“You don’t know that,” Duster said, but he sounded less sure.
“I can smell it. Not literally, but I know the truth.” Desperate to convince Duster, he added, “Emmet has gone out of his way to hurt Mary her whole life. She just didn’t know. And I’ll bet he’s filling her in on the situation now. Laughing at her. Jeering at her. Like everyone else in Pine Glenn.”
“You tricked her too,” Duster reminded him. “She thinks we ganged up to play a nasty trick on her when we didn’t. Or at least I didn’t.”
“Granted.” His soft admission startled Duster. “My motives may have been more pure, but the outcome was the same. I tricked her. Just like everyone else in her whole life.” Michael couldn’t feel more ashamed if he tried.
“What in the Void makes you think she won’t turn on you?”
“The crux of the matter.” Michael took a deep breath and found he could still smell the compelling essence of Mary embedded into his skin. “I don’t think she will. But I could be wrong.” As he went to the shuttle bay, he said, “If I am, you know what to do.”
After a night of exhausted sleep in a reeking bunk, Mary spent Friday behind bars. Occasionally, someone would come in to conduct business, and Emmet, his head hung with shame, would say, “Mary’s in a bit of trouble.”
He’d leave it up to the villager to decide just what that trouble might be. Glances from pity to glee flashed her way. Some glances turned downright glaring when Emmet intimated that his black eye and busted lip were her fault.
Unable to stand anymore by late afternoon, she crawled into one of the smelly bunks, propped her leg up, pulled the threadbare blanket over her head and went to sleep.
Around about eleven on Friday night, she jerked awake.
Payday.
“He lost fair and square.” A drunken male voice slurred the words into a jumble. A huge, rippling burp followed, echoing in the darkened courthouse.
“You got caught with a card up your sleeve,” Howie Duhon, one of the deputies, said. Keys jingled.
Oh, great, company. She hoped her cellmate would be too drunk to notice her. Lord knew he couldn’t smell her with that stench of whisky and beer on him. Christ! He smelled so plowed he likely couldn’t see her, especially since the deputies didn’t turn on the lights. Only pale moonlight filtered through the dirty front windows.
She peered over the edge of her thin blanket. Howie and Owen Duhon, the two brothers who were Emmet’s deputies, escorted a big drunken man to the cell door. Howie opened it, Owen shoved him in, and then Howie slammed the iron door closed with an angry clang. “You sober up a bit, pal.”
Without a word, they left through the front door. She heard their boots clomp down the three front steps as they laughed and turned up-street, toward the tavern.
She clenched her hands to fists. The Duhon brothers knew she was in here yet didn’t seem to care if the drunk attacked her. Emmet probably told them to fill the cage with criminals, because if she defended herself with forbidden arts, Emmet would have a valid reason to imprison her. Not that anyone was concerned enough about her to question why Emmet locked her up.
Watching the drunk carefully, she lay still so as not to attract his attention. The upper bunk gave her a deep shadow to hide in, and she took advantage of the black hollow by pressing herself to the back wall. Cold cinder block seeped a chill into her sleep-warm body.
Giganto-drunk shook the bars, yelled again how everything was fair and square, then stumbled toward the bunk where she hid. She bit her lip to keep from screaming. If he dumped his massive body to the bed, he’d crush her. To her relief, he slumped to the edge and looked around the cell.
“Mary?”
Her eyes went wide when she recognized him. “Michael?”
Leaning over to yank at his boots, he whispered, “Don’t say anything. Pretend to be asleep.” He groaned loudly, then burped a real ripper. A solid ten.
She shoved her hand in her face to stifle a crazy giggle. Breathless, she whispered, “Oh-my-God.”
“Be quiet.” His urgent tone sobered her instantly.
“I told Emmet everything. He wants to turn you in. You have to get out of here.” Panic filled her. As much as she’d longed for him to come, he would die if he stayed.
“For once, don’t say anything.” He didn’t sound the least bit drunk even though he reeked of whisky and beer.
For a nanosecond, she obeyed, then whispered, “Emmet wants the 20Mil reward and—”
“I know,” Michael said through clenched teeth. He flopped back on the bed, crashed his head into her legs and groaned when he hit her cast. “Be quiet.”
For once, she listened to him.
He sat up. “Sorry, fella.” He belched another ripper. “Didn’t know this one was taken.” He stood, swayed and stumbled over to the bunk that made an L to her bunk. He flopped down with his head close to hers. “Are there cameras or coms in here?” Surreptitiously, he looked around the room.
“No.”
“Good. Where’s Emmet?” Now he sounded all business, calm and completely in control.
“Most likely he’s passed out in his bed.” She wrinkled her nose, trying to filter out the odor of whisky and beer with the blanket that reeked of sweat and urine. She gave up since she was unable to decide which was worse.
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah-huh, I’m real sure.” Even in the dark, she could see him frown at the country-simple tone of her voice, so she dropped it. “Emmet comes in occasionally to yell and throw things at me. The last time, he almost fell over.” She knew the rhythm of his drinking well.
“And those two deputies?” Michael shifted on the rickety bunk, turning on his side so she could hear him better.
“Unless there’s another drunk, Howie and Owen won’t be back until morning.”
“Are you okay?” He not only sounded concerned, but he looked it, and the chink in her thousand-foot walls widened.
“I’m fine. Now go.” Why in the Void had he allowed himself to be incarcerated? Whatever game he played, he seemed close to losing.
“I’m not leaving without you.” He rolled his head until he caught her gaze.
For a moment, she let herself dream that he’d come to save her because he wanted to prove the love he’d declared. She shook the fanciful thought away by turning her mind to practical matters. “These old bars are solid. If you’re thinking about busting us out of here with some kind of kung fu, you’re fooling yourself. Duster better show up with the key real quick.”
“Don’t worry, these old bars are nothing.” He flashed her a perfect smile that made her knees weak.
“You’re packing a laser knife?”
“No.” He fished around down the front of his trousers.
“What the hell are you doing?” She couldn’t believe he wanted to get frisky now, of all places, at all times!
“I’m getting out the damn key.” He withdrew a slender silver cylinder. “Nice thing about being male is other males won’t frisk you there.”
“And just what is it you’ve managed to smuggle down your pants?” The cylinder didn’t look like a key.
“Compressed liquid nitrogen.” He sounded smug.
Her eyebrows went up. Right off the cuff, she thought of several ways to use the weapon smuggled in his pants. When the double entendre of her thoughts caught up to her, she had to bite down a crazy giggle.
He stood, pressed the tip of the cylinder to the lock, blasted one sharp hiss and rammed his hip against the door. The iron lock shattered like glass. He turned with a wicked smile, holding out his massive hand. “Come with me, Mary.”
Bobby Jameson had said that too. He’d always been nice to her, so she went. Just for a walk. Not too far. They talked and laughed as they went deeper into the woods. Spring covered the forest with lush shades of green while animals and insects darted and hummed. Bobby stopped near Hobblestone Creek, leaning close to kiss her. Mary waited breathlessly. Bobby wasn’t her first choice fo
r a first kiss, but Bobby was cute in his tall, dark and gangly way.
Out of nowhere, five boys shoved Bobby down and tied her to a tree. They laughed, threw dirt at her and ran. Bobby flashed her a guilty glance, but he ran too.
Mary spent the next three days frantically chewing through the rope, but once free, no one believed her side of the story. Bobby said she was easy. Fifteen and saddled with a reputation based on lies and imagination. Once sexual rumors started, her fighting against them only reinforced them. Mary said nothing, but they wouldn’t fool her again. She spent all her free time repeating every kata from the karate book Emmet gave her. If any man came at her, she’d beat the snot out of him and tie him to a tree. Men claimed to have bedded her, but she knew the truth.
The few who tried found out in a painful hurry that she wasn’t a woman to mess with. They could have turned her in for fighting, but then they would have had to fess-up to having their butts kicked by a girl. Most men decided to tell tales. They also decided to leave her alone.
“Come with me, Mary.” Michael held out his hand, waiting.
For the life of her, she couldn’t figure out why he was here. Why he’d let himself get thrown in jail with her. His actions made no sense. He had what he wanted. He knew her secrets and every curve of her body. What more could he possibly want from her? Baffled, she looked to his open hand.
What waited for her if she refused? Emmet would kill her when he discovered Overlord had slipped through his greedy fingers. She had stolen a fortune in goods, and Emmet could use the booty to hide for a lifetime. If she stayed, she had little chance of escaping on her own, and she no chance at all of getting off Taiga.
“Come with me, Mary.” Michael again offered his hand.
Swallowing down her fear, Mary reached out.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
When Mary slipped her hand to his, Michael almost sagged with relief. For her to offer even the slightest show of trust filled his heart with gratitude, and he vowed to make the most of his second chance.
He dropped to his knees, kissed the back of her work-worn hand and turned away. “Get on my back.”
After a beat of hesitation, she said, “I can walk.”
“Not with your foot in a cast.” He motioned to his back. “Come on, it’ll be fun.”
With a reluctant sigh, she climbed on him and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. He stood, grasping her knees to hold her in place.
“I feel like a little kid.” She squirmed against him.
“Want me to make horsy noises?” he whispered over his shoulder. “I could jump up and down and gallop around.” He bounced her a few times but stopped when the wooden floor squeaked.
With a breathless whisper to his ear, she said, “I think playing horsy with you would be a lot more fun if I was the other way ’round.”
His eyebrows lifted at her surprising comment. Her warm body pressed against his gave him very sudden and very wicked thoughts.
“Other way ’round minus the cast.” Mary nipped his ear.
Heat rose in him at the promise of her words. “Since you’re making lewd comments, does that mean I get to make rude ones?” He carried her out of the cell, wanting nothing more than to be alone with her somewhere private.
“Only if you want to.” She held fast to his shoulders.
“How about a truce for the moment?” He toed open the thick wooden door and ducked out into the humid autumn night. “Later, we can both make lewd comments. Preferably while naked.”
With a quick look around at the darkened buildings and the deserted dirt street, he took a few gulps of fresh air, then sprinted to the nearest stand of pine trees with Mary clinging to his back. Checking his wrist com, he got his bearings and raced through the woods toward Whisper’s shuttle.
“Did Emmet post guards on the shuttle?”
“No way. He didn’t want anyone to know what he was up to.”
“Good.”
“How—hell, for that matter—why did you—”
“All in good time, my sweet Mary. I promise I’ll answer any question you have, but not just now.” He poured every ounce of power into running with her on his back through the almost pitch-black forest. A pale crescent moon shed the only light on the narrow path. Thank gods for vision implants or he wouldn’t be able to see the rough, hard-packed trail at all. “Curl against my back, tuck your face down and pull your arms in.”
After a brief breath to protest, she did.
Distributing her slight weight like a backpack made jumping over roots and ducking low-hung branches faster. Off in the distance, he saw the gleaming hull of the shuttle.
Once inside, he set Mary down and cupped her face. “You have every right to be furious. I know I hurt you by not telling you the truth about my name.”
She opened her mouth, but before she could make a snide comment, he touched her lips.
“I am Michael ‘Overlord’ Parker. I don’t say that with any kind of pride, but it’s the truth, that’s my name. But you can call me anything you want; Co-man-dur, f’idiot, Prime Bastard. Call me what you will, but trust me to get us safe.”
She lifted her chin. “I don’t need your permission to call you names.”
“Granted.” He offered no challenge, and he wasn’t surprised that her flirtatious manner had disappeared. “I don’t know what Emmet told you, but he may not have told you the truth.”
“Truth is such a fickle thing.” She lowered her chin and scowled at the floor.
“Indeed.” Exerting faint pressure, he lifted her face. “I promise, we’ll work this all out once we’re safe.”
Her velvet-brown gaze fastened on him with the intensity of a thousand suns. “You’re asking me in a roundabout way not to take over this shuttle.”
He bowed formally. “I have underestimated you for the last time. If you wanted to take over this shuttle, I know you could. I’m asking you—no, I’m begging you—trust me enough to get us safe. After that, you can escape all you want. Deal?”
Suppressing a grin, she lifted her hand. “Deal.”
When Michael turned away, she couldn’t help but notice his outfit. Dirty cowboy. Brown homespun pants clung to his backside with the help of his empty holster. Tan broadcloth spanned his back. All she’d ever seen him wear was the finest silk, leather and cotton. To see him dressed down was almost as arousing as seeing him naked.
Trying to curb her wayward thoughts, she settled herself on the hardtack shuttle couch. No position was comfortable, since the cushions felt like dried slag. She’d grown far too accustomed to the luxury of Overlord’s prison.
Rumbling vibrations indicated Michael had no problem overriding her lock on the shuttle.
Flipping on his old wrist com, she laughed when ACCESS DENIED flashed on the crystal display. She wasn’t surprised he disabled it. He’d be a fool not to.
With a smile, she realized he was right. She could take over the shuttle if she wanted to. Three different ways popped instantly to mind; however, all three would injure Michael to some degree. She didn’t want to cause him pain, and yet did.
He’d hurt her, and she wanted to hurt him back, but in the same measure, she wanted to forgive him and start her life over with him. He turned out to be her romantic dream along with a solid dose of harsh reality. Michael wasn’t a hero or a villain. He was only a man. He’d saved her, and she didn’t know why, yet his heroic action touched her romantic heart and swayed her to trust him when, intellectually, she knew she shouldn’t.
She realized it didn’t matter if Emmet had told her the truth or not. She couldn’t do anything about the past. It hurt to think the one man she’d always trusted turned out to be the perpetrator of all the nasty tricks. Emmet had taken all the goods she’d swiped, sold them and banked the money. Not for an IWOG invasion, but to provide for his own plush getaway.
For the first time in her life, Mary found herself without a goal. She no longer cared to find her parents. She no longer worried about an IWOG i
nvasion of Taiga or the protection of Emmet. She could go anywhere and do anything she wanted. She didn’t have to consider anyone but herself. Such a freedom simultaneously excited and frightened her, much like Michael did. She’d trusted him too, and he’d tricked her. Just like Emmet.
As if he’d known she was thinking about him, Michael’s voice came over the com. “You okay back there?”
“I’m fine. Don’t worry, I’m not planning an escape.” Not yet, anyway.
He laughed and shut off the com.
What would she do? Where would she go? Michael had to be taking her back to Windmere. And once there, what? He said he loved her, but how could she trust him? He’d come to Taiga, but had he come to save her or Kraft’s ship? Or something else? What if he too lied to her about what he knew?
Lost in her thoughts, she shook out of them when the shuttle docked to Whisper with a solid clutch of metal to metal. She wanted to leap to her feet but didn’t. She looked down to her cast-clad right foot. Running away wasn’t an option.
“Mission complete,” Michael told Duster over the audvid. “I’m docking the shuttle to Whisper now.”
“We’re thirty minutes in front of you,” Duster responded from Elusive Grace.
“Let’s head home.”
“Is Mary okay?”
Michael pondered the concern in Duster’s voice and the distress stamped across his face. Just how deep did Duster’s feelings toward Mary go? They’d never competed over any woman, but Mary wasn’t just any woman.
“She’s fine. She promised not to take over the ship.” Michael spoke with confidence, but technically, Mary promised not to take over the shuttle. She didn’t say anything about the ship. Michael strode to the cockpit of Whisper and secured the sensors to his new wrist com and Duster’s ship. “Confirm tracking.”
“Confirmed.” Duster paused. “Did you apologize?”
“Not yet, but I’m getting there.” He went to retrieve Mary from the shuttle.
Overlord: The Fringe, Book 2 Page 26