by Beth Ciotta
Was it possible her blindness was self-inflicted?
Snoop smiled down at him. “My thoughts exactly.”
Chapter Eight
Even though they hadn’t been greeted by a league of gun-toting Fighters, Doc sensed they were being watched from several vantage points. He held Lily close, trying to keep her warm as Snoop deactivated an alarm and triggered a geared mechanism. With a hiss and several metallic clicks an iron door slid open, revealing a dimly lit foyer. No furnishings. No people. Just dank walls brandishing crude oil lamps. Must and smoke curled into Doc’s nostrils as they stepped inside and the door groaned shut behind them.
Lily clung tighter. He didn’t blame her. He felt it, too. Tension. Danger.
An armed guard stepped out of the shadows.
“They’re with us,” Snoop said.
“Where’s Jasper?” the man asked in a gruff voice.
“Wrangling a bounty hunter along with Joey and Viper.”
Another Fighter appeared, decked out in leather and brass armor. “Strangers aren’t welcome. Especially now.”
“Don’t get your codpiece in a twist,” P.J. said. “This is Jasper’s brother, Blue, and his wife, Lily.”
Doc blinked down at the aviatrix who hushed him with a nudge of her boot.
“We’re here on Jasper’s orders,” Snoop said. “He’ll be here soon.”
The Fighters exchanged glances. “Keep them out of sight until he gets here,” the first one said. “For their own safety.”
The intimidating pair melted into the shadows and P.J. grunted. “I’d say they’re more bark than bite but they aren’t.” She hurried toward a crude elevator. “Going up,” she said in a pithy voice.
Once inside the rickety contraption, Lily looked in the woman’s general direction. “Why did you lie about me?”
“The outpost is teeming with rowdy men,” P.J. said as the elevator jerked upward. “Taking you off the market seemed wise.”
“But you’re a single woman.”
“She’s a Fighter,” Snoop said.
“I’ll pop into Central Communication,” P.J. said while tugging off her gloves. “See if anyone’s heard anything about Jasper or the investigation.” She passed Snoop a key. “Put them in K-4. Help yourself to my wardrobe, Gentry, such as it is. As for you,” she said to Doc, “don’t venture out. Easy to get lost in the grids, plus folks are twitchy about the traitor.”
The shaft squealed to a halt. The doors opened and P.J. dashed to the right. Snoop peeled left and Doc followed. “What’s this about a traitor?”
“Later.”
Arms locked tight around Doc’s neck, Lily spoke in a hushed tone. “I think P.J.’s in love with your brother.”
“Most women are.”
“Not this woman.”
“You might feel different once your sight returns and you get an eyeful.”
“You don’t think it’s permanent? My blindness?”
“No, angel. I don’t.”
She squeezed him tight and smiled against his neck. “I can’t wait to see you.”
Doc tensed. As long as Lily was blind, he was perfect. She wouldn’t feel that way once she got a look at his defect. Gut knotted, he followed Snoop through a tangle of torch-lit corridors. He looked for visual markers but every hall looked the same and none of the doors they passed were marked. Plus they hadn’t passed a single soul.
“Where is everyone?”
“Never you mind.” Snoop stopped sudden like at an unremarkable door and shoved the key into the lock. They moved inside and the big man set the small room alight with kerosene lanterns. “This is P.J.’s temporary quarters. Help Miss Gentry settle in, yeah? I’ll be waiting ootside.”
Doc wasn’t crazy about leaving Lily alone, but he supposed they could lock her inside, plus P.J. would be coming back. Anxious to speak with Jasper’s second-in-command, he settled Lily on the edge of what passed for a bed. The door closed and Doc looked around. He didn’t see a closet or an armoire, so he went for the small steamer trunk. “Like the furnishings of this room,” he said to Lily, “P.J.’s wardrobe is pretty sparse.”
“I’m grateful for whatever.”
“Wool trousers and a brown shirt. Socks. Boots.”
“That’s fine.”
“I don’t mean to be intrusive, but I should help you. Your leg—”
“Nothing personal, right?”
Surprised by her brittle tone, Doc eyed Lily as he approached the wooden platform with the inch high mattress. She’d already slipped out of his coat and was fumbling to tighten the laces of the thin white chemise. Head bowed, her long hair fell forward hiding her expression, but he could see the tension in her shoulders. “What’s wrong?”
“I felt you pull away out there. I thought you wanted me. I thought …”
“I do want you, Lily.” Ah, hell. That’s not what he’d meant to say. “It’s just … it can’t be. We can’t be.”
She looked up at him with those beautiful sightless blue eyes. “Is there someone else?”
“No.”
“Is it because we’ve only just met? Don’t you believe in spontaneous love? I never dreamed it would happen for me, but …”
“I believe in it now.” Dash it all! Disgusted by his lack of control, Doc dug deep for professionalism. He laid the clothes on the bed then stooped down in front of his vulnerable patient. “Before we pull on those trousers let me infuse your leg with more HE.” He wrapped his hands around her shin, trying not to derive pleasure from the feel of her bare skin. Trying and failing.
“If you … care for me,” she ventured, “why can’t we be together?”
“There are a number of reasons.”
“Name them.”
“God, but you’re forward. Tuck always described you as shy. What happened?”
“You.”
His heart swelled and ached something awful. “I,” Doc forced past his constricted throat, “am a Freak.”
“So?”
“A first generation Freak, Lily. I’m … different.”
“I’ve been called eccentric. Because of my paintings, my style. They call it avant-garde.”
“You don’t understand.”
“I may be young, but I’m not uneducated, King. Nor have I lived with my head in the sand. I know your race is persecuted. That’s what your brother is fighting for, yes? Equal rights for Freaks? We may not agree with his methods, but it’s a good cause. I’m not afraid to join in the fight in a nonviolent way. I’m not afraid to be with you.”
“You should be,” Doc snapped. Then he blew out a breath and rolled back his shoulders. “Sorry.” He thought about his parents, hounded and hassled. He thought about the house fire that had taken their lives. The officials had blamed a faulty furnace. But like Jasper, Doc suspected calculated arson. Murder. The only reason the Bluebell brothers had escaped harm was because they’d snuck out of the house in the middle of the night to go skinny-dipping with a couple of Jasper’s more daring female admirers. If Doc allowed his mind to wander, he could still hear the sickening explosion. He could smell the burning wood.
“People fear what they don’t understand, Lily. Sometimes that fear causes them to strike out. You wouldn’t be safe with me.”
“I’m willing to take the chance.”
“I’m not.” Good God, he loved this woman more by the minute. How was that possible?
“Is it because you think I’m frail? Cowardly? I know I’ve been difficult since the accident, despondent. But I promise you, I’m made of sterner stuff. Whatever trials you may suffer due to your Freak heritage, I’ll not only weather, I’ll help you to overcome and prevail.”
Her vehemence moved Doc mightily, but his gut cramped with a theory he’d yet to address. “Forgive my wariness, Lily, but I have to wonder. How can you be so brave for me, yet, just this morning, you were ready to give up on yourself?”
She blinked down at him.
“This sudden burst of courage, your spontan
eous affection for me, I fear it’s twisted up with gratitude and perhaps awe of my supernatural gift.”
She sat quiet for a moment—contemplating—then blew out a ragged breath. “There is logic in your assumption. I cannot deny I am most grateful that you quickened my healing and soothed the pain. I cannot help but to admire such a wondrous gift, but …” She shook her head. “I’m not so shallow as to have succumbed to hero worship. When you know me better, you’ll realize that. What I feel for you is honest and true, King.”
He wanted to believe that. He truly did. But Doc was a pragmatic man. Once her sight returned, once they left the dicey outpost and she returned to a more normal life, to the protection of her brother and the solace of her art, surely Lily’s fascination with him would fade.
Somber now, Doc squeezed her leg. “I’m going to help you with these trousers.”
“I’m going to change your mind.”
“There are no skirts in that trunk, angel.”
“I mean about me. About taking a chance.”
Doc’s pulse skipped when she reached down and palmed the sides of his face. He froze as her fingers brushed over his cheeks, his nose, his jaw.
“So handsome,” she whispered.
He swallowed. “You wouldn’t say that if you could see me.”
“Why? Are you disfigured somehow? You feel beautiful to me. Strong jawline. Regal nose.”
“My eyes.”
She reached up and touched his goggles. “Do you always wear these?”
“These or tinted wraparound specs.”
“I’ve heard that Freaks have rainbow eyes,” Lily said as she gently pushed his goggles to his forehead. “Multiple colors that slowly swirl.”
“All Freaks are born with kaleidoscope eyes.”
“Do you shield your eyes so Vics won’t stare?”
“Shield them so folks won’t recoil.” Doc was stunned by his bald honesty. His botched surgery had rendered him self-conscious—a weakness he accepted but never spoke of. Yet he’d shared his personal torment with Lily as easily as he’d admitted the fact that he was a Freak, another thing he usually kept to himself.
“Why would people recoil from such beauty?” Lily asked as she traced her fingers over his eyebrows. “All those colors—dancing together like a Monet painting.”
Doc’s heart hammered as her feather-light touch extended to his closed lids. He’d never been so aroused in all his born days.
And never so miserable.
“There are no colors, Lily.”
“What do you mean?”
He grasped her hands, held them strong and true while he bared his heart. “When I was three, my parents decided they wanted to give me a shot at a normal life. Life as a Vic, or at least the appearance of one. They’d heard about a procedure, consulted with a specialist. There’d been a couple of successful cases.”
He focused on Lily’s pretty features, her lovely blue eyes. “My parents thought they were doing the right and kind thing. Unfortunately, the surgery was botched and the kaleidoscope of colors burst and blended into all colors.”
“White.”
“That’s right. I’ve got no irises, Lily. Just small black pupils in the middle of brilliant white.”
She furrowed her brow. “Does it hurt?”
“No.”
“Can you see all right?”
“Right as rain.”
“I’m thinking I could stare into those eyes forever, King.” She tilted her head and smiled a little. “Eyes are the windows to the soul. I’m thinking I’d see compassion and wisdom shining in all that white. I’m thinking you’re like one of my paintings. Unique.”
Touched beyond words, Doc dropped his forehead to Lily’s. “I’ve never met anyone like you.”
“I hope you never will again. It’s kind of nice being special.”
“Yes, it is.”
He didn’t wait for her to ask. He knew what she wanted. He wanted it too. A brush of the lips, a sample of heaven. Against his better judgment, Doc kissed his broken angel and soared beyond dimensions. She made him feel whole and worthy. Desirable.
Threading his fingers through her silky hair, Doc cradled her head and took the kiss deeper. Her enthusiastic response singed his brain cells. He lost control. Or maybe it was her. Or mutual. Somehow Lily ended up on his lap. Straddling him, she rocked against his erection, her arms locked tight around his neck as their tongues dueled.
Lust raged and crackled and Doc finessed her onto her back while she yanked at his shirttails. A voice in the back of his charred mind urged him to stop, but his need, her need drove him on. He nearly lost it when her soft hands slid over the bunched muscles of his bare back. He wanted her naked too.
Groaning, he broke the kiss to sample her neck, her collarbone. He tugged at her chemise, gaining access to her small, firm breasts. “So beautiful.” He flicked his tongue over a rosy bud then suckled.
Her sensual moan stimulated his system with the intensity of synthetic aphrodisiac.
A knock on the door stopped him cold.
“Be right there,” he called over his shoulder while covering Lily with a coarse blanket. He stared at her flushed face for a long moment, heart pounding, shaft throbbing. “How can someone so sweet be so dangerous?”
“I guess you bring out the devil in me,” she said in a breathless voice.
Doc kissed her forehead. “Stay here and rest.” Willing good sense, he left the room, the flames of hell lickin’ at his boots.
Chapter Nine
Lily knew she’d acted scandalously with Doc. She’d lost control and she was finding it hard to care. Even though Doc had worked miracles on her injuries, she couldn’t shake the feeling that life was short. She’d escaped death on the Britannia only to risk being crushed by a maniacal bounty hunter. Even now, being in the heart of a Freak Fighter outpost, anything could happen. What if she fell prey to a suspicious hostile? What if ALE discovered the outpost and blew the hideaway—and everyone in it—to smithereens?
What if she tripped on her own two feet, hit her head, and crossed through the Pearly Gates?
In a heartbeat, her life could be over. She wasn’t ready. Whether she recovered her vision or not she wanted to pursue the pleasures of life with vigor. Like kissing, and touching, and caressing the man who set her heart aflame. She wanted to make love. She wanted to have babies. She didn’t need sight to do all those things. As for her art, surely she could find some way to divert her passion.
Lily dressed as fast and as best she could in her confounding darkness. Everything—trousers, shirt, sack coat—fit fairly well. She wished there’d been a gown or at least a frilly bodice—something more feminine to make her look pretty in Doc’s eyes. She wondered what had happened to her own dress then bemoaned the loss of her entire wardrobe. Her sketchbook and charcoal pencils, her treasured art box containing her paints and brushes—all lost on the Britannia.
“Be grateful you’re alive,” she told herself then pinched color into her cheeks and finger-combed her hair. She was anxious for Doc’s return. To discuss their future.
His concern that her intimate feelings were rooted in gratitude and awe had rattled her, but not as much as his questioning her backbone. Regardless of her recent anxiety, Lily possessed a good dose of determination and grit. She attributed those qualities to being shuffled from one relative to another for most of her life. Being smothered or manipulated by her wards in a bid to shelter her from her brother’s perilous world. She knew Tuck’s intentions were pure and that he’d kept her at arms’ length to keep her safe. But as she’d grown older, she’d craved adventure and purpose. And she’d longed to spend time with the older brother she barely knew.
It had taken a good amount of grit for Lily to finagle passage to England via the Britannia.
Tightening and tying the laces of the sturdy boots she’d borrowed from P.J., Lily contemplated fate. She thought she’d been destined to join her brother and his exploits aboard the Maverick. N
ow she knew her destiny lied with one of Tuck’s crew. She could assist Doc Blue with his healing efforts. He possessed a blessed gift, and she wanted to help him share it with others, like he had with her.
Lily fairly burst with renewed drive.
When could they leave here? Jasper had ordered them to the outpost for their safety, yet she felt like a prisoner. Did Jasper aim to keep her here until she was as good as new? If he sent her to Tuck blind, did Jasper truly think the famous Air Marshal would blame him for her affliction and come gunning? Doc had said her blindness wasn’t permanent, but what if it was long lasting?
Anxious, Lily sat on the shoddy bed and braided her hair to keep from pacing. Her legs felt as good as healed, but she didn’t want to push her luck. Braiding her hair felt natural and easy and she welcomed the monotony of something normal.
The door creaked open and Lily lit up.
“Temper your excitement, Gentry. It’s just me.”
P.J.
The aviatrix clomped into the room and slammed shut the door. “Your sweetheart’s in the next room speaking with Snoop. I brought us something to drink and eat. I see you found my clothes. They fit you nicely, even though they’re not your style. I’ll fetch you some ties for your braids.”
Lily sat ramrod still, sensitive to the tension in the air. P.J. prattled on as a habit, but instead of sounding confident and cocky, she sounded distracted. “Did you learn anything about Jasper?”
“No, I did not. No word on Joey or Viper either.” She clanged a tray to a table, at least that’s what it sounded like to Lily, then stomped across the room and rifled through something—a box, a jar. “They’re probably leading Crusher on a wild goose chase. Away from here. Or maybe they shot him down—that would be spectacular—and are in the process of covering their tracks.” She sniffed. “I’m not worried.”
Liar.
Lily flinched when P.J. moved swiftly in front of her.
“Didn’t mean to scare you,” the woman said while securing the ends of one braid.
“I’m not scared,” Lily said. “You startled me, is all.” She hated that everyone, including Doc, consider her a flighty mouse. Then again, up until now, she hadn’t shown much sass. P.J. Darcy, on the other hand, was a ball of fiery confidence. An impervious scrapper, all rough and tough and lacking girlish foibles. Except when it came to her squad leader.