by Jory Strong
Makayla was already seated. She didn't acknowledge Ella.
Jacob dropped into the chair next to his aunt. Josiah stopped behind Ella's chair and placed his hands on her shoulders.
Her throat clogged with longing. His spice-and-leather scent invaded her senses, becoming smoky desire that spread into her breasts, her belly, the place between her thighs.
"Wearing Jax's color on the day after our marriage might be viewed as a challenge," he said.
The smoldering heat in his voice was produced by her imagination. It had to be though she would take advantage of the opening, even if it meant swallowing some of her pride.
"The few blue garments I have are stained and torn from my work. I thought I'd go into the marketplace today and purchase a few items."
"We'll go together, and take Jacob."
Her traitorous heart fluttered like a pigeon fluffing its wings.
Jacob bounced up and down with delight.
Rosa emerged from the kitchen carrying a platter of breakfast burritos.
Josiah took his seat, and as he'd done the night before, served Ella and Jacob before serving himself.
Her gaze flicked to his face and the fluttering in her chest intensified. He was probably making some kind of statement to his people by accompanying Jacob and her to the marketplace. Or maybe he meant to prevent her from hearing rumors.
She looked away. Saw that it was okay to eat with her hands rather than use a knife and fork.
Flavor burst across her tongue with the first bite of burrito. The tortilla held egg, small cubes of potato, cheese, avocado and salsa that had a nice burn.
It was delicious, comforting, and she wondered if Rosa had prepared it knowing that it would ease the beginning of the day. If so, there was nothing in Rosa's face to reveal that she'd gone to bed leaving Ella and Jacob on the couch, and gotten up to find Ella climbing the stairs, still wearing the wedding dress. Or that Josiah had only just come home.
Jacob slid from his chair, too excited to sit.
Ella encouraged him back onto the chair, telling him that getting food on the floor and having to stop and clean it would only delay their leaving for the marketplace.
Moments later, he slid from the chair again.
She urged him to sit.
He sat with a huff, stuffed his mouth so his cheeks puffed.
"Are you pretending to be a mouse so I won't notice the next time you get out of your seat?" she teased.
He giggled.
"A mouse wouldn't dare step foot in Rosa's house," Josiah said, his amusement like warm arms wrapping around Ella, tightening so the shield she'd erected against him weakened.
"Would she chase a mouse with a wooden spoon, Papa?"
Even Makayla's mouth curved into a smile.
Rosa shook her head. "A mouse would require a broom."
Josiah directed a smile at Jacob that warmed Ella from head to toe. "Don't think to catch a mouse and bring it in so you can see Rosa give chase. A mouse wouldn't be the only thing she would flatten."
Jacob giggled and held out his arms, slapping one hand onto the other. "This is what she'd do to me."
"Absolutamente. And that would give your new mama nightmares. Isn't that so?"
Josiah's eyes caught hers and all the reasons to guard her heart melted away. "Absolutamente," she said, blushing, longing blooming in her chest and sliding molten into her stomach.
She ducked her head, unwilling to reveal her vulnerability.
They finished breakfast and she said, "I'll help with the dishes."
Rosa shooed them away. "Go. Go. You and Josiah take Jacob to the marketplace."
"I need to grab my satchel," Ella said, her footsteps light as she hurried to get it. Hope rising as she quickly climbed the steps.
Maybe the business with Rapp had kept Josiah away all night and taken him to the stronghold when it was finished. It made sense that he'd have a change of clothes there, even a room so he could take wom—
She needed to stop tormenting herself with those thoughts. Josiah was home and the man at the breakfast table acted like one who wanted to be a husband and father.
* * *
Josiah resisted the urge to go after Ella on the pretense of demanding she wear blue. He didn't trust himself to be in the same room with her as she changed the dress.
When she'd blushed and looked away, suddenly consumed by the task of eating… Dios, he'd wanted to sweep her into his arms and carry her to the bedroom. He'd wanted to banish the shadows still lurking beneath her eyes.
"We'll wait for your new mama at the front door," Josiah said and the boy raced from the room like a prisoner freed from jail.
At the front door, Jacob fidgeted, worried at shirt buttons before pulling a rag from a pocket and twisting it, hopping from one foot to the other until Josiah put his hand on the boy's head to still his movement.
Jacob's gaze jerked upward, fell away though he leaned in, his small body lightly pressed to Josiah's leg and hip, jolting him with the realization that the boy craved contact and he'd withheld it. He tousled Jacob's hair, and said, "I hear your mama coming."
Ella's footsteps were light on the stairs. She emerged from the stairwell and joined them at the door, the glow on her face eradicating the shadows that had been there earlier. And once again, Josiah fought the urge to sweep her into his arms and carry her to the bedroom.
Jacob took her hand and they left the house.
"This way," Josiah said, guiding them across what had once been a wide street rather than heading for one of the doors into the maze.
Unlike other warlords, he didn't surround himself with dozens of men just to enter the marketplace. But his wife and son were another matter.
They climbed stairs to what might once have been a courtyard or a restaurant patio. Reached a heavy steel door.
Josiah opened it and they entered a stairwell landing. He took a candle from a basket and lit it before allowing the door to close.
They went down, the candle no match against the blackness, its light disappearing barely a few steps away.
At the bottom of the staircase, the air smelled damp, earthy. They crossed what had once been an underground parking garage.
Another heavy metal door guarded the entrance to another stairwell. He opened it and they climbed upward.
Landings held the doors to treasure rooms and armories. When they reached the top, they entered the stronghold on the floor he'd given Ella a tour of.
He led them to the training room. There were sixteen or seventeen young boys, and three girls, some watching while others practiced fighting moves.
Ricardo, the teen who'd foolishly bet Ciro in the bar, didn't block another boy's attack in time. The punch doubled him over and a leg sweep sent him to the floor. He lay there on his back, arms and legs splayed wide.
"Get the fuck up and try again!" Ciro yelled, before glancing at Josiah. "You need me?"
"No." Others of his soldiers were gathered, he scanned them. "Nessa. Blaine."
Blaine pushed off from the wall and strode over. Nessa put her hand on the shoulder of one of the girls, leaned in and gave encouragement, the beads in her multitude of braids clicking.
"Where to?" Blaine asked.
"The marketplace."
Blaine grinned, a question in his eyes. Showing off the new wife?
Nessa said, "Saul's here, you want me to get him?"
Josiah shook his head. "No. I don't expect trouble."
* * * * *
Chapter 12
The marketplace was crowded, scented by the smell of cooking meats. The noise level dropped with their arrival, then increased, titters marking the speculation at seeing Ella in Jax's color.
Josiah placed his hand on the center of her back, and even that small amount of contact had heat traveling up his arm and into his chest. "You'll leave the marketplace wearing blue, mami."
She glanced at him, blue eyes like pools of sky a man could drown in. "What does that mean? Mami?"<
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Jacob piped up, "It means he thinks you're sexy. That's like being beautiful."
Her eyes widened with surprise then dipped with disbelief. She looked down.
Jacob said, "I want to show you something, Mama."
"Okay."
Men, women and children parted, making way, many of them offering nods of respect and some, especially the older women and married women, smiled at Jacob with his new mother.
Josiah scanned for threats. There were none. But that didn't diminish the feeling of being watched and judged, not as warlord but as a father and husband.
He stroked his thumb across Ella's spine and her soft inhalation brought a smile. The sudden bloom of color in her cheeks reminded him of the times she'd distracted him when he was trying to do business with her father.
She had to know she was beautiful. If she'd been on this side of the wall, she'd have already been in his bed.
The guilt of the night before crept in like an assassin.
A woman left alone on her wedding night might believe her husband found her unattractive and preferred another.
He shunted the guilt aside. By tomorrow morning, she wouldn't doubt her desirability.
The closer they got to a tarped stall that looked like a large tent, the more obvious it became that it was filled with birds. When they entered, a thin man stood so abruptly that his chair toppled backward, startling an old blind terrier lying on a blanket. The dog coughed out three barks then vigorously scratched its side.
Nessa and Blaine stopped just inside the entranceway. He and Ella followed Jacob to a cage full of finches.
The small green and blue birds hopped from perch to perch to perch. Josiah studied the boy, trying to fathom what had drawn him to this stall.
Memory crept in, of lying naked with Geneva on a blanket in the rubble of a different territory. They'd both been half drunk on cheap liquor and sex.
Someone's hen had wandered into the ruin. She'd picked up his gun, aimed and fired, laughed at missing and laughed harder at hitting the bird—and he'd laughed with her, because she could do no wrong.
"Papa," Jacob said, drawing him from the memory and to a cage containing smaller parrots with red masks.
Ella said, "These are cherry-headed conures. They were once a big deal in a city called San Francisco."
On a table next to the caged conures was a deep wooden box. Jacob cast a glance at Josiah but said to Ella, "I can't see."
She lifted the boy and held him against her hip. Downy chicks lay in a grassy nest.
"What are they?" Jacob asked.
She said, "Peregrine falcon chicks, I think."
"Can I touch them?"
The shopkeeper joined them, holding a small plate of shredded rabbit meat. "If someone guides your hand, you can offer them some food."
Jacob snatched up a piece of meat. "Please, Mama."
"We'll need to be careful."
She closed her hand around the boy's and guided it down to the chicks. Hungry mouths opened and snapped.
Jacob jerked away at the unexpected aggressiveness, squared his shoulders and bravely fed the birds, filling Josiah with pride.
When the platter was empty, Ella set Jacob on the floor. He wiped his fingers on his jeans. She grimaced but didn't reprimand the boy.
Perched on stands and hooded were two young red-tailed hawks. "Can I feed them?" Jacob asked.
The shopkeeper said, "The warlord will have to answer that question."
Josiah placed his hand on Jacob's head. "Not today."
Ella was already moving toward the coops that took up one side of the wall. They were filled with exotic pigeons.
Their unique appearance made them safer to own. A city spy wouldn't choose birds so easily noticed, though his men took note of who owned pigeons and who used them as messengers. Not that any bird would be spared from being roasted if someone was hungry enough—and as a boy, there'd been plenty of times when he'd been grateful to present Rosa with a pigeon to cook.
Jacob hurried to join Ella. She pushed her fingers through an opening in the wire and gently stroked the head of a golden-yellow bird. "You don't find many this color."
"A cousin of mine raises them," the shopkeeper said.
"They're called mustard homers," she told Jacob, pulling her fingers from that cage and slipping them into the one to the right. "These are called blue grizzled flyers because they're bluish gray with black flecks in their feathers."
The birds in the next coop were snow white, and next to them, heavy-bodied pigeons that were navy blue with head feathers that glimmered.
"What about these?" Jacob asked.
"They're called blue eagles."
Jacob moved ahead of her to a cage full of white pigeons with black wings and backs. "What are these called?"
"Saddle pigeons." She moved to the final coop. "And these are Red M's."
Jacob's lips pursed. "They're brown."
She smiled. "In this light they are. In other light you'd see hints of red. They're actually a color called burnt sienna, which means reddish brown."
"What does the M stand for?"
"I think it stood for someone's name, before the Final War. People used to race pigeons as a sport."
"How far?"
"It varied, but some of the birds went as far as a thousand miles."
"You know your birds, Lady," the shopkeeper said, deep respect in his voice.
"It was my job to care for my father's pigeons."
Jacob turned toward Josiah. "Do we have pigeons?"
"Yes."
"Who takes care of them?"
"Blaine and Nessa."
"Can I help keep them?"
Josiah glanced toward the tent doorway where Blaine and Nessa stood guard. He lifted an eyebrow.
Blaine said, "It's okay by me."
Nessa nodded her agreement.
Ella reached into the coop and stroked one of the Red M's before turning away and telling the shopkeeper that he had beautiful birds.
He accompanied them as they headed toward the doorway. The old terrier was still scratching vigorously. When they reached him, Ella stopped and fished around in her satchel, pulling out a small brown bottle.
"Jacob and I would like to thank you for letting us feed the chicks." She opened the bottle. "A few drops of this between your dog's shoulder blades will make him feel better."
The old dog had scratched until he was bloody in spots. The stall owner held out his hand and Ella measured out a few drops of an oily substance onto his fingertips. He knelt next to the dog. She said, "Try to get as much of it as you can onto the skin."
The man nodded, used his other hand to part the wiry hair then applied the potion. The dog's hind leg halted mid-scratch. He sighed, laid his head on the old blanket and closed his eyes.
"I'll check in on him in a week or so," Ella said.
"I'd appreciate it, Lady."
Ella slipped the bottle back into her satchel and they left the stall. Jacob said, "The shopkeeper's head looks like a nest. Did you see that, Mama? How it was bare in the middle but had hair in a circle?"
"I saw it, and I'm glad you waited until we were outside to mention it."
"Do you think he keeps it that way to attract birds?"
Blaine snorted and soared his hand over Jacob's head. "Target is locked on. Fire!"
He fisted his hand. Dropped it.
"Splat," he said when it landed on Jacob's head.
Jacob giggled.
Josiah shook his head. "Is that supposed to be an egg?"
"Bird poop."
Jacob shrieked and jerked away. "Gross!"
"You are so juvenile," Nessa said.
Blaine's hand took flight again, sending Jacob running in circles around them, trying to avoid another bomb.
"Dresses next?" Josiah asked, and caught Blaine's quick smile at the perceived need to show ownership.
Ella clutched the satchel to her chest, color crawling up her neck. "Why don't you take Jac
ob to look at toys?"
Blaine's smile widened.
Nessa's lips firmed with caution and too much time in Saul's presence.
Josiah dismissed the worry that his new wife intended to meet with someone planted by Merati. "Oh no, this is my reward for coming to the marketplace."
The color in her face deepened. Her eyes lingered on his, hopeful and holding the same hint of disbelief he'd seen earlier at learning the translation of mami.
Her gaze skittered away. "Can you recommend a shop? Somewhere with a dressing room?"
He pointed to the right, at the buildings beyond the marketplace. "That way."
A path cleared when it became obvious the direction he intended to go. They reached the first of the shops, one kept by a beautiful blonde who usually invited DeAngelo into the back room when he came to collect the required tribute.
Through the window, Josiah saw a brown-haired clerk hustle into the back to summon the shopkeeper. His business was coveted, not only because of the prestige but because he paid rather than demanded goods.
He allowed those in his warren to prosper if they had the business sense and the work ethic. The same could not be said of other warlords.
His warren was survivable. Many were not.
He didn't tolerate slavery in his territory. He didn't send children to search for treasure in bombed-out ruins on the verge of collapse.
He didn't reap the beautiful as if his people were a crop to harvest. He didn't force women into brothels or sell them to the privileged behind the wall.
The blonde shopkeeper emerged from the back room wearing a dark blue dress that hugged her figure and displayed the upper curve of her breasts.
Ella rubbed a palm over the dark green dress and said, "I'd like to look at the other stores before deciding on one."
"You can shop at them all."
Blaine groaned. Nessa grimaced, her beaded hair clacked with the small negative shake of her head.
Ella moved to the next shop, peered through the window and pulled the door open before he could grasp the doorknob.
"Stay outside," he told Blaine and Nessa.
"What about me, Papa?"
"You can choose."
Jacob looked into the store, wrinkled his nose. "I'll stay outside."