He couldn’t wait to use the potion on her. He wanted to hear her screams as he placed it drop by strategic drop on her body. “I’m not going to let you lead me at gunpoint to the research we need.”
Blinking, she tilted her head to the side and furrowed her brows. “Lead you? I think you misunderstand me, Mr. Gambini. I’ve brought the papers and mechanicals with me. I merely wanted to make sure I returned to my ship safely after the fact.”
He took three steps toward her, well aware his men followed. Then he stopped and focused on the people around her—all women. “I’m sorry, Dr. Mason, but I don’t have time for people who lie to me. Where is the man who’s with you?”
For the first time, she looked nervous, her eyes shifting from side to side in the tiniest of movements. Without his implant, he never would have seen it from this distance. A man with long blond hair and broad shoulders stepped from behind a tree. Gambini laughed, understanding her fear.
“Marshal. This is a bit of a surprise. Here to try again? I’m not sure I have the inclination to let you go with a warning slice this time. Tell me, do you still see the little bitch’s blood on your hands when you close your eyes at night?” He refocused on Mason’s daughter. “If he’s here, the research isn’t. As I said, I don’t have time for liars.”
With a twitch of his hands, his men opened fire. The marshal grabbed Mason’s daughter and yanked her behind a tree, but most of the warrior women stood strong, shooting at his men from behind rocks and other minimal shelter.
Bullets ricocheted off stone, thunked into tree trunks and occasionally met flesh, sending sprays of crimson to paint the air. Given time, most of his men would heal from a simple gunshot. Those who wouldn’t were replaceable. Metal impacted with his body, but Gambini barely felt the hits. He was more than human now, more than simple weapons could destroy.
None of them understood. Not his men, not even Mason’s daughter.
These fools couldn’t kill him, yet they kept trying.
Another of the warrior women fell, clutching a wound in her thigh with one hand as she continued firing with the other. She staggered backward and yelled past the pain that had to be consuming her, “Fall back.”
And now they thought he’d allow them to run?
While the Badlands warriors dragged their wounded—and even their dead—from the fight, he motioned his own men forward. True immortality waited for him atop the mountain, and no group of women playing with guns would stand in his way. He was so intent on the warriors he almost missed Mason’s daughter stepping from her cover. Would have missed her had she not spoken.
“Gambini.”
He turned without firing. She was the one woman here Lupo might have use for. Damaged. Not dead. The sole reason he hadn’t issued a more devastating attack.
A quiet smile spread across her lips, one that called to mind an expression he’d seen on his own face many times. One filled with malice.
“The key difference between me and my father is that he never learned the art of subterfuge.”
With that, she jerked two small brass pieces from the edge of her corset and flung them into the air. She dashed back the way she’d come, racing after the warrior women. Gambini followed the path of the projectiles, not bothering to duck as they buzzed by his head. Insects? Does she truly expect me to be distracted by her shiny toys?
He sneered, moving forward once more, slowly so his men could join him. The warriors might have gained some distance, but they couldn’t hide from him. Time mattered little. The clockworks, a silly distraction, continued to dart around the clearing, bouncing from one obstacle to another. When he heard a metallic ting, he froze and glanced back toward the sound. His ocular implant twisted then twisted again, trying to focus while his aural clockworks registered a low rumble of unknown origin.
At last he could see clearly. A pair of flimsy wires bounced and danced—one from a tree off the path, the other along the ground. Wires that clearly should have been attached to each other.
Gambini whipped his head toward the sound he’d heard. Even the shouts from his men couldn’t drown it out. The falling rocks were too close for that. And far too close for him to run now. His men might live through many things, but only one person here was equipped with implants strong enough to survive a rockslide.
From here, he’d have to go alone.
Perhaps he shouldn’t have ignored the bitch’s toys after all. He holstered his gun and shoved his hand deep into his pocket, using the mechanics in his arm to lock his fingers in a protective shield around the vial of Mason’s potion.
Sneering in the direction his prey had retreated, Gambini knew that whether or not he was allowed to kill her, he would make the bitch pay. Then the first of the rocks smashed into his shoulder, forcing him to the ground, and soon he knew nothing.
But for the first time in years, he remembered pain.
Chapter Eighteen
After the dust cleared, the warrior women went back to check for survivors. The rubble had buried them all—except Tobias, who had been tied on the far side of the blast zone. Despite his injuries, Henrietta had little sympathy for him. Still, she couldn’t bring herself to look him in the eyes...or eye, since one had been gouged out.
Carson tried to engage her in conversation on the trek back to the fortress, but she ignored him—unable to speak in the aftermath of so much death—until he said, “You were right.”
His admission, while appreciated, was vague.
“About what?”
Though his eyes locked on hers, he jerked his head back the way they’d come. “Stopping them. The plan was dangerous, but it worked.”
She tore her gaze away, staring straight ahead again. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were genuinely worried about me.”
“Who says I wasn’t?”
With the name Lily ringing through her mind, she simply shrugged.
“Silence again. Okay, then tell me this—why were you in my arms again when Catherine woke us up?”
She turned back to him, her mouth open, but no words came out. Smirk firmly in place, Carson snorted. He’d managed to distract her from her pain once more, and the only thing on Henri’s mind in that instant was wiping the expression off his face.
“The same reason I was there yesterday. I don’t think I made a peep in the storeroom, but you woke me from a dead sleep last night. Perhaps next time you’re in need of comfort, you should just ask for it.” Lengthening her stride, she surged ahead of him.
He caught her before she made it very far, dragging her to a stop, and waited for the others to pass. “I was very worried about you. You asked me why I did this? Why I’m so intent on getting Lupo and his thugs behind bars? Eight years ago, his men killed the woman I loved. The only thing I’ve felt in all that time was rage and the need for vengeance. Until I met you.” His hands cupped her face, tipping it up, his thumbs tracing her lower lip. “With you, I feel alive. I want to live again for the first time since I lost Lily. The idea of losing you to those same...”
Henri couldn’t think and didn’t want to. She didn’t want to examine his words or his motivations or her own worries. Instead, she acted on the instinct to take what she did want. Standing on her toes, she pressed her mouth to his and tangled her hands in his hair.
To hell with propriety, to hell with pretending she belonged anywhere other than right here, wrapped in Carson’s arms. His lips parted, his tongue sliding over her lips and then between them as she opened willingly, hungrily for him. Heat flooded her senses, but she didn’t pull away from it this time. She sank into its depths, feeling it in every inch of his body pressed to hers. Her tongue danced with his, sending shivers of desire through her that only his heat could warm. And she knew, without doubt, that for the rest of her life, she never wanted to feel the cold again.
As much as she wanted to linger, there would be time for exploring whatever this was later. Now they needed to make preparations to return Tobias and the research to Philadelphia. Once they entered the fortress, they drew away from each other, fingers touching until they had no choice but to separate. Carson and the warrior women went to discuss things with Queen Laurette, leaving Henri with the daunting task of talking to Spencer and Ever—alone.
Squaring her shoulders, she pushed open the door. Something crashed into the wood as she ducked into the room. “Get out, you traitorous bitch. I will kill you!”
Clearly the surgery hadn’t left Ever as exhausted as Henri had hoped. A piece of crockery smashed into the wall next to her head, shards pinging against her neck and arms before tumbling to the floor. At least the warrior wasn’t one hundred percent yet. Otherwise the thing would have hit Henri instead of the wall.
“I came to check on you.”
Spencer stepped around the cot, placing himself between them. “This might not be the best time.”
“Check on me? You ruined me.”
Part of Henri urged her to turn tail and rush out the door. Ever would never listen to her no matter what she did. A lady doesn’t participate in confrontation of this nature. That’s what her mother would have told her. And her father would’ve said she should have let Ever die in the cave.
I am not my parents. I don’t belong in their world. Just like Carson didn’t. Perhaps there was somewhere she could be with him. A place in the world she could carve out for herself.
But if that place was here with the Dark Hawk and the Badlands, it meant she couldn’t be a coward and run from Ever. If Henri turned around now, she’d never stop running. She balled her hands into fists and elbowed her way past a stammering Spencer. Ever had pushed herself to sitting and attempted to swing up from the cot. Henrietta caught her before she fell.
“Stop being such a stubborn bitch. You aren’t well enough to stand yet.”
“I will never be able to stand again.” Before Henri even registered movement, Ever’s fist connected with the side of her face. Pain blossomed there, sharp and immediate enough she almost dropped her patient. Instead, she staggered back a step but held on tight.
Spencer tried to peel her hands away. “I told you it wasn’t—”
Henri clenched her teeth, trying to hold back a whimper and speak at the same time. “Laurette needs you in her throne room, Spencer. I’d hop to that if I were you.”
“I can’t leave you like—”
“Now, please.” Ever’s entire body vibrated in her grip like an over-tightened clockwork spring—one wrong move on Henri’s part and she’d burst free and wreak havoc.
Spencer grumbled something she couldn’t understand but strode to the door. “I can’t protect you if I’m not here, just remember that.”
“I know.” Ten seconds later, the door clicked shut, and she nodded at Ever. “I’m going to sit you back down now.”
No response.
She eased the other woman onto the cot then perched on the edge of the chair Spencer had been using. “How is the pain?”
“Excruciating.”
At least they were talking now. “Would you like something for it?”
“I would like my leg back.” Ever’s face was set in stone—hard, cold. Henri sat silently, knowing nothing she could say would make the other woman feel better. Not yet at least. Finally, Ever jerked her gaze away. “No. The pain keeps me focused. I do not like your medicines and the way they dull my reflexes.”
Henri nodded, wiping her hands on her breeches. “I can appreciate that. Though, just this once, I also appreciate the fact that you weren’t completely perfect. I don’t think my face could have handled you at your best.”
The lichen around them shifted in strange patterns, flaring for a second then dulling to something quieter. Still not looking at her, Ever said, “You did not utter a sound when I hit you.”
“Would there have been a point? Your pain is bigger than mine was. The right to scream lay with you.”
“How often have you been hit across the face, Henrietta?”
A snort of laughter escaped, and the motion made her cheek flinch painfully—there would be a bruise there shortly. “I believe my mother slapped me once for using the same term you called me when I walked in. Besides that? This is the first.”
“You are stronger than I gave you credit for.”
Henri shrugged even as the praise made some part of her swell with pride. “Have I earned enough of your respect to discuss what happened without fielding threats on my life every other sentence?”
“No. But you have earned enough that I will keep them unspoken as often as possible.” Ever winced as she swung back onto the cot, but Henri knew better than to offer help. More than medication for the pain, to heal Ever needed independence.
As plainly as she could, Henri explained what had happened in the cave and why the limb couldn’t be saved. Then, sketching on the back of one of the useless papers from her father’s files, she laid out her plan.
“And you are certain you can do this?” A muscle below Ever’s left eye twitched as she examined the diagram, rotating the paper to see different angles.
“Fairly certain.”
“I do not like it.”
Henri took the paper with a quiet sigh. “I didn’t expect you to like it. Just consider it. You don’t need to decide now. While we take Tobias back, work with Spencer on getting around. Perhaps you’ll be able to adapt. If not, please let me try to help you.”
She crumpled the paper in her fist, but Ever’s fingers tugged on the edge. “Can you leave this? I would like to be able to discuss it with Spencer. Formulate any questions I might have before your return.”
Henri’s heart stopped and lodged itself somewhere in her throat, leaving her little more than the ability to nod and release the sketch.
“I am tired now, and I am sure you should be on your way.”
Dismissed as surely as if Ever had thrown something and screamed for her to leave, Henri stood. She turned toward the door but paused and picked the blanket off the floor, handing it to Ever. “If there had been any other way, I would have chosen it. Please know that.”
Ever gave a curt nod, anger and pain still drawing harsh lines on her face. “I do.”
There was nothing more Henri could do but work out the details of her plan, but that could wait for the moment. Knowing Spencer would order Mahala to take them to the Union soon, she cleaned herself up and went to the ship in order to patch the worst of Tobias’s wounds before they left.
She found him chained to the cot in the infirmary, his face and hand still covered with blood, his broken arm field-dressed and strapped to his chest. And those were just the injuries she could see. She’d brought a bucket of water and clean cloths aboard with her but bustled around the cabin for a moment as she collected herself. Silliness. She could deal with Ever’s leg but not this?
No. She wanted to heal Ever. Tobias she wasn’t so sure about, but as a doctor it was her duty.
When she sat down next to him and pressed the first cloth against the cheek under his empty eye socket, she thought he’d passed out. Then his other eye blinked open. “Did you find it?”
“Find what?” Dipping the cloth in the water, she watched the blood swirl around before dabbing at his face once more.
“The research. Did you find the research for Ignazio Lupo?”
Even if the pain hadn’t rendered him unconscious, he was clearly in shock. “I am giving nothing to that lunatic. We killed his men. You were there, you saw it.”
Though it must have been agony, he shook his head. “No. You don’t understand. Gambini—”
“Is dead. I made sure he was in the middle of the blast zone. Now lie still so I can—”
Impossible as it seemed, he reached out with his injured hand and squeezed her wrist. “He can’t die. Do you hear me? He’ll be back.”
The bones in her wrist ground together, and Henrietta winced as she tried to weather the pain. Again, unlike Ever, she wasn’t willing to put up with this from him. “Tobias, you’re hurting me.”
“If you don’t give him the research, he’ll kill us all.”
“Let her go.” Carson’s voice came from the doorway, calm and authoritative.
Tobias’s eye rolled toward him. “You! You know what he is, what he’s capable of. Tell her.”
In an instant, Carson’s bulk towered over them and he shoved his thumb into the gaping wound in Tobias’s hand. “I told you to let her go.”
The lawyer cried out in agony, but at least he released her. Henri stepped back, massaging her wrist.
Carson leaned closer to him. “No man could survive being buried in that slide. Not even Gambini.”
“He’s not a man.”
Shoving away from the cot, Carson held out a hand to Henrietta. “Give me something to shut him up. He’s going to be like this the entire way back to Philadelphia otherwise.”
With a nod, she filled one of the syringes and gave it to him. As soon as Tobias lay still at last, she began working on him again. “Carson?” she asked, her voice trembling slightly, as he stepped toward the door. “What if he’s right?”
“Then we kill Gambini again. Eventually death will stick.” He lingered outside the infirmary, a shadow waiting to leap to her protection again. The moment she finished with St. Clair, Carson wrapped his arm around her waist and led her down the corridor, straight to her cabin, and pushed open the door.
Henri spun in the doorway, her hand pressed against the gleaming wood. As much as she’d been thinking of building a life that he could be part of, this was too fast, too much of a shift from lady to trollop. “Carson, I—”
Seleste deLaney - [Badlands 02] Page 18