A Tale of Two Airships (Take to the Skies Book 2) (13 page)

Footsteps behind drew my attention.

I whirled around. The gypsy’s teeth flashed in a triumphant smile, his worn boots scraping against the planks as he raced towards me. Moonlight illuminated the length of the knives in his hands. Dropping the rifle to the ground, I snagged my boot knife in one sweeping motion, ready to give what for. Gypsies might be known for nimble fingers when it came to blades, but I had one advantage on my side. For stealing my home from under me, they’d struck a blazing rage inside, and fury wielded a fiercer blade than cold hands.

Close quarters, guns weren’t weapons of choice, but I’d got in more fistfights than I could count. If he wanted a brawl, he’d get one. As he charged to tackle, the glint of those knives gave his movements away. He aimed to slice one arm then the next, incapacitate me in a heartbeat.

Not if I had a say. Ducking down, instead of veering away I dove forward into a headbutt. My skull rammed into his chest with a solid thud, and the breath wheezed from him.

In the same forward motion, I plunged my knife down.

He let out a howl as the tip of my knife sank into the flesh of his thigh, and as I rebounded, the blade dragged an ugly crimson trail down his breeches.

The second I staggered away, his knives slithered out, seeking vulnerable points. I stumbled out of the trajectory but not fast enough, and those keen edges created thin stinging slices across my biceps.

He darted back again, and we circled, both waiting for the other to leap in first. His dark eyes glittered in the overbearing night, and the shadows cast his bronze skin in a purplish hue. While scanning the man, details popped out—the same tattoo as the others and the way his fingers twirled the knives, ready to toss them. This was perfect throwing distance.

I snorted, not bothering to hide my amusement. He tilted his head, hands in motion and ready to attack. Let him have the upper hand. I lowered my knife to my side, clutching it with the same wary caution as before. He stared me down, but after a minute of inaction, I caught the glint of the blade edge in motion.

Exactly what I waited for.

The knife sailed towards me, but I knocked it out of the way.

Of course he’d follow with the second right after.

However, I drew quicker than most. My pistol in hand, I squeezed the trigger, sealing his fate. The tip of the blade buried into my thigh as I set into motion, but my shot hit the mark. The bullet burrowed into his chest, and he collapsed to the ground, blood forming an inky pool on the planks. 

“Come on now, Bea,” a voice sounded behind me, so familiar my heart stammered and my chest ached. “Save some for the rest of us.”

Geoff.

Chapter Thirteen

I whirled around. The same half-smile lit Geoff’s face as the other day when I’d left him aboard the Desire to go deal with Isabella’s ex and the other gypsies. Even in the dark of night, his eyes shone when they locked with mine, and all the tension bubbling inside me melted away like spilled sunshine.

His tan slacks had seen more than a couple wrinkles, and he leaned on his right side—based on the tattered gap on his left pant-leg I assumed they’d slung a couple fists and caused some problems once they’d woken up. The long strands of his hair drifting over his brows made me want to brush them away, and even though lines around his eyes revealed his weariness, he beamed at me as if nothing had happened. As if no time lapsed between us. But then again, that’s how we’d always been.

I opened my mouth, ready to say something when the flash of motion cut me off.

“Duck,” I shouted, tackling him. While I would’ve preferred some one on one time in my bunk by way of greeting, in the middle of seizing our ship back, this had to suffice. His cinnamon scent wrapped around me, as much an elixir of home as the lemon and ozone coming off the ship. A single bullet thudded into the ground beside us, sending splinters in its wake.

From above. The sharpshooter on the Crow’s Nest had returned.

Rolling off Geoff, I scrambled for the AK-551 lying feet away. With one quick tug, I dragged it my way and passed it over. “Arm yourself, soldier. We’ve got a ship to take back.” I flashed him a huge grin, feeling the grip of insanity bubble inside me again. Geoff by my side and the Desire under my feet—those sent my confidence skyrocketing.

He needed no prompting, shouldering the rifle as if it weighed nothing. I directed with a sharp nod to the stack of crates I’d hidden behind before, and we skipped to a fast retreat. Another bullet whistled by my ear, much too close for comfort. Not like I didn’t appreciate the beauty of the weapon he held, but carrying Matilda felt more natural than any gussied up rifle.

I peeked out from the crates to spot the sniper’s aim. Along the deck, the one gypsy still manned the wheel, but everyone avoided him—he’d be the last hit in the takeover—after all, we had some manner of self-preservation. One of the gypsy guys gurgled in a pool of his own blood, a telltale gash striping him from throat to groin. Mordecai’s blade dripped red as he hadn’t even bothered cleaning it before whirling around to greet the next enemy. Bullets whistled through the air from either side, creating an airborne minefield for everyone involved. 

Isabella had done her job. I spotted Edwin’s lanky frame crouching by the navigation bay. He pushed his glasses up on the bridge of his nose and peeked out every five seconds or so as if tempted to join in the fight. Jack led Abigail and Cobb against a throng of three gypsies who encroached. One by one, our crew trickled up from below deck as more and more escaped their bonds. So far though, fewer gypsies manned the ship than I expected, and not many hid below. I’d spent too long in the field to believe in good fortune, but with my crew by my side, on our terrain, those gypsies better pray to whatever gods they worshipped.

Beside me, Geoff peered over the crates, scoping the shooter from above. He’d switched attention away from us the moment we hid behind the crates, changing targets to an easier mark. The muzzle of his rifle aimed straight at one of the only gypsies we wanted to keep—Isabella. Faster than words, my pistol came out, and I squeezed the trigger. Beside me, the kick of the AK-551 barked, and a smattering of rounds rioted through the air with more of a promise and range than my pistol could hope for.

Alerted by the noise, Isabella tumbled out of the way.

Our lone gunsman didn’t stand a chance at the round Geoff buried into him. The bullets ripped through flesh, and before the red stain spread, he lost his balance and toppled over the side of the Crow’s Nest. His body hit the ground with a wet smack drawing everyone’s attention.

“Where’s Spade?” Geoff asked as he scanned the deck.

“Your boyfriend’s safe.” I rolled my eyes. “Us dastardly pirate types decided to commandeer ourselves a ship.”

A grin tugged his lips as he peered above the stack, choosing his next target. “You would.” From this vantage point we could pick them off one by one. After all, we had high-powered illegal weaponry and a bunch of raging pirates on our side. Though I think the illegal weaponry pulled more weight.

From Jack’s corner, a shout ripped through the air—one of the gypsy bastards sank his knives into Abigail. My stomach tightened. As much as I’d love to hide behind here and pick them off, time wasn’t on our side. That was a lie—I hated hiding away. Time to plunge into the thick of it again.

“Watch my back, boy-o.” I patted Geoff on the shoulder and darted into the fray.

“Always do,” he called. I hid my smirk and lifted Matilda as I charged. Bullets whizzed overhead from the sloppy shot of some asshole, but I’d caught his attention too late.

Jack, Abigail, and Nathaniel fought against three gypsies. While they were holding their own, they sustained a fair share of injuries. After those knives met their mark, Abigail crouched behind the two guys, clutching her stomach. I didn’t like the looks of her wound.

“All of you leaving me out of the party? Color me insulted,” I shouted out, drawing attention my way. The whirring noise was the one heads up I got as a knife sailed towards me. Thankfully I trained with a gypsy knife fighter on a regular basis, so I swerved out of the way. They could be the best in the world with a blade, but as for distance, gun beat knife ten out of twelve times.

My pistol’s hammer clicked as I targeted the incriminating knife hurler. I let one loose and pounded the planks again rather than offering them a pretty as a picture target. Racing to the right side, I met Jack’s eyes and cued him to the other. He followed my lead at once—the boy had shaped into quite a recon man—and booked it for the other side. Distraction from both ends left the injured in the middle alone.

I spotted the gun too late.

The gypsy to my right lifted it, and the black muzzle glared straight at me.

Until a spray of fast and fiercer bullets burrowed into his chest. The man dropped like a stone, and the pistol fell with a clatter out of his lifeless hands. Cinnamon warmth flushed through my chest—I knew who watched my back.

Not wasting time, I aimed Matilda at the next target. My bullet buried into his neck at the same point Jack’s burrowed into his thigh. Between the two, he was dead man walking for all of five seconds before he hit the deck. Nathaniel looped his arm around Abigail and lifted her up, carrying her towards the railing and away from all the stray bullets. I caught the growing dark stain on her blouse, and my stomach tightened. Those wounds could turn into a tightrope fast.

A sword flashed in my peripheral.

However, no one moved that fast but Mordecai. In seconds, another body smacked against the ground.

Crouched and ready for the next foe to come at me, I soaked in my surroundings. The wind stirred a little faster, causing the planks to groan. The ship shifted, tilting to the right due to the inexperience of the idiot trying to pilot my ship. A couple lanterns cast their shallow rays along the deck, illuminating the blackish blood splattered all across the planks. The iron and lacquer stench of the carnage wafted up to be stolen moments later by the breeze. Strands of my hair whipped around, several plastering on my forehead.

Though I’d been distracted by the immediate threats, I sensed the tension brimming in the air. We had to commandeer our ship and fast, because by the Gods, I didn’t want to be caught in a storm with a novice at the helm.

Across the deck, only a couple gypsies still remained upright. The two who fought with Isabella backed away the second they caught on we’d annihilated their friends. Geoff crouched behind the crates with his muzzle aimed and smoking. I’d stake my lucky cameo to guess he’d been responsible for several of the newer bodies littering the ground. And of course, by the helm, the one gypsy concentrated ahead, though his continued glances in our direction implied he was shaking in those posh leather boots. 

“Don’t worry, darling, I’ll come to your rescue,” I called out to Isabella. Both gypsies glanced my way and paled a few shades. Not like I didn’t cut an imposing figure, but they faced Geoff, Mordecai, Jack, and more of my crew who were pissed off six ways to sailing day. They didn’t need to read their cards to see they were fucked.

Not like they’d let us go without a fight. The guy closest to Isabella reached for his holster, but on the quickdraw, I was faster.

Matilda barked, and the bullet followed my aim. His hand jumped away from his side, and droplets of blood flew through the air with the movement. The gun fell useless to the ground, and with a quick spin, Isabella’s movement ended with a dagger sprouting from his jugular. Jack shot at the other guy, though the bullet whizzed by his ear, a miss, albeit close. Mordecai began closing the gap. Once he made it within striking distance, the gypsy was good as dead.

Geoff had left his cover by the crates and already began taking the strides towards the helm. My heart bounced in my chest as I detached from the main group to join him. We had one final gypsy to deal with. A quick glance to the sky confirmed my need for urgency. Due to the dark night the gradation of the clouds hadn’t tipped me off, but a tension buzzed through the accelerated breeze, one that prickled my skin too many times before to miss. If a storm brewed, apart from Spade, I only trusted one other man at the helm of my girl.

Taking several longer strides, I caught up with Geoff quick, falling in line to his pace. “Heads or tails, winner gets the kill,” I murmured as we approached.

“You’ll rig the game by stirring up so much trouble you’re the sole person who’ll manage to get us out of the mess you’ve caused.” A smile hovered on his lips. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

My grin matched his. “You keep saying trouble like it’s a bad thing. Speaking of, how do you feel about navigating us out of a storm?”

“Always an adventure, dear.” He lifted his AK-551 and aimed.

The gypsy at the helm let go of the wheel and backed away. Too bad I wasn’t in a forgiving mood.

To my pride, the bullet buried deep in his chest about the same time as the round from the AK. Not like she fired faster than a machine gun, but I was one hell of a quick draw. Though the guy hit the ground with a thud, the Desire wasn’t going unmanned. Geoff stepped to the helm with the comfort of command—after all, this was his domain for so many years the job became second nature.

The clash of weapons and shouts of battle all died down, and the overwhelming silence to follow promised greater violence—nature’s own brand. For a few precious moments, I stood there staring at the stars, distant and cold. My shoulder ached something fierce, and as the adrenaline wave crashed, the pinned-back pain returned with it. All across my deck lay the carnage we’d created, but as always, we did what we had to keep flying.

“Crew,” I called out, “let’s begin hauling these bodies overboard.” Delivering orders came naturally with my boots planted firm on my ship. While the Desire soared off without me, I was lost, abandoned, but now standing here, my confidence returned. I was her Captain.

Mordecai led the charge, dragging the nearest body by the shirt over towards the rails. Jack and Isabella followed suit. Edwin saluted me, catching my gaze before he booked it towards Abigail. Of course, our Doc would seek out his newest patient.

“Take care of her, Edwin,” I called out. He tossed a hand up in response, while Nathaniel lifted her, heading towards the steps below.

Making my way to the rails, I gripped them and leaned over. Off to the side, the Fireswamp maintained a steady pace. Spade stood there alone at the helm, cutting the same solid figure he did aboard here. I saluted to him when our eyes met, and he nodded in response. We had to navigate our way away from whatever impending weather this tense change promised, because we weren’t only navigating the Desire, but Spade managed the Fireswamp all by his lonesome.

Shaking my head, I made my way to Jack and the others. While our stubborn helmsman would protest and claim he was fine alone, if we were facing a storm, I needed someone on deck there with him. After all, fast maneuvers were a two man job. Once I scanned the perimeter the realization hit me—where was Adelle? Hopefully hiding below away from the violence.

I clapped a hand on Jack’s shoulder. “Jackie-boy, I’ll need you to join Spade for a little while.”

He opened his mouth, the protest clear as day on his face. After all, he’d just arrived home—who in their right mind would want to leave so soon? I lifted my brows and crossed my arms over my chest. Like it or not, someone had to. The protest melted from his face with the unspoken understanding, and he nodded. “Yes, Captain.” Within seconds, he’d taken off for the railing, fixed his grappling hook, and began the descent.

I scanned the horizon as we sailed ahead. What direction were the stronger gusts coming from?

The first boom of a storm quaked through the air, reverberating through the bones of the Desire.