Badlands (6 page)

With all the yelling, cursing and dust, finding her was near impossible. He waded into the fray but whenever he thought he saw her, by the time he made his way to where she’d been, she was gone, leaving only groaning bodies in her wake.

A scream of fury sounded behind him, and he turned, bringing his arm up. The blow blocked Ever’s knife from reaching him.

She grinned. “Captain, how nice of you to join in.”

“I’m not joining,” he growled, twisting his arm around to grab her wrist. “I’m getting you out of here. Now.”

“No.” She tried to pull away but he didn’t loosen his grip, he just dragged her to the door. There, she braced her feet, and he felt the cold barrel of a pistol against his skin. “I said no.”

His muscles taut, Spencer took a deep breath before turning around. He kept his fingers firm around Ever’s wrist but stopped pulling. “That’s fine, but the
Dark Hawk
is taking off with or without you. So you need to choose what’s more important—your selfish little fight here or saving your country.”

Her eyes narrowed, Ever jerked from his grasp and stalked out the door.

Spencer followed a few steps behind. The muscles of her back were flexed so tight, he wondered how her bones didn’t snap beneath them. He hated telling her what to do, but she needed to understand she’d placed the entire crew at risk. And considering his financial situation, he couldn’t afford to just dump her here, nor did he particularly want to.

As soon as Ever was aboard, Spencer released the front ties on the
Dark Hawk
then nodded to Noah to release the back. He leaped through the opening of the loading bay and lowered the rope ladder for the repairman as the dirigible lifted into the air. One glance confirmed the hold was empty. Ever had already disappeared into the ship.

An exhausted sigh escaped his lips. He’d talk to her after they were in the air. Surely she’d understand that Andrew Houston was the last man she wanted on her bad side. The crazy fool was rumored to be running in Texas’s next presidential election. Spencer could only hope the governor would forget all about them after he slept off his drink.

As for Ever…

He’d never seen anyone move like she had in the initial moments of the brawl. Bar fights weren’t supposed to be beautiful, but in the heat of the fight, every move she made was filled with deadly grace. It was one of the most frightening and gorgeous displays he’d ever seen, and it made it all the harder not to think about what else she could do with that sort of strength and agility.

Chapter Six

Ever picked up the chair, ready to throw it across the tiny room. She froze with it overhead, then set it back on the floor and scooted it into place. Destroying her quarters would not fix the problem. Not the rage boiling in her veins over Spencer’s ultimatum. And not the turmoil she felt whenever she thought about him.

But there was one thing that would.

She needed a diversion, and she knew the perfect person to provide one. The door to her room eased open and she slid across the corridor. Spencer’s voice gave her a moment’s pause, but he was on the bridge. Good. What he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him, though she wondered for a brief second why she should care.

Her knuckles rapped on the door. From inside came a muffled, “S’open.”

With a smile on her face, Ever pushed the door ajar, walked in and swung it closed behind her.

“Look, Cap’n, if you’re here to—” Zeke sat up on his bed, his eyebrows rising when he saw Ever. “You ain’t the captain.”

“No, I am not.” Her gaze traveled around his room. The weapons strapped against the walls. Clothes hastily stuffed into corners. Not disciplined at all, but a soldier. A kindred spirit. She leaned against his door, arms crossed over her chest. “I have a proposition for you.”

“And what might that be? If it involves going behind Spencer’s back, count me out.” He shook his head and propped himself against the wall.

Ever took a languid step forward. “Not that sort of proposition.” She flicked a finger along the blade of a particularly large knife to her left. “I have certain…needs.”

The mattress creaked as Zeke leaned forward. “And you think I’m the one to fill them?”

Another step. “For today. Then tomorrow we will go about our business. I am not interested in anything beyond the moment.”

He stood and closed the distance separating them in one stride. “Good. ’Cause I ain’t looking for complications.” His fingers trailed along Ever’s arm and her muscles tensed. “You sure about this?”

He’d said exactly what she needed to hear, but still she hesitated, thinking of how different his touch was from Spencer’s—less fiery, less exciting. She squared her shoulders, certain she’d react to the feel of Zeke’s skin on hers soon enough. “Yes. I need this.” Her hands ran up his arms, savoring the feel of his muscles, before tangling in his blond hair. She pulled his head close and said, her voice husky, “Tonight, I want to feel ravaged. I want to forget everything else.”

A smile split his face. “I can do that.” He pulled her roughly against him and dipped his head. His lips crushed hers, beard scratching her face as his tongue forced its way into her mouth.

Ever fought to ignore the taste of stale beer in his mouth and lose herself in the kiss. When that failed, she pulled away from him, grabbed his shirt and tore it over his head, her nails scraping his back as her teeth sank into the wall of muscle that was his chest.

Zeke’s fingers coiled in her hair and yanked her head back. Before she could protest, his lips and teeth were on her neck, biting their way down to her shoulder. He pulled on the shirt, the ties in front spreading, giving him access to more.

But it wasn’t enough. She could still think, and she didn’t want to think anymore. For just one night Ever needed the rest of the world to disappear. Her hands released Zeke’s back and clawed at her belt until her weapons crashed to the floor. Her shirt whispered over her head and landed in a puddle of blue.

A feral growl escaped Zeke’s lips. He grabbed her by the waist and slammed her against the wall. Her legs instinctively wrapped around him as his mouth found her nipple. He sucked on the tip, making it pucker. She pressed his head against her chest, begging for more, even as he hardened against her.

His hips moved, shoving her more forcefully into the wall. The blade strapped there sliced through the skin on her back and Ever bit her lip to stifle a yelp of pain. But it was what she needed. The fire on her skin pushed all thoughts of anything but the moment from her mind. The pain and the pleasure were all that remained.

The next thing she knew, Zeke dropped her onto the bed, his hands fumbling with her pants. She brushed his fingers away and unfastened them herself, sliding them over her hips. As soon as they were off, Zeke was on top of her, his own pants around his ankles.

Ever could barely breathe with his weight pressing on her, but she didn’t care about that or anything else. Her hands found his neck, pulling him close as her lips pressed against his, tongue delving into his mouth as he thrust into her. Unable to move much, she tilted her hips up to meet his. She wanted him deep inside her. Wanted it rough. Painful even. She wanted this to quiet her thoughts for hours.

He thrust again. And again.

Then stopped. He collapsed on top of her, panting as if he’d just run for miles.

Ever blinked, waiting for him to move again. When he didn’t, she poked at his side. He rolled over and air rushed into her lungs. Just as everything she’d wanted to forget sped back to the front of her mind.

His sour breath brushed against her skin as he whispered, “Thank you. That was amazing.”

She turned from the odor, but she didn’t know what to say. All this time, she’d assumed if anyone could quiet her spirit, it was Zeke. But this…this was the best he could do? It wasn’t enough.

Spencer’s visage filled her mind again, and she squeezed her eyes shut.

“And we’re flying.” Spencer twisted in his seat, fighting the exhaustion that threatened to overtake him and trying to ignore the racket coming from Zeke’s room. He couldn’t imagine what the drunken fool was doing to himself this time.

“Cap, you need some rest. You let me sleep all night. It’s your turn.” Mahala checked their speed and adjusted the wings slightly before locking them into place.

“If you’re sure—”

“I can handle the old bird.” Mahala eased into the pilot’s seat. “Though there was something I needed to mention.”

“What’s that?”

“You had me go into town this morning and send the senator a telegram, which I did, no problem.” Her eyes shifted to the side. In a lot of people, the move was a sign they were about to lie, but Spencer knew in Mahala it just meant nerves. “There was another charge on the account. From today. Unsigned.”

His brows pulled together. “And the operator didn’t remember anyone?”

“No. Said he just came on duty.”

Spencer scrubbed his face with his hands, trying to figure out who might have done it and why they’d hide it. Ever? She was with him all day. “Okay, I’ll deal with it later.” He stepped toward the door, but his curiosity got the best of him. “They don’t keep copies of the outgoing messages, do they?”

“No, but I can tell you one thing, it was expensive. Which means it weren’t no miss-you-home-soon. Whatever got sent was long.”

That was all he needed, some unknown expense that cost more than anyone would own up to. He tamped down the irritation. “Thanks, Mahala. Wake me to relieve you.”

The noise from Zeke’s room had quieted a bit, but Henri stormed down the corridor, face contorted with anger. “Would you tell that—that animal to keep it down?”

“I’ll take care of it, Henri,” he said with an exhausted sigh.

“You better. I’m tired of him—”

“I said I’d take care of it.”

She narrowed her big blue eyes and glared at him before turning on her heel and stomping back to her room.

Henri was the last person Spencer wanted to deal with right now. Zeke was next on the list. He needed to straighten things out with Ever and then get to bed but, as captain, knocking on Zeke’s door was his job. When the only response was a muffled noise, he took it as assent and opened the door. “Zeke, you need to keep it quieter—”

In the dim glow of the gaslamps, he could just make out Ever standing, pants sliding over her bottom. As she fastened them, Zeke handed her the new blue shirt.

“Sorry, Cap’n, won’t happen again.”

All Spencer could do was stare.

With the shirt tugged down over her head and weapons belt in hand, Ever finally turned. She didn’t meet his gaze, but the flush of passion on her cheeks was unmistakable. She edged past Spencer into the corridor, and he tracked her movements.

Neither of them even tried to deny it.

She’s just a job.

Spencer swallowed hard. “See that it doesn’t.” He yanked the door shut and leaned his head against it.

Her voice made him jump. “It isn’t what you think.”

He didn’t try to fight the bitter laugh that fell from his mouth. “And what, pray tell, is it?” Though he didn’t want to, he forced himself to look at her—at the heat still coloring her face.

“It isn’t.” She turned to enter her room, and he spied blood seeping through the back of her shirt. She stumbled and caught herself against the wall, her weapons and boots tumbling to the floor.

“Damn it, Ever, you’re right. I certainly didn’t think it was this.” He supported her weight, almost carrying her down the corridor to the infirmary. Her protests were easy to ignore, quiet as they were. The cot sank under their combined weight. “Take the shirt off and lie down.”

She eased it over her head and Spencer winced at the sight. He tried not to think about how she’d gotten sliced straight across her back as he slammed through containers searching for Henri’s antiseptic and bandages.

“You know, if you keep up the reckless behavior, our medical supplies’ll run out and you’ll die because you couldn’t resist your idiotic idea of a good time.” He swiped antiseptic around the cut, and her muscles twitched under his fingers. The urge to touch her in a more tender way was almost unbearable. Instead, he took out a needle and thread and stitched up the cut. “Sit.”

Ever pushed herself up, and Spencer wrapped the bandage around her torso, carefully avoiding her breasts. He knew if he touched her once it would undo him. As soon as he secured the bandages, he moved to stand, but she spun and caught his fingers in hers.

“It was
not
what you think.” Her eyes pleaded with him, but he wasn’t sure what she expected.

Spencer freed his hand. “Your life is yours, Ever. As long as you’re not endangering my ship or my crew, it doesn’t matter what I think.” He was on his feet before she could touch him again. “Enjoy your evening but, if you can, do it without any more injuries.” He didn’t wait for a response.

Back in his quarters, he slumped onto the bed and kicked off his boots. She was with Zeke. He had to admit he should have seen it coming. They were very similar after all. At least he’d held back. It kept him from making a fool of himself by approaching her after the moment that first day in the corridor.

His shirt followed the boots. What did he expect? She’d
fallen
on him. It wasn’t as if she had grabbed him and kissed him intentionally.

Too bad his lips had never stopped burning.

Ever paced the infirmary. She would
not
chase after him. He’d made his position clear—he didn’t care. Didn’t care that he’d caught her with Zeke. Didn’t care about what she had to say. He. Did. Not. Care.

Besides, he had a woman waiting at home for him. The pretty blonde in the tintype.

Her hand balled up in a fist that found its way to the wall. It was her turn not to care. Not about the dent she left in the wood, or the way her knuckles throbbed. And she would not let herself care about Spencer Pierce either.

She pulled the blood-stained shirt back on, ignoring the way the stitches pulled, one more reminder of his touch. The corridor was empty and silent, her bare feet on the wooden floorboards the only noise. Ever breathed a sigh of relief as she passed the engines and their quiet droning accompanied her for a moment. Once past though, she was alone again.

Her weapons belt hung on her door when she reached it. While her fingers stretched toward the leather, her eyes drifted to the side. His quarters were only a few steps away. She could…

No.

Ever grabbed her belt and jerked the door open. After she kicked her boots inside and hung the belt over the chair, she threw herself on the bed. Tonight hadn’t solved anything; it had only made matters worse.

Henrietta had called her a whore that first night on the
Dark Hawk
and now she’d gone and made it look like the cultivated bitch was right all along.

Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

And the sex hadn’t even been worth the scar she’d have on her back, much less the pain she’d brought herself.

She shrieked, the mattress swallowing the noise. Searching for something to hold on to, she balled the blankets in her fists. Ever fought the emotions warring within her, but, in the end, they followed her into a fitful sleep.

Horns blared in a blackened sky as blood seeped from battle wounds all over her body, staining the ground around her. She fought her way through walls of people, searching for a way to end the pain. She had to get Laurette to safety. It was her duty, her promise to the queen. The wall of enemies collapsed before her and a chasm opened in the ground at her feet. As the earth crumbled away, the dust cleared from her vision.

Not one but two people—one to her right, the other far to her left—were held prisoner across the gaping hole. She knew with everything in her she could not make it across the chasm to save them both. Their faces flashed in her mind. The princess. The captain. Neither called nor begged for help, both standing stoic, certain she would make the right decision.

In the end, she made the only choice she could and leaped across the divide.

Ever woke with a start, her heart racing, a scream of dread in her throat. The gaslamps cast eerie shadows on the walls, painting the ship afire. The dream haunted her. She’d leaped without thinking, it was the only explanation. Her mother had taught her as a child that dreams bore messages, warnings sometimes.

That had to be it. Ever didn’t live her life randomly, she chose a course of action and saw it through. Since she’d been on this ship though, she’d fought against such decisiveness. If she kept it up, it would be her undoing. She would fail in her quest, and the Badlands would fall—all because she was too proud to feed this illogical hunger.