by V. J. Timlin
Nat pulled it over his head and tucked the hem into his trousers.
“How did you end up with those men?” Vari asked.
“I was coming out of the constabulary, when two guys stuck their guns between my ribs and kindly escorted me to their carriage.”
“How did they know you were there?” Anouk asked.
“They must keep an eye on the Constabulary HQ, and bounty hunters. Two of our colleagues were found dead this morning.”
“Yes, we heard about them.” Vari shook her head. “Very unfortunate. Then…” she paused and looked at Anouk, her eyebrows raised in a silent question.
Anouk took a deep breath, shuddering at the memory. “I saw Stalo just outside the constabulary.”
“What?” Nat’s jawline tightened.
Anouk started at his clipped tone. “He didn’t say or do anything. Just stared at me for a moment, bowed and left. It was… creepy.”
Nat slammed his fist on the table. “Another lost chance.”
Anouk jumped in her chair and shot an alarmed look at Vari.
Vari placed her hand on Nat’s shoulder. “Now, now, my son. Don’t worry, Stalo will make sure you get your chance soon enough.” Packing the bandages into a leather pouch, she continued, “Anouk handled your rescue operation very well. And she could have handled Stalo if he had tried anything untoward.”
Anouk wasn’t convinced. She had been paralysed with fear, but she wasn’t going to argue now when Nat’s face was twisted in anger.
Nat nodded, his expression softening some when he turned his eyes at Anouk. “Aye. You did handle it well.” He flashed a smile. “Partner.”
She forced a smile on her face.
“But Stalo’s in another class from those thugs. He almost got you just now.” Nat exhibited an edge to his tone.
Anouk met his eyes. Once again, his expression was closed. She frowned. What the hell? Was he now going to demand she stay with Vari and Fitzwil? Damn him, if he dared to say anything like that. She steeled herself for a forthcoming argument.
Chapter 12
Creaking floor boards woke Anouk. Cracking her eyelids, she observed Nat standing with his back to her, stuffing his bedding into a cabinet. The morning light streamed through his dark curls, giving him an angelic aura. Anouk couldn’t help smiling. He was alive and back with them… with her.
He had slept on the floor while Vari and Fitzwil slept outside. They explained it was easier to keep an eye on the camp that way. Anouk fully understood the need for such vigilance. So far Rondon hadn’t come across as a safe city. Anouk had offered to sleep on the floor so Nat could have the bed. After all, he was the one with bruises and cuts. However, he refused, claiming he preferred a harder surface. Maybe he did, or perhaps he was just being a gentleman.
The night before replayed in her mind. Anxious anticipation on the roof, finding Nat bound and beaten, the fight, the fire, dead bodies, and their narrow escape. She could still hear the high-pitched scream when she sliced through the man’s wrist. The logical side of her said the same as Nat, Fitzwil and Vari; she’d acted in self-defence but she wished the rescue had been less bloodied.
“Good morning, Anouk.” Nat regarded her with a smile. The purple swelling in the corner of his left eye and cheek, and the cut on his lip ruined her earlier impression of him. He looked more like what he was—a man who had taken a beating.
Anouk winced but then forced a smile back on her face. Nat wouldn’t want pity and neither would she if she were in his shoes.
“Morning.” Her mouth turned into a yawn.
She was surprised she had managed any sleep. After she had cleaned the blood from her katana, she was sure no sleep would come. But her remarkable ability to fall asleep—as Owen used to say—didn’t fail her even this time. Vari’s herbal tea, though, might have had something to do with it.
Nat sat on a chair and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. A solemn expression had replaced the smile. Anouk tensed. Last night, she had expected him to try to persuade her to give up the partnership and stay with Vari and Fitzwil. Setting up the camp had taken their priority, but the promise of talking things through the next morning was made. Still, she hadn’t expected it to happen as soon as she awoke. Irritation crept in and she sat up, ready to shoot down any arguments favouring her staying in the camp.
“I know what you’re going to say.” She fixed her eyes on Nat’s. “And I appreciate your concern, but I’m not staying behind. I know I have a lot to learn, but you have no other option but to teach me because I’m going wherever you go. That was and still is our deal. So, I’m sorry, Mr Walla, but I’m sticking with you like a leech.”
The corner of Nat’s mouth twisted upward. “I thought you might say that.”
Anouk scowled at him. “You’re not getting rid of me—no way, mister. We are partners. Vari and Fitzwil think so too, so I won’t tell them I’m quitting and neither will you, because I’m not backing off. If you leave on your own again, I’ll come after you.” She leaned forward, and said through gritted teeth, “Alone. And I’ll beat you worse than your so called new ex-friends.”
A smirk split Nat’s face, his eyes glinting.
Anouk gasped. “You were setting me up, weren’t you?”
Nat burst out laughing.
“You,” Anouk growled and threw her pillow at him. “That wasn’t fair.”
Nat chuckled and caught it mid-air. “Perhaps not. I was actually going to thank you for your good performance last night, but you brought up calling off the deal.” He lowered the pillow on his lap and crossed his hands on it. “Look, clearly you’re willing, and you’ve proved that you’re capable. I’m not going to ask you again if you want to quit. But the consequences are on you, Anouk. There is a very real chance you’ll die out there… as you saw it last night. I’m not trying to scare you, mind you. I’m just making sure you know the stakes.”
Anouk wrapped her arms around her knees and nodded. “I’ve begun to realise that, but I’ve made up my mind. I can’t sit idly and wait for you or someone else to sort out this Stalo issue. I’ve told you that already.”
Nat took the pillow back to Anouk. He bent, giving her a quick kiss on the cheek before she managed to dodge. “Good job, partner.” He straightened his back. “Breakfast is ready. Get dressed. We have work to do.”
Dumbfounded, Anouk watched Nat walk out of the door. Had he been testing her?
* * *
Anouk joined the others around the fire. “Good morning, everyone.”
“Good morning, Anouk,” Vari and Fitzwil said, as if from the same mouth. They looked at each other and smiled.
It had been too dark the night before, and she had been too shaken to register her whereabouts, but in the morning light, their camping spot looked far from an idyllic location for a morning picnic. Soot-covered brick buildings surrounded it on three sides and a lane ran by the fourth, making the area a secluded pocket. Heaps of scrap metal, wooden splinters and glass sherds littered the yard. A few patches of green grass defied the greyness and pollution, pushing through the debris and reaching for the sun that wasn’t there. Tall chimneys on the factories pumped dark fumes towards the morning sky like deep-sea vents.
“What is this place?”
“Rondon Industrial District—the port starts behind that building.” Fitzwil waved his hand towards the wall across the lane. “But we have to leave when we’ve finished breakfast. As soon as the guards spot us, they’ll be on us like angry wasps. They’re not particularly fond of people hanging around here and stealing their junk, as they see it.”
“Come sit here.” Nat patted the stool next to him.
Anouk sat, giving him a wary sideways glance. He seemed relaxed, more interested in his plate than testing her commitment.
The smell of bacon, eggs and brewing coffee teased her. Her stomach grumbled. Fitzwil handed her a plate and cutlery, and she proceeded to help herself to sizzling bacon and fried eggs.
“So did
you get to meet Stalo himself yesterday?” Fitzwil asked Nat.
Nat had reached to take another serving of bacon. His hand twitched and the slice on his fork dropped back into the frying pan. He stabbed it, his face tight. “No, I didn’t even know he was there until he tried to shoot Anouk and me just before we fled.”
“Taking no chances,” Vari muttered.
“Aye,” Nat grunted.
A shiver ran down Anouk’s spine. “Well, he’s been rather busy… for a wounded man. He’s been back just… what, two or three days? Where on earth did he get those men so quickly?”
“He hasn’t.” Nat winced when chewing on the bacon. “His lieutenants have. I didn’t see them, but I picked up as much from conversations around me.”
“Quite,” Anouk said. Ah yes, his former soldiers. An admirable loyalty. She was beginning to lose her appetite. “So… Did your ‘friends’ say anything other than they wanted both of us? Like why? Or where Stalo was hiding?”
Nat laughed. “That’d been great if they’d told me his hiding place. I did ask and got this.” He pointed to a red swelling on his right cheek. “But no, their orders were to capture you, and then contact Stalo’s men.”
“Well, how thoughtful of them.”
Anouk lowered her plate on her lap. She had now completely lost her appetite and didn’t take a second serving as originally planned. The reminder of Nat’s beating and how dangerous the situation had been made her stomach lurch. With what she had learned about Nat and Stalo’s mutual past, she could well believe Stalo was as determined to get rid of Nat as Nat was to send Stalo to the gallows—or a fate of equal magnitude. She now also understood what Stalo meant when he said her talking with Nat in the cemetery had signed her death warrant. At that very moment, she had unwittingly become Stalo’s sworn enemy—in his sick mind, that had been an act of betrayal.
She glanced at Nat. He knew it too, she was sure of it. Why had he told her the bare minimum, she could only guess. Yes, he wanted to protect her, and he felt responsible; he had said as much. Maybe he even blamed himself. She couldn’t bring herself to blame him, though. What had happened was done. And… he was rather nice. As were Vari and Fitzwil and Amanda. So in a way, Stalo had done something good, however unintentional—he had brought them together, but then again, he might kill them together.
“What were those explosions?” Nat’s question snapped Anouk back to present.
“Firebombs,” Fitzwil said. “A couple of them were thrown in through the front door. We shot the man who was going to throw two more through the back door.”
“Before the firebombs, two more men barged in, firing at us and their comrades. We took care of them,” Vari volunteered. “No one was supposed to come out alive, it seems.”
Nausea washed over Anouk and she leaned forward, bracing herself for possible disgorge—they were all meant to die, including the kidnappers. That was why Stalo had been there; to oversee exactly that happen.
Nat rested his hand on her back, looking at her, concerned. “Are you alright?”
“Yeah,” she whispered. “Give me a minute.”
“These are the stakes, Anouk. We’re not playing against gentlemen.” Nat began to rub her back with a light touch. His moving hand soothed and… warmed her. She bolted upright and shot a quick smile at Nat.
“I know. And thanks, I’m better now.”
Nat withdrew his hand and nodded, an unreadable expression on his face. Anouk tightened her grip on the plate. Damn, she hated that expression. Did he question the sanity of having her around? Again? She needed to divert the discussion before he brought it up again and got backing from his guardians.
She cleared her throat. “I wonder if they managed to protect the other buildings from the fire. The brigade, I mean.”
“It’s probably in this morning’s paper,” Vari said. “But I don’t think the damage spread too far. They were pretty quick to arrive at the scene.”
“If the fire destroyed some of the warehouses, I think the owners would be more happy than distraught. They’d get good money from an insurance company,” Fitzwil added with a cynical smile.
“Aye.” Vari chuckled and started to rise. “I’ll start packing.”
Fitzwil pushed himself up from his stool. “Yes, and I’ll check around for the guards after harnessing the horse.”
The old couple exchanged a quick kiss before Vari headed towards the caravan and Fitzwil towards the mare who was munching dry hay next to their home on wheels.
Anouk turned to face Nat. “So, did you find out anything else when you hung around with your new ‘buddies’?”
Nat gave her a wry smile. “No. They replied to my questions with a fist.”
Anouk frowned. “Judging by your face, you asked quite a lot of them.”
“Of course.”
Anouk hesitated for a moment before putting her hand on his arm. “Vari and Fitzwil told me what happened to your family.”
Nat stared down at the coffee between his hands, his face blank. A sting of guilt twisted Anouk’s gut. She shouldn’t have brought it up. Not yet, at least. He had gone through enough in the past twenty-four hours, so he might not want to revisit his past now. She raised her hand, but then paused. She wanted to give him a hug, but didn’t dare. He might not welcome it. Hastily, she pulled back her hand.
“Well, he wasn’t any different from most warlords,” he said, a sharp edge to his tone, then swigged the coffee down his throat. “From what I could deduce, the men were from The Pits, so we need to go back there.”
Anouk winced. The timing sucked, and a hug would have been a bad move. So it was all business for the time being. Fair enough. He seemed to accept her as a partner now. Good. She would try again later. His past was bound to be relevant, and she needed to know.
“Where is this The Pits place?”
“It’s that neighbourhood where Rose lives, and Dr Arnar has his illegal practice.”
“Oh. It’s actually quite an appropriate name for the place.”
Nat lifted his eyebrows.
“Sorry.” Anouk reddened. “I’m being too judgemental.”
Nat shrugged. “No, you’re right. The place is a dump.”
Fitzwil came back, jogging.
“We’ve got to leave now. Two guards are coming down the lane.” He turned to Vari who had appeared at the caravan door. “Guards.”
“Right.” Vari bobbed her head and scurried down the ladders.
She poured some water over the fire to suffocate the remaining weak flames. The hot coals sizzled as water hit them, sending a plume of smoke upwards. Meanwhile, Fitzwil had rushed to finish harnessing the horse to the caravan. Anouk and Nat helped Vari pack up the rest of the camp. There wasn’t much, but still they were heading to the street not quite as fast as they wished.
“Oi, there. Stop!” a guard bellowed when they turned into the lane.
Fitzwil steered the horse in the opposite direction and made a clucking noise. The mare jumped to a trot.
A shrill whistle pierced the air. Anouk peeked behind. The guards had darted after them. One fumbled at his waist for a revolver while the other blew his whistle again. Two more armed guards appeared in front of the caravan from behind the factory—they placed themselves in the middle of the street and pulled out their guns.
“So you think.” Fitzwil urged the horse to a greater speed.
The horse neighed. The men shot into the air as a warning. Fitzwil made clucking noises again, and the mare picked up her pace, eating the distance fast. The guards pointed their guns at them, but the fast-approaching caravan forced the men to jump aside.
“They might try to board,” Vari said.
Nat nodded, his face grim. “Anouk, take care of the guard if he tries to climb on.”
The moisture vanished from her mouth and her heart started pounding against her ribs. Now that Nat had accepted her as a full partner, if he said ‘stop that guard’, she had to do as requested, even if it meant she had to
kill the guard… or risk her life and Nat’s by not doing so. She gritted her teeth. Well, this was what she wanted, didn’t she?
The caravan swayed and she clenched the side rail, her knuckles white. Anouk wondered how she could prevent someone from boarding when she was in danger of falling off herself.
“How?” she asked. The guards, only a few yards away, were readying themselves to grab the reins of the horse, revolvers in their hands.
“Kick his face,” Nat called and fired twice, knocking off the hats from the guards’ heads. “And don’t get shot.”
“Right. Kick his face, don’t get shot,” Anouk muttered, licking her lips.
Abandoning the plan to stop the horse, the guards started to run beside the caravan. The man on Anouk’s side took hold of the side rail and made a move to pull himself up. As instructed, Anouk kicked him, aiming for his face. He saw it coming and dodged, and her foot hit the gun instead, knocking it out of his hand. The motion unbalanced her, and she fell on her back on the narrow front porch of the caravan. In the process, she lost her grip. The guard grabbed at her ankle and began to pull her off. Anouk rolled on her side, her hands scraping the sidewall, trying to find a hold as she was sliding.
A gun went off close by—the guard cried out in pain and let go of Anouk’s ankle. He landed on the street with a thud. For one horrifying moment, Anouk waited for the caravan to jolt, sending her after the guard and under the wheels. She squealed, flailing her hands faster in an attempt to find anything to grab. The jolt never came. More gunshots echoed from behind as Anouk’s feet brushed the ground before her hands found the railing. She clutched it in sheer terror. From midsection down, she hung over the footboard, lying on her stomach, her feet hitting the dirt road with every bump. Someone grabbed Anouk’s belt.
“Vari, help Anouk,” Fitzwil called.
He had moved the reins to his right hand. With his left, he kept Anouk from falling.
Vari knelt in front of her. “Give me your hand.”
Anouk let go of the rail with her left hand and Vari snatched it. Together they dragged her back on board.