by Beth Ciotta
“What an extraordinary gift,” Lily said in true awe. She knew Jasper possessed the strength of ten men, maybe more. P.J., who seemed smitten with the man, had made a point of relaying how Jasper had moved steel and iron to rescue Lily from the mangled Britannia.
“Jasper risked his life, fighting assailants one-handed, in order to haul you off that listing rig,” the aviatrix had said. “He deviated from our escape route in order to provide you with immediate medical attention. And since we refused to abandon our leader, that means every member of our core squad, including me, put your safety ahead of our own. You could at least do us the courtesy of trying to thrive.”
P.J.’s rant had failed to elicit sympathy or appreciation from Lily. She was not impressed in any form or fashion with Jasper and his rebel squad. She was, however, most impressed with Doc Blue.
“What do you look like?” she blurted.
“Excuse me?”
“I’d feel better if I had a visual sense of you.” Lily scrambled for an explanation beyond her shallow curiosity. “It’s disconcerting, not seeing who’s treating me.”
Doc Blue shifted his ministrations, loosening the bandages around her ribcage. “Can’t say I feel comfortable describing myself.”
“Can’t say I feel comfortable, period,” Lily whispered, then felt compelled to add, “and it has nothing to do with the nature of your birth.” Cheeks burning, she fought to temper her erratic pulse as the supernatural healer placed his hands over her bruised, bare flesh. HE seared through her skin, but it was the man who melted her senses. Though the physician’s palms spanned her ribs, his fingers rested close to the undersides of her breasts. A chaste woman, Lily had never known the intimate touch of a man. That moment her imagination ran amok pondering what other kinds of magic Doc Blue worked with his hands.
“Nothing personal,” he said as though reading her mind.
All the same her heart fluttered like a besotted twit’s. She bit her lower lip, afraid to speak, afraid of saying something stupid. Were his hands the sole channel for HE? What of his mouth? Could he kiss her and make her all better? “Oh, God.”
“Please try to bear it, Miss Gentry. The longer the contact, the deeper the treatment.”
Lily frowned, realizing he’d mistaken her fascination for fear. As a Freak, he was probably used to being rejected.
On a whim, Lily reached down and placed her hands over Doc Blue’s. Her pulse tripped and another sort of tingle coursed through her body and centered at her intimate juncture. Taken aback by the keen rush of desire, Lily tempered scandalous thoughts regarding the man hovering over her. Good sense and decorum dictated she pull away. Instead, she slid her palms up and clasped his forearms.
“What are you doing?” he asked, voice tense.
“Getting a visual sense of you.” She’d never been so forward with a man. Did he think she was flirting? Was she flirting? “I’m imagining a fit physique,” she said. “Your hands are large and your forearms muscular, though not overly bulky. When you entered the room, your footfall was not as heavy as Jasper’s or Snoop’s, but not as light as P.J.’s. I wager your height and build somewhere between intimidating and inconsequential.”
He laughed a little, and her heart danced. “I’ve not met Snoop,” he said, “but Jasper trumps me in bulk and Miss Darcy, as you guessed, is a wisp of a thing. Physically, anyway. So, yes, I am somewhere in between.”
“Average height and build,” she said, itching but not daring to extend her touch to his shoulders, his face …
“Not overly short or tall. A mite lanky maybe, but solid. Fair skin. Blond, almost white, hair. Bad haircut. Short. Choppy.”
She smothered a smile. “How old?”
“Twenty-one.”
Only a few years older than her eighteen. Given his confidence and demeanor, she had guessed him older. “What are you wearing?”
“Trousers. Shirt.”
“Details, Doc Blue. Please.” Self-conscious now, Lily released her hold on the man and clasped her hands together to still their trembling. Why the devil was she trembling? “What color are your trousers? What style? Do you fancy cowboy attire, or a conventional suit? Somehow I don’t picture you in bell-bottoms and love beads, so ModVic is out. Humor me, doctor. How can I paint you if I don’t know what you look like?”
“Why would you want to paint me?”
His guarded tone stopped her cold. For a scant second, her imagination had sparked back to life and for the first time in days, color had blossomed in her desolate world. A solid and vivid image had formed in her mind’s eye. She’d imagined Doc Blue as clearly as if she were actually seeing him.
But then he’d questioned her motive. Reality muscled whimsy aside and Lily’s world tilted back toward the dark side. Instead of a kind and strong physician—a compassionate healer—Lily envisioned a killing machine. A menacing figure with weapons on his arms—no, weapons where his arms should be. It made no sense, yet she could see bullets spraying out of his hands—no, an iron barrel. Endless sparks of fiery red. Chaos. Destruction.
Evil.
A chill iced down Lily’s spine as a river of blood exploded in her mind’s eye. Horrified, she turned inward, toward the darkness. But the river gushed toward her.
So much red.
“Miss Gentry.”
She retreated deeper, into the bowels. Into the darkness. Heart pounding, chest tightening.
“Listen to me, angel. Focus on my voice. Breathe.”
Lily gasped for air. She grappled for the railing. Someone caught her hands.
Warm hands. Kind heart.
Compassionate healer.
“Doc Blue?” His name barely scraped past her constricted throat.
“Hold tight, Miss Gentry.”
“Name’s Lily,” she choked out.
“I know.”
She clung to his strong grip, frantic for a connection. A connection with a good man, a man worth knowing. “What is your Christian name?
“Can you keep a secret?”
Certain she was drowning in a sea of crimson, Lily pulled herself up and into her savior’s arms. “Cross my heart.”
“King.”
Trembling, she frowned against his neck. “Honest and true?”
“Honest and true.”
“Don’t make me look, King.” She squeezed her lids tight, blocking the red, blocking the horror. Her breath hitched as a menacing vision stormed her defenses.
The Killing Machine.
Run!
In her mind’s eye, she slipped on grated stairs, arms flailing, senses spinning.
“Dying!”
“You’re not dying, Lily. It’s anxiety. Listen to my voice. Focus on my words.”
Her frantic heart skipped then slowed as Doc Blue … Doctor King Blue … shielded her from harm. He held her close, engulfed her in warmth. Not just with his hands, but with his entire body.
Lily swallowed past the lump in her throat. Her clouded thoughts cleared enough to ascertain her true surroundings. She wasn’t running for her life on the Britannia. She was safe and sound in a skytown, in the arms of her brother’s friend. The pain from her injuries had diminished to a whisper of discomfort, and though she was still sightless, instead of feeling panicked and hopeless she felt oddly comforted.
Unlike before, Lily welcomed the black.
Colors equaled chaos.
Evil.
Death.
Ensconced in blessed darkness, she took refuge in her savior’s strong embrace and the sound of his voice as he soothed her with a tale about a daring young woman who’d won her brother’s heart.
Chapter Five
Doc didn’t remember falling asleep, but dash it all, he felt the full force of consciousness as someone plucked him out of bed. Lily’s bed.
Jasper.
Doc wrangled his murky thoughts as his brother swiftly and silently hauled him out of the stifling cabin and into the frigid corridor. The bracing chill jarred his senses right quick.
He remembered talking Lily down from her panic. He’d kept on talking when he’d felt her drifting off. The woman needed to sleep, and Doc had needed time to rejuvenate. He’d depleted his energies by doubling his healing efforts. Just now he felt as though he could take on the world.
Or at least one rebellious, mule-headed brother.
They faced off in the murky hallway, a stone’s throw from Lily’s cabin. Doc in his shirtsleeves and Jasper suited up for combat in the frozen tundra—fur greatcoat, fleece-lined aviator cap, fur-trimmed goggles … and a leather harness loaded with a Remington Blaster, several cartridges, and—Lord Almighty—was that a double-barreled grenade-launching Liberator?
Without his coat and hat, Doc’s teeth should’ve been chattering, but he was so all-fired hot under the collar, he half expected flames to shoot out of his mouth when he spoke. “Attempted kidnapping of the British Prime Minister?” he snapped in a hushed voice. “Have you lost your ever-lovin’ mind?”
“What I’ve lost,” Jasper growled back, “is my capacity to trust anyone. Even my own kind. Even my damned brother.”
Doc blinked. “What the blazes does that mean?”
“Since when did you start sleeping with your patients?”
Unfazed, Doc glanced over his shoulder at the closed door. “Since when did you start attacking innocents?”
“There are no innocents in this world. Not many anyway. Care to explain yourself?”
Doc glared at his brother. If anyone needed to account for their actions of late, it was Jasper Bluebell. Regardless, Doc stated the circumstance in defense of Lily’s reputation. “She was having a spell.”
“You could have reasoned with her. That’s what I did. That’s what we used to do when Ma—” Jasper bit off the words and glanced away.
Doc felt his brother’s grief. His fury. Hellacious and raw—even after all these years.
In the past, even a flicker of rage set Jasper off. Doc braced for an outburst, but instead of smashing his fist through the wall, instead of ripping the door off its hinges or acting out in some massively destructive way, Jasper plucked a cheroot from his pocket and casually leaned against the splintered wall.
Doc was somewhat impressed. If he wasn’t so almighty angry with Jasper he would’ve complimented his restraint. Instead he wanted to box his ears. “Lily needed more than verbal reassurance,” he said. “She needed to feel safe. Sheltered and protected. She’s scared.”
“Don’t look at me all judgmental like,” Jasper said as he fired up the stogie. “Ain’t my fault she’s in this fix. She shouldn’t have been on that zeppelin. I studied the passenger list. I had an inside contact. Soldiers, politicians, and a small entourage, and the crew of the Britannia—all men.”
“All but one.”
“Like I said—”
“She wasn’t a documented passenger.” Doc grunted then paced to work off steam. “Regardless, Lily was there and in the thick of the attack. And she wasn’t the only one hurt, Jasper. Have you read the newspapers?”
“Don’t need to read about it. I was there.”
Doc got a face full of smoke as he stalked past his brother. The foreign scent snaked up his nostrils and into his lungs. Swiveling on his boot heels, he eyed Jasper with a raised brow. “That’s not tobacco.”
“No, it’s not.”
“Or weed.” Doc got a nose full of cannabis every time he visited a skytown coffeehouse.
“It’s medicinal.”
“A doctor prescribed it? For what? What’s ailing you?” Jasper looked fit as a fiddle. In the three years since they’d last met, he’d bulked up even more. His kaleidoscope eyes were bright, his complexion sun-bronzed, his mind sharp. Easy to see why P.J. Darcy was smitten. Jasper Bluebell cut a fine figure. Then there was his dangerous streak, a quality that historically tempted good women to do wrong. Although Lily hadn’t seemed all that impressed. ’Course, she hadn’t gotten an eyeful of the charismatic Freak Fighter either. When she did …
Nipped by the green-eyed monster, Doc considered his normally capricious brother’s relaxed disposition. “Let me guess. Medicinal is code for recreational which is code for illegal. What kind of havoc are you wrecking on your body, Jasper? What are the side effects? Does it hinder your judgment? Slow your reactions? Spark hallucinations? Were you under the influence when you boarded the Brittania?” Incensed by the brutality of the attack, Doc palmed his throbbing head. “Twenty critically injured. Nine dead—so far. Christ!”
“Take the stick out of your ass and keep your voice down, Blue.” Jasper snuffed the medicinal butt beneath his boot. “Lily’s traumatized enough as is. She doesn’t need specifics.”
“Then maybe we should take this conversation elsewhere, because I want details, Jasper. I want to know what happened aboard the Britannia. Precisely.”
The papers had described a ruthless massacre. A blood bath. They’d blamed the Freak Fighters. It twisted Doc’s gut to think his brother had plotted and perpetuated a heinous crime. He didn’t want to believe it but he needed to hear it from Jasper. He also wanted to know what Lily had witnessed, exactly, and how she’d sustained her injuries.
“Without Patch, I’m down to a squad of four and they’re on recon and patrol just now. That leaves me to ensure Lily’s safety.”
“And me.”
Jasper quirked a taunting grin. “What are you gonna do, Blue? Strangle someone with your stethoscope?”
He didn’t need to glance down to know the medical instrument was still dangling where he’d automatically left it—around his neck. Standing strong and crossing his arms, Doc eyed his brother’s holstered arsenal. “Killing ain’t the only means of defense.”
“No, but it’s the surest one.”
Just then P.J. burst into the corridor, winded and flushed. “Red alert!”
Jasper pushed off the wall. “ALE?”
“Bounty hunter. Joey and Viper intercepted and took him on a merry chase, but our cover’s as good as blown.” P.J. sleeved sweat from her brow, eyed Doc, then focused back on Jasper. “It’s Crusher McGee.”
“Shit.”
“Snoop’s firing up the Crusader. You know Crusher. Joey and Viper need backup. If they can’t outwit or outrun that black-hearted sod … he’ll be gunning for us next.”
Doc didn’t know of Crusher, but he knew Jasper. “Let me guess, this particular bounty hunter has a bullet with your name on it.”
“Since the attack on the Britannia, the reward for my capture has quadrupled.”
“Wanted dead or alive,” P.J. added. “Crusher tends to opt for dead or maimed. He’s mean that way.”
“Plus he’s got a personal beef with me so he’ll be looking to crush any one or all of my associates. Literally.” Jasper loaded his Blaster while glancing toward Lily’s cabin door. “Did you fix her?”
“Lily’s a person, not a thing,” Doc snapped. “If you’re asking if she’s healed—not completely, but physically she should be right as rain by tomorrow.”
“Don’t have till tomorrow. Can she see?”
“No.”
“Hell’s fire, Blue.” Jasper holstered his weapon then whirled and slammed both hands to the wall. “Son of a bitch!”
Doc moved in front of P.J., just in case Jasper lost control.
The fool woman nudged him aside. “Time’s ticking, boss.”
Jasper nodded then dipped his head in thought.
P.J. bounced from one booted foot to the other, primed for action.
Doc near bout choked on the tension. He’d been anxious to see his brother for three long years. Now, after less than an hour in his company, he wanted the man gone, along with P.J. and his other associates. Far away and out of the clutches of a mercenary who crushed his prey.
“We’re moving out.” Jasper swiveled toward Lily’s cabin.
Doc grabbed his brother’s arm. “Leave her with me.”
“I’m taking you both.”
“We’re not part of this, Jasper.”
/> “Crusher won’t see it that way. ’Specially if he learns you’re my brother.” He turned to P.J. “Partner with Snoop, and escort Blue and Lily to the outpost.”
“But—”
“That’s an order, Darcy.”
“So you’re piloting the Crusader alone?” she persevered. “You know she’ll draw attention.”
“That’s the point, short stuff. Alert Snoop and man up.”
P.J. grumbled under her breath then took off.
Doc tightened his grip and took one last stab at separating Tuck’s sister from the unpredictable Freak Fighters. “I’ll keep Lily safe, Jasper.”
“Don’t doubt you’d try, Blue. But then who would protect you?” Jasper wrenched open the cabin door, and Lily fell into his arms.
“I’m ready to go,” she said. “But not with you, Jasper. I’m with Doc.”
Chapter Six
Lily had stirred from a dreamless sleep the moment Jasper hauled Doc out of her bed. She’d known it was Jasper, even though the man hadn’t uttered a word. She knew his scent. But she’d been disoriented, and the Freak Fighter had been quick. Before she knew it the brothers had left her cabin, although not her vicinity.
She’d heard them shuffling and talking just beyond her closed door. Doc’s agitated tone intrigued and worried her, and before she knew it, she’d pushed herself upright. Experiencing only minor discomfort, she’d slid quietly from the bed, astonished that she could actually stand on her own two feet. The brace on her broken leg proved a hindrance but she was afraid to remove it. What if the bones weren’t fully mended? Just how powerful was Doc’s HE?
Shocked by her accelerated recovery, Lily’s heart sank when she realized Patch had definitely misdiagnosed her blindness. If she’d had a contusion, the swelling would have diminished along with her other ailments. Eyes wide open, Lily looked all around the room … and saw nothing.
Surrounded by darkness and a plethora of sounds.
The hissing of the steam heat generator.
The creaking of floorboards.
Doc and Jasper arguing about drugs and the Britannia.
Then P.J. storming into the corridor, alerting the men about a killer named Crusher McGee.