Her Sky Cowboy (32 page)

Axel fell in alongside her. “You sure you’re okay?”

“Spectacular.”

Amelia wasn’t sure how long she’d been in the lobby of the quaint chalet lodge. There’d been a bit of a language barrier. She didn’t speak Italian and the clerk’s English was broken. They’d finally settled on a reasonable price and she’d been escorted into the cramped office, where she’d sent off a brief but heartfelt Teletype to her mother.

While waiting for a reply, she sat in a chair by the fire. She imagined Ashford, envisioned each room of the house she’d grown up in. Imagined the sound of the bell announcing an incoming Teletype. Imagined her mother, anxious for news, waddling to the library and sliding over the polished floor in her haste to get to the communications device installed by Papa. Or perhaps Mother was away on an errand or a social call. Perhaps Eliza was reading the Teletype. She imagined the housekeeper rushing the note to her husband, Harry, and coaxing him to deliver it to Anne Darcy posthaste.

Crikey
.

Suddenly homesick on top of everything else, Amelia focused on her present surroundings. The chalet was cozy, the fire toasty. The cup of hot chocolate the clerk brought tasted divine and warmed her throat and stomach. Odd that she still felt chilled.

She hugged herself, tumbling deeper into her scrambled thoughts revolving around Tucker and Ida, Tucker and Lily, and the fact that he’d all but proposed marriage to Amelia. That Tucker would marry her to secure a fortune in order to return to another woman went against every noble notion she had of the man. There had to be more to the story. If this Lily had indeed been a major love interest in the Sky Cowboy’s life, why had Amelia never read about her in the romanticized dreadfuls? The more she tried to puzzle through the mystery, the more her head hurt.

“Signorina?”

Amelia jerked as someone touched her shoulder. Had she nodded off? Feeling hazy, she blinked up at the clerk, who handed her a note. She thanked the man, then squinted at the type.

Amelia’s throat tightened. Her mother had been worried? About her? In one short Teletype Anne Darcy had intimated notions that Amelia had longed for all her life: her mother’s approval and the knowledge that the woman truly cared about her husband. Plus she’d signed off using
the word
love
. Amelia hadn’t thought that word existed in her mother’s vocabulary. Maybe Jules was right: Maybe their mother ran deeper than Amelia gave her credit for. Maybe she’d been too blinded by Papa’s glorious charisma and glowing affection to see through Anne’s intrusive and manipulative veneer.

Another conundrum.

All Amelia knew for certain was that she was more determined than ever to make things right for the Darcys.

That meant getting back to the
Maverick
and on to Mount Ceceri. It meant striking a deal with Tucker.

Head throbbing, she tucked away the note, returned the mug to the clerk, and quietly thanked him for his help. He said something in return, only the words didn’t register. Feeling ill, she simply smiled and made her way back onto the pebbled street. She shivered whilst pulling on her gloves. The sun was shining, the temperature milder than when they’d been flying high, but her coat felt damp and the wind cut through her bones.

Amelia stamped her feet, two blocks of ice that refused to warm. She looked left and right, eyed a few pedestrians and one scraggly cat. Gressoney-La-Trinité was relatively small. Definitely quiet. Since Axel wasn’t waiting, she wandered to the shop he’d pointed out earlier. She didn’t see him in there either. Again, the clerk spoke broken English, but she ascertained that Axel had indeed purchased a bicycle. Maybe she’d misunderstood him. Maybe she was supposed to meet him at the dinghy.

Feeling as though something were off, she kept her head down and hastened toward the patch where they’d landed. That was when she saw a monster of a man utilizing a vicious stranglehold on Axel. She couldn’t believe someone had gotten the better of the burly engineer. Then she noticed the bright red bone-shaker bicycle lying on its side, front wheel spinning. He must’ve been pushing it toward the dinghy when the scraggly-haired brute
jumped him from behind. She saw no weapons, even though Axel carried many. Had his stun cuff malfunctioned?

Stun.

Amelia dipped into her coat pocket and palmed Papa’s stun gun. She’d never shot a man. Then again, maybe she wouldn’t have to. Adrenaline pumping, she steadied the gun with both hands and aimed at the man dressed in an odd combination of leather armor and animal pelts. She advanced, knees quaking. “Release him. Now!”

Monster Man spared her a look and her breath caught at the menacing sight. Pocked skin and a fleshy nose. A brass magnifying loupe was strapped over one eye, while the other red-rimmed eye drooped, reminding her of a hound dog. He paid her no mind, as if she were no more of a threat than a bothersome gnat. Instead he tightened his hold on Axel. That was when she caught a glimpse of hinges, screws, and metal. Was the brute’s arm made of steel? And, good Lord, it wasn’t a hand exactly, but more like a vise-claw!

“Get. Out. Of.
Heeeere
.” Axel choked and wheezed, and though he clutched at the man’s arms and bucked like a wild horse, he could not break free.

She willed her hands not to tremble, her courage not to waver as she took another step forward. Sweat beaded her upper lip. “I’ll shoot!”

Axel’s face turned purple; his legs wobbled.

Amelia aimed for the biggest target. She couldn’t bring herself to shoot a man—any man—in the back, so she lowered her aim and pulled the trigger. A bolt of electricity surged and zapped Monster Man in the backside.

His arms flailed as he roared in pain.

Axel keeled over face-first, while Monster Man dropped to his knees, arse smoking.

Amelia nearly sagged with relief. Papa’s gun had worked! Just enough to jar the man. Just enough for Axel to break free.

“Damned…Dogface.” Gasping for air, Axel pushed
to his knees and reached under his coat for his Blaster, only Monster Man/Dogface recovered more quickly. He pounced and suddenly they were rolling in the snow, throwing punches. Weakened from lack of air, within seconds Axel was once again pinned under that steel claw. “Shoot. Him.”

She tried, but this time the gun jammed. Once. Twice. She threw it at the monster’s head. It hit with a clang and bounced off. Was his skull metal too?

“Hit. Him.”

She looked for a rock, then remembered the retracting cane. She pulled it from her pocket, thumbed the button—
snick, snick, snick
—and swung with all her might, cracking the brass rod hard across the attacker’s shoulders.

He whirled and grabbed the cane with his good hand, shoving it away with a force that sent her flying.

Axel made some sickly sound and, though bleary-eyed, Amelia scrambled to her feet. She remembered Doc’s advice regarding the use of the cane as a weapon.
Conk
and
stab
. Fearing Axel was moments from death, she burst forward, the skinny tip poised, and plunged.

Another roar and a whirl. He reached back and pulled the rod from his side, then turned on Amelia, eyes blazing.

“Run,” Axel choked out.

She could not. She’d frozen in fear. She’d shot, conked, and stabbed Monster Man/Dogface and now he was going to kill her. He lumbered forward, his hinged claw snapping like a grotesque lobster as he reached for her. She couldn’t breathe and he’d yet to touch her. She heard a whoosh, then thunderous hooves, saw Axel struggling for his Blaster, heard a shot, then—God in heaven—saw blood spurting and gushing from the man’s head. Droopy eyes wide, he faltered and reeled.

So much blood.

The edges of Amelia’s vision blurred and her knees gave way just as Tucker vaulted off Peg’s back and scooped her into his arms.

“What’s wrong with her, Doc?”

“Concussion maybe. She’s got a large bump on the back of her head.”

“According to Ax’s account,” Tuck said, “she could’ve gotten that when she was thrown from the dinghy or knocked flat by Dogface Flannigan.” He’d witnessed the latter through his spyglass as he swooped down from the sky. It had sickened him, and filled him with murderous rage.

“Plus she has a fever. Maybe she caught a chill.”

“Her clothes are damp.”

“Get her out of them. Keep her warm. Even if she complains about being hot.”

Tuck unwrapped her scarves and unlaced her boots. After making sure Axel could manage the dinghy on his own, he’d lifted an unconscious Amelia onto Peg and flown her back to the
Maverick
. Eli had taken Peg in hand, and Tuck had carried Amelia to his cabin. Lying in the middle of his big bed, she’d never looked so small or fragile.

Doc hovered, looking nearly as anxious as Axel when he’d confessed he’d been caught unaware.
She saved my life
, Axel had said. If he said it once, he said it five times.

“Also,” Doc said, “I wouldn’t rule out shock. Between the tussle and you shootin’ Dogface dead in front of her…that’s a lot to handle.”

Tuck palmed her feverish brow. “Make her better. Now.”

“I don’t want to use my gift until I’m sure and certain of all her ailments, Marshal. Accelerated healing drains me.
You know that. How severe is the concussion? Did she sustain a neck injury as well? Any internal bleeding? I don’t want to waste immediate energy, only to miss something important.”

“What can I do?”

“Like I said, keep her warm. Try to rouse her. Get her talking and keep her talking. Call for me when she’s alert or if she takes a bad turn.”

“Thanks, Doc.” Tuck peeled off her duster, expecting the younger man to take his leave.

“Maybe we should turn back.”

“What?”

“We’ve had nothing but misfortune since taking on Miss Darcy and her expedition.”

“You falling in with Axel, Doc? Thinking Miss Darcy’s bad luck?”

“No. No, of course not. But what if the treasure she seeks is to blame? What if it’s cursed? Bad for her. Bad for us.”

“It’s not cursed.”

“You know what the treasure is?”

Tuck paused in the middle of finessing Amelia out of a waistcoat. The layers were endless. “An invention of historical significance.” He’d never known Doc to be so intrusive. It felt wrong. Bad.

“Something to do with a time machine?”

“Why would you ask, Doc?”

The man jammed his fingers through his spiky white hair. “We touched on the theory. When you were going through her things. Right after Captain Dunkirk kidnapped her. Remember?”

“I remember.”

“Just saying…Just wondering…what we are getting into.”

“Nothing we can’t handle.”

The frazzled man nabbed his medical bag. “I should see to Axel. Shout when there’s a change.”

Tuck spared Doc a look as he blew out of the cabin.
What’s goin’ on with you, kid?
Amelia moaned and all his thoughts turned to her. “Wake up, honey.” He continued to strip off her clothes. Her chemise was bone-dry, so he stopped there and pulled the covers to her chin. “Amelia.”

Her eyes fluttered open.

Thank you, Jesus.

She looked at him through glazed blue eyes. “What would you do for love?” she asked in a dreamy voice.

His heart lodged in his throat. “Just about anything, I expect.” He’d sure as hell killed Dogface without regret.

She traced her fingers along his jaw, quirked a sad smile. “Me too. Thirty percent.”

“What?”

“Our deal. Help me deliver the ornithopter. If we win the prize…Thirty percent to you. That should…should be enough to buy Lily.”

The mention of his sister caught him off guard. “How do you know about Lily?”

“Axel told me. You love her. You don’t have to marry me to be with her. I don’t…don’t want to share you, so…Good-bye.” Her fingers fell away. Her lashes fluttered closed.

“Amelia.”

Someone knocked.

Tuck checked her breathing. Deep. Steady. She’d fallen back under.
Dammit
. He swung off the bed and opened the door.

Axel loomed on the threshold looking like he’d been to hell and back. Bruised and bloodied face, scratched and discolored neck. “Why aren’t you with Doc?”

“Told him I’d be back. I needed to see…” He peeked around Tuck’s shoulder. “Doc said she’ll be okay, but I needed to see for myself. She still out?”

Tuck moved partially into the hall and lowered his voice. “She woke long enough to mumble something about me
loving Lily and her not wanting to stand in the way. Offered me a boodle of money, then said good-bye. She wasn’t entirely coherent. What the hell did you tell her, Ax?”

The big man frowned. “Just that…Oh, hell. Don’t think I mentioned Lily’s your sister.”

Tuck listened as Axel recounted the discussion he’d had with Amelia. He could only imagine what was going through her mind due to his engineer’s fragmented story. Not that it had been his place to relate Tuck’s business in the first place. “Anyone ever tell you that you talk too much?”

“I shouldn’t have taken her to the village. I thought…in and out. What were the chances Dogface Flannigan would be lyin’ low in northern Italy? Damn slim to total zero, right?”

“Did he tell you he’d been hiding out? Maybe he’d been trackin’ us all along. Revenge against us for turning him in to Scotland Yard. Or, hell, maybe he got wind of Amelia and her treasure. Maybe, like Dunkirk, he wanted it for himself. Saw his chance to kidnap her when you two took off on your own.”