Badlands (11 page)

On the bridge, he spread the map out and snapped, “Mahala, where are we? Have we got any definite landmarks?”

“Flat behind us, a river below, but I’d say that up there’s our best landmark.” She jerked her head at the window.

Spencer looked out. The Rocky Mountains rose in front of them. He marked their path on the map and looked at the river below through the scope. With a fairly good idea of their location, he turned back to the chart and calculated. Considering how light they were, they should make it.

“Cap, you look like a man plotting something crazy. Or stupid.”

His lips twitched. “Maybe both, Mahala, maybe both.”

“Are you mad? What do you mean ‘landing’?” Ever raced after him.

At least the announcement had brought her up from the gunboat. “The other ship outclasses us, Ever. They’ll shoot us down before we’re close enough to retaliate, even with your skills. If that happens, we all die. This at least gives us a fighting chance.”

“A fighting chance to what? Hide in the mountains until they hunt us down?”

“A fighting chance for you to take the princess and find some of your people while we distract them.”

She grabbed his arm and threw him against the wall so hard the gaslamps flickered. “I cannot ask you to sacrifice your crew. They have the right to know—”

“They know. They also know if we keep flying, they’re dead anyway. They’d rather go down fighting.” He reached up a hand and brushed back her hair. “You said I had to choose Laurette over you. This way, I can choose you both.”

Squeezing her eyes shut, Ever leaned against his hand. “We could all run.”

“If we didn’t scatter, they’d find us too easily, and alone, not many of us would survive. Hell, I wish I could send Zeke with you. He’s—”

“Not you.”

Her expression tore at his soul, and he knew it was the closest she could come to admitting she cared for him. “I’m the captain. This is my duty, just as yours is to protect the princess.”

She shoved him against the wall and pressed her lips against his, hot and desperate. He hungered for more but knew he couldn’t have it—it was too late. When she drew back, the warrior had returned.

It was time.

Chapter Eleven

The moon hung like a sliver of light in the sky as the
Dark Hawk
sank toward the mountaintop. Mahala and the men had the ship tethered in minutes. Spencer led Henrietta outside, her hands still bound.

“What are you going to do to me?”

“Offer you a choice. See that ship coming in?” Spencer pointed at the enormous dirigible. “Your father’s on it. You can wait here for him or come with us.”

She shook her head, blond hair tumbling free. “I won’t help you kill my father.”

“Fine, but you should know he plans to murder the rest of us. This is what your betrayal brought to your friends, Henri, death riding in on a white airship.” The glow of the gaslamps inside cast his face into stark relief as he shoved Henri back into the hold.

Ever memorized every contour, every line.

“Zeke, Noah, you’re manning the guns. Cut down as many as you can before they’re on us.” They’d torn the weapons from the ship and set them up on rocks. “Mahala, you and I cover the sides. Once the big guns are finished, we split up, draw them away.”

“Captain?” Noah said. “We all understand Laurette’s important, but since we’re going to die for her, don’t you think it’s time we knew—”

Laurette shrugged off Ever’s hand and stepped forward. “I am Princess Laurette, heir to Queen Lavinia of the Badlands.”

As the men gaped, Mahala shot a glance toward Ever, but she shook her head silently.

All too soon, the other dirigible sank to the ground, and the sound of approaching men rang in the clear night air.

Ever spared one last longing glance at Spencer, grabbed Laurette’s arm, and they ran. Every step tore at her, and when the gunfire started, she stumbled.

Laurette took hold of her arm. “You fool, if you love him, go back.”

“What?”

“It will take time, but even if we die, the Badlands will survive. The throne won’t stay empty long. There are far too many women there as stubborn as you for that to happen. Don’t give up this captain for some ideal you have.” She shoved Ever toward the fighting.

“But…How…”

A smile played at the corners of Laurette’s lips. “Because I know you, Everette. Go to him.”

“I cannot leave you.”

“Fine, then I will go to him, and you’ll have no choice but to follow.” Laurette charged toward the sound of fighting, her pistol drawn.

They raced back and found the others just as a bullet caught Mahala in the side, and another downed Noah. Ever’s heart pounded. These were people she’d come to call friends. They weren’t warriors. This shouldn’t be their fight. She tore her crossbow off her shoulder and awkwardly forced a bolt into the slot. Shot after shot took down enemies, but still they came. Her fingers fumbled, dropping the last bolt. She tossed the bow aside and jerked her gun free.

“Look out!” Spencer’s voice made her turn, even as a blade whistled past her face and thunked into the man towering behind her.

She smiled at Spencer then screamed as an arm snaked around and pressed a blade to his neck. There was no way to hit the soldier who held him, but she fired off a round, putting a bullet in the forehead of one who approached Mahala. Then the butt of a rifle smashed into her injured arm, and a meaty biceps cut off her air as flashes of light danced in her eyes from the pain.

A slow rhythmic clapping began, and Senator Mason crested the rise in front of them. “Well done. You managed to decimate my forces. Now, Captain, I’ll release you and your crew. All you have to do is hand over the princesses.”

“Princesses? There’s only the one, and she’s long gone.”

He was right about one thing. Ever hadn’t seen Laurette since she dove into the fray.

Mason glanced around, his eyes coming to rest on Ever. “Ah, it seems we already have one. Even more arrogant than you appeared in the portraits of the royal family.” He turned back to Spencer. “Hand over the other and the rest of you can live.”

Spencer caught Ever’s gaze, his own eyes wide. She held her head high, defiant.

“Fine then.” Mason motioned to one of his soldiers. The man dragged a struggling blood-covered Zeke forward. Mason raised a pistol and took aim.

“Daddy, no!” Henrietta raced from the ship. She stumbled, and the soldier reached out to steady her. Zeke leaped up and threw himself at Mason.

Too late, the senator fired into the tangle of bodies. When the smoke cleared, Henrietta lay on the ground, clutching her side as blood dribbled from between her fingers. The soldier tackled Zeke, forcing him onto the rocks.

Sparing his daughter a disappointed glance, Mason said, “Henrietta, my dear, you never did learn when to listen to your elders and stay out of the way. Regardless, I’m sure my people will manage to patch you up well enough when this is over. As for your friend…” He grabbed Zeke by the hair, pressed the pistol to his temple and fired.

Blood and brain matter exploded into the night, much of it splattering on a moaning Henrietta. She didn’t move to wipe it away, but when Zeke’s body fell, she crawled toward it, searching futilely for any sign of life.

Ever tore her eyes from the sight. She’d respected Zeke, cared for him even. She wanted to remember him laughing and fighting by her side, not like this. A painful lump formed in her throat, almost impossible to choke down.

“Now, as I said—” Mason drew back the pistol’s hammer, “—the other princess.”

“Why?” Ever screamed, no longer caring about containing her emotions.

Mason sniffed. “For the gold, of course. On the edge of your little kingdom is a treasure trove. It should belong to the United States and will once you and your sister are dead.”

How had he not seen it? They had the same delicate features, same lean bodies. And now it looked as if they’d share the same fate. His crew was dead or dying, and there was nothing he could do to help Ever, much less her sister.

A scream of fury rent the air. With his hands pulling against the soldier and his blade, Spencer tensed and caught Ever’s gaze, surprised as a small smile lit her face.

“I think you’ll find, Senator,” Ever said, “that this royal line is not so easily dispatched.”

A gunshot tore from the darkness and ripped through the soldier nearest the senator. The enemy fired back, but soon another shot came from a different direction, taking another soldier with it. Six shots, six soldiers down. It left two plus Mason.

With a scream, Ever smashed her head into the face of the one behind her. She rolled toward Spencer, driving her foot into the kneecap of the man holding him captive.

Taking advantage of the man’s pained shock, Spencer slipped from his grasp and drove the soldier’s own blade into his chest. Spencer’s hand came away bloody and without the knife.

“Enough of this.” Mason fired. The bullet blazed through Spencer’s stomach and threw him to the ground.

Ever grappled with the last soldier, desperate to keep him from Spencer.

A bullet burned against her cheek as it passed, and she twisted just as a second shot was fired. The soldier fell, Ever’s legs crushed beneath the weight of his body. She struggled to get up, to find a weapon. She’d heard the soldier’s neck snap. Mason was all that remained. If she could only finish him. Her left arm flopped against the ground, the brace jarred loose in the fighting.

Mason loomed over her, an evil smile on his lips as he pointed his gun into the darkness. “Come out, Your Highness.”

Ever’s eyes rolled up. Laurette stepped from the shadows, dropping her empty pistol, hands raised in surrender. Damned fool. She should have run and disappeared into the mountains. After all the help she’d given them shooting from the shadows, why was she giving up now? What good would that possibly do?

“Finally, one of you shows a little sense.”

“Of course, I’m sensible, Senator. Your pistol only holds six bullets. You’ve fired five. You can only kill one of us.” She stepped straight up to the man, pressing her chest against the barrel of the gun even as her feet kicked the dirt near Ever’s outstretched fingers.

As she fought the weight pinning her, Ever felt something there, just out of reach of her injured hand.

“And once you’re dead, I have time to find another weapon to finish your sister. The gold along the coast will be mine.”

“How many lives is it worth? Your men’s? Your daughter’s?”

Spencer
.

It didn’t matter how many died here, his was the only name on Ever’s mind. Her fingers reached out and clawed at the dirt. And found something else. Agony screamed through her as she clutched at their one shred of hope.

“The United States will be a world power with that gold. Sometimes people must die for the greater good.” The words dripped with venom.

“And sometimes,” Ever hissed, pulling herself from under the soldier, “people just need to die.” Laurette dove to the side. Ever rolled and jerked her legs from under the corpse as she swung the short arrow in an arc and buried it in Mason’s chest.

His eyes widened, his mouth gaping open even as his finger squeezed the trigger, his last bullet flying harmlessly into the air as he tumbled backward against the rocks.

Finally free, Ever crawled to Spencer’s side and wrapped her arms around his still form. None of the pain in her body hurt anywhere near what she felt looking at the gaping wound in his belly.

His fingers reached up, brushed her hair from her face and traced her phoenix tattoo. “We won, my crazy warrior woman. The Badlands will rise from the ashes.” A smile inched across his face then his hand fell away, all the strength gone from his body.

Ever buried her face against his shoulder and sobbed.

Epilogue

Six weeks later

Sunlight seeped through the porthole, stirring Ever from sleep. She sat up and watched the light play on the planes of Spencer’s face. Her fingers trailed along his skin, pausing for a moment at the red, puckered wound on his abdomen.

So many injuries, so much pain. Zeke’s death still weighed on her conscience, but at least Henrietta had managed to work through her pain from the graze in her side and tend to the rest of them. Still, one death was one too many, and while Henri’s healing skills may have convinced Spencer to allow her to retain her place on the ship, she hadn’t come close to earning anyone’s forgiveness or trust.

Spencer twitched beneath her hand, and she poised to tickle him awake when a sharp pain lanced through her wrist.

She forced her hand into a fist, pushing past the agony. It didn’t matter what Henrietta said, Ever
would
have full use of her left hand again. While surveillance duty on the
Dark Hawk
was pleasant enough, it wasn’t Ever’s calling.

As soon as word of Laurette’s crowning reached them, their people had come out of hiding and begun to rebuild the fortress. For now, the new queen was housed deeper in their borders, at the north end of the very mountain range where they’d made their stand. What remained of the border guards had been joined by men—former prisoners who had earned their freedom—and helped even now to hunt down their brethren. Ever argued against the plan from the beginning. The new queen had turned the Badlands into something different, something foreign. Laurette decided Ever needed time to heal and ordered her to patrol the air with the newly outfitted
Dark Hawk
in order to ensure their skies stayed clear of more invaders.

For the first time since childhood, Ever had regretted abdicating the throne to her sister.

Looking at Spencer, she bit her lip. If she were queen, she’d never be able to be with him. Still, she needed to be on the ground…at least some of the time.

He rolled toward her, and she lowered her hand, enduring the pain to stroke him awake. His eyes drifted open as he hardened beneath her palm. “Is that the proper way to wake your captain?” His voice was still husky with sleep, but the playful smile on his lips told her more than the words.

“No, sir. However, the proper method involved you staying asleep a few moments longer.” Ever had never expected to willingly follow a man, but on this ship, she knew titles were meaningless. Whatever she called him, she knew they were equals in his eyes.

He growled and rolled over, pinning her to the mattress. “Well,
Princess
, I think we better remedy the situation immediately.” His length pressed against her, and her muscles tightened inside as moisture made her slick and hot and ready.

“If that is what you think best.” She lowered her eyes for a second, playing coy, then lifted her head and nipped at his chest.

A throaty laugh rumbled through him. “Still feeling feisty, I see. I’d have thought the last two weeks on board would have bored that out of you.” He shifted his weight, his tip teasing her.

“It will take longer than a fortnight to make me sick of being with you.” She raised her hips, yearning to get closer, but he moved just out of reach. Ever growled.

Spencer lowered his head, his breath tickling her neck as he trailed kisses up her throat. “But there have been complaints from the rest of the crew. I’ve been told if you scream my name one more time, they’ll mutiny and I’ll be cast bodily from the ship.”

A slight turn of her head and Ever’s mouth was a breath away from his. “Then I suggest, Captain, you find a creative means of keeping me quiet.”

His lips curled into a smile an instant before he covered her mouth and thrust into her.

Ever clutched his back, her nails digging into his skin as he stroked inside her, her moans and screams lost in his mouth. Perhaps ground duty could wait a few more weeks.