force that was definitely not gravity. Great, three-headed beasts turned to stone a few feet above the ground. Her eyes riveted to the bulky, black robots giving the impression of flying, the unbelievable vision quickened her pulse.

“By George!” Garrett exclaimed.

“Awesome.” Although still in shock, she wondered if this non-moving phase was going to last a while. Would the hellhounds remain suspended forever or would they jump on them without warning and rip them to pieces?

While Garrett stared, she glanced at the other two. “Who . . . What stopped them?”

Obviously ignoring the pain from his wound, Weedon did a little cowboy dance, kicking dust around. “I did. No, please, ladies and gentlemen, don’t thank me. Saving your skin is a real honor.”

“But how?” Tracy couldn’t believe their luck, or the man’s sudden enthusiasm as he concluded his private dance.