Smoke Sky Page 5

  I knew better than to laugh at him. This was the most I’d gotten from Sawyer so far. I knew I had a better chance of coercing Nash, but I would take what I could from the fiery young man before taking advantage of the kinder one.

  “Well,” I said cautiously, “if that’s the case, you look like you need some help. It’s a big job.”

  “We’ll manage.”

  I quirked an eyebrow at him. “You can be in two places at once? Wow. Not even the Hellions can accomplish that.”

  From the way Sawyer bristled, I pushing my luck, but I wasn’t going to get anywhere by pretending I was a weak little girl who was afraid of shadows. Better just to be myself, and deal with the consequences.

  “There’s two of us,” he pointed out.

  “Right.” I popped another bite of bread into my mouth. It was a little hard, but compared to what I usually ate, it was sweet divinity. “How many times have you come back and seen something trashed or missing?”

  The marauder’s jaw twitched. His patience was thinning by the second. “If you’re asking to stay with us, the answer is no.”

  My heart sank for a moment. If I hadn’t already been snared by Fletcher and my brutish brothers, I would have begged to change his mind. The idea of getting fresh food regularly was a level of bliss I hadn’t known in years.

  But the situation was more complicated than that, and instead of negotiating with a psychotic “father,” I just had to deal with a cranky young pirate.

  There were worse situations to be in.

  I held Sawyer’s tawny eyes. “You saying that because you don’t like me, or you don’t think a girl can handle herself?”

  “Because I don’t like you. Being a girl has nothing to do with it.”

  “Aren’t you sweet.”

  “Sawyer, Gemma, come on,” Nash eased. “Can’t we just relax for a couple minutes?”

  We both ignored him. “If you’re going to repair a ship like the Dauntless, you need help. The Hove-porter suggests you want to move it off the street. Doing so in the rainy season is smart because the Hellions might not see you, and the survivors are going to be looking for supplies they can carry instead of scrap, but it will still take ages to get it to…” I looked at Nash. “Where are you taking it?”

  He hesitated, then took a breath.

  “Don’t say anything, Nash,” warned Sawyer.

  The bigger boy looked at his friend. “She’s got a point, Sawyer. We can’t keep getting the scrap metal and leaving the Dauntless alone.”

  “She’s not coming with us,” he snapped.

  “Where are you getting the scrap from?” I asked.

  “None of your business.”

  I huffed out a breath. “Fine, where are you hiding the pieces you find? The Junkyards? Hauling them from there must take hours, and you can’t use the Hove-porter to move the Dauntless if you waste all its power transporting supplies.”

  Sawyer was silent, though I couldn’t tell if it was because he was listening, or because he was annoyed.

  “I know every inch of the city,” I continued. “I’m always on the move, so I know which places are safe and which aren’t. I can tell you where to hide the parts you need,” I held my breath, “if you tell me where you’re destination is.”

  A muscle in Sawyer’s jaw twitched. Cold air was blowing in from the gouged exterior of the ship, but I could have argued that it was coming from Sawyer. The only sounds that could be heard were the steady flapping of the curtain hiding us and the low howl of the wind.

  After what seemed like forever, Sawyer gathered his things. He grabbed one of the lanterns, stood up, and walked away without uttering a single word. Old wood creaked from beyond the shadows, and a door shut on our left. I had no idea where he was going. I wasn’t about to ask.

  Nash sighed and scrubbed a hand over his face.

  “Sorry,” he muttered.

  “That should be my line,” I countered.

  He tried to smile, but it didn’t fit on his lips. “Your plan is a good one, Gemma. Sawyer just has trust issues.” Nash shook his head. “I’m surprised he trusts me as much as he does.”

  Before I could ask any other questions, Nash collected his food as well. He left the canteen of water for me. “I’ll go talk to him. You can change into the dry clothes now. I’ll bring you some blankets if I can find them. I’ll knock before I come in.”

  “Thanks, Nash.”

  He smiled and stood up, taking another lantern to light his way. As soon as I heard him leave the engine room, the faked mirth dropped from my lips. I finished eating the bread then stripped off my wet clothing with automatic movements, trying to tell myself that this was the only way I could gain my freedom from Fletcher and his twisted family. If I did this, I could escape Boyd’s coldness, Morris’ leers, and Tyler’s beatings.

  This is the right thing for me, I told myself, turning it into a mantra as I pulled Nash’s clothing over my body.

  He was right––the pants fell loosely around my hips, and I could have swum in the shirt. But they were soft and warm, and carried the smell of musk and something that reminded me of freshly turned soil. Scents of strength and hard work. I wouldn’t expect Nash to smell like anything else.

  I lay on my good side, mindful of my bruised ribs as I curled into a ball and let the clothes act as a blanket. I tugged over my bundled jacket and set it near my head, pulling one of the knives loose so I could grab it quickly if I needed to.

  The mantra faded from my mind.

  Chapter 5

  Something thick fell over my body, laid down slowly and cautiously. I couldn’t remember falling asleep, but I’d trained myself to wake at the first sign of a threat.

  Instinct kicked in, and I whirled around. My ankle hooked the back of a leg and pulled. There was a loud thud and a grunt as my would-be attacker landed on the ground. I reached for the wet heap of my jacket and drew the knife I’d hidden there, the one I’d failed to use on Morris and Tyler when it mattered. Adrenaline pounded through me as I flipped up and pounced on him, pressing my knife to his throat.

  Thick fingers wrapped around my wrist and held the knife away. The grip was strong, but it wasn’t hurting me. Though it was a warning that he could if I gave him a reason to.

  I blinked the red out of my vision. Nash watched my face from where he was pinned under me. There was no anger in his eyes. No betrayal or fear, or even resignation. I had a knife to his throat, and he was letting me hold it there.

  I jumped off Nash like he was on fire. I dropped the knife and shoved my hands through my hair.

  “Damn it, Nash, what were you thinking? I could have killed you.”

  He sat up in one smooth crunch, drawing my gaze to his enticingly broad shoulders. A playful grin spread over his dark lips.

  “No kidding,” he agreed. “We should have checked you for weapons.”

  He gave me a patient look. I sighed and removed the rest of the knives. Nash catalogued them with his eyes, but didn’t try to take them from me.

  “Anything else? Pistol, or brass knuckles?”

  “No, and who in their right mind uses brass knuckles?”

  As if waiting for a cue, Nash grinned and reached into his pocket. He waved a set of brass knuckles at me.

  “That’s…” I fumbled for the right words. “Highly impractical.”

  Nash laughed and stowed the brass knuckles into his pocket. “As for what I’m doing here,” he turned and dragged up a scrap of fabric almost as tall as me. It looked like the same material that curtained the gash in the hull, only smaller in size.

  “Said I’d find you a blanket, and this was the best I could do.”

  I took the fabric from him, suddenly remembering that he’d been putting it on me as I slept. He hadn’t wanted to disturb me, and I put a knife to his throat.

  “Not sure I deserve this right now,” I muttered.

  Nash dismissed my comment with a wave of his hand. “If I got mad at every person who pulled a knife
on me, I probably wouldn’t talk to anyone I saw.”

  I smirked warily. “Get threatened often, do you?”

  His smile was tired and sad. “Don’t we all?”

  I thought back to the sharp pain from Fletcher’s slap, the harsh dig of Tyler’s boot, and the rough grip Morris had on my body.

  “Yeah,” I said quietly. “I guess so.”

  Nash’s gaze lingered on me for a moment before he said, “We get it pretty bad sometimes. I think Sawyer gets a sick thrill in provoking people.”

  If his aim was to distract me from my unwanted memories, he was doing a damn good job.

  Too damn good, since he was telling me just what I wanted to know.

  “Why?” I asked. “Does he secretly crave beatings every now and again?”

  Nash’s smirk was tighter than before. Forced.

  “I think it’s all he knows. I doubt he’s had an easy life…” He turned his eyes down, thoughtful. “I haven’t known him long, but I trust him.”

  “Why?” I inquired, more curious than dutiful this time.

  Nash’s left hand covered his right arm. He rubbed the black dog tattoo embedded there. “He saved my life.”

  I sat patiently, waiting for him to elaborate. If he felt comfortable with me, there was still a chance I could pull my plan off. Maybe I could live with hating myself when I was free.

  “I used to be in the Stray Dogs. They picked me up after my family died in The Storm.”

  I winced. It wasn’t uncommon for marauder Clans to press-gang kids into working for them. Nash wasn’t much older than me, but he had muscle. He would have been a prime target.

  “What did you do for them?” I questioned hesitantly.

  Nash’s thumb rubbed the tattoo, though he wasn’t looking at it. “They put me in the Crater.”

  “The Crater?”

  He nodded. “It’s their entertainment. A fighting pit.”

  I cringed again. Fighting pits weren’t uncommon among marauder Clans. Even before The Storm, they’d been used to toughen up the pirates. Or to get rid of the weak.

  “The leader, Ryland, wanted me to move up the ranks,” Nash went on. “He told me to intimidate a farmer into giving up all his food stores to us. I refused, but he threatened my friend. Almost killed her in front of me.”

  His voice was heavy with regret. Randomly, I wondered if this woman was more than just a friend. If she was, she was a lucky woman. I envied her.

  “I couldn’t say no, so I went to do the job. But I came across Sawyer. We had it out, but a couple other Dogs showed up and took him down. They knew who he was. Ryland had a grudge against his father.”

  Nash’s thumb stilled. He didn’t lift his eyes. I waited.

  “I didn’t ask who he was. It wasn’t my business to know.”

  I watched him carefully, wondering if he would give in and take back his lie. I’d been around enough of them in my life to recognize the signs.

  Which made Fletcher’s hunch that I could be dealing with a Kendric more than likely. Nash’s defense of Sawyer was proof enough.

  Nash collected himself and took his hand away from his tattoo. “They were going to put him in the Crater. First he was going to fight me, then… everyone else. There wouldn’t have been a scrap of him left. I couldn’t live with that. So I made a plan with my friend, and we broke him out.”

  Nash rubbed his right shoulder with a grim smile. “Didn’t go as planned, though. I got shot. Would have died if Sawyer hadn’t lured our pursuers into a trap. A trap he made with the damn Hellions, of all things.”

  I couldn’t hold back my shock. “What?”

  He grinned, liking my reaction. “That’s what I said. But he tricked them into attacking our hunters and got us to safety. He brought me to the Dauntless, patched me up. I’ve been with him ever since.”

  It truly was an amazing story, and made me admire Sawyer a little bit more. I still thought he was a cranky, arrogant jerk, but I respected him. That was more than I could say for anyone in my “family.”

  “But doesn’t it ever get hard? Living the way you do?”

  A trace of sadness crept over his eyes, darkening his smile. “Every day. But it’s a life I never thought I would have. I don’t have to worry about getting stabbed in the back after I win a fight. I don’t have to watch my friend hide bruises she thinks no one will see. I’m actually part of something.” The smile widened, but the sorrow remained. “Though for the life of me, I have no idea what it could be.”

  I tried to laugh, but it hitched in my throat.

  “Gemma? Are you okay?”

  I pulled my knees up to my chest and wrapped my arms around them.

  “If…” I took a deep breath and forced the words out. “If you had the chance to be part of something bigger, would you take it? You and Sawyer both?”

  “Bigger how?”

  I sighed, knowing I’d have to tell some truths if I had any chance of coercing them into Fletcher’s hands.

  “I know this guy. Fletcher.” I glanced at Nash. He gave no indication that he recognized the name. “He used to be get intelligence and information for the Sky Guard. Offered me food and shelter. A… family. He’s a good man.”

  A good man who beats me and wants to make me a breeding factory for him and his sons. I doubted I would win Nash over if I told him the truth. Unlike Fletcher, Nash was a good person. And I was trying to destroy him.

  “Well, I can’t speak for Sawyer. Wouldn’t be worth his pouting,” he said with a grin. “But he desperately wants to rebuild this ship,” Nash flicked his eyes around the dark room, “and he can’t do it alone. I wasn’t a marauder before The Storm. I don’t know a damn thing about keeping it from falling apart. He needs more help, but he’s too stubborn to accept it.”

  Right then, I knew what the answer was going to be. Sawyer would never abandon the Dauntless Wanderer, for whatever reason, and Nash had given his loyalty. The sympathetic look in his eyes confirmed it. I couldn’t convince them by asking nicely. Even if I went to Sawyer and argued exactly what Nash said––that it took more than two people to run a ship––I knew Sawyer would refuse. He didn’t trust or like me, and I hadn’t done anything to earn it in his eyes. Not like Nash had.

  I sighed and ran my hands through my hair. This was going to get a lot more complicated.

  “Gemma?”

  I grabbed the blanket and started unfolding it. The fabric was big enough that I could wrap my entire body in it. Between that and Nash’s dry clothes, I might actually be able to stay warm.

  “Gemma, what’s wrong?” He sounded closer than before. I continued setting up my blankets.

  Everything. “Nothing.”

  A gentle hand curled over my shoulder. I froze in place. I was glad he couldn’t see my face. I was fighting to get control again, to remember how to be strong. It didn’t seem to work around him.

  “Those guys…” Nash said quietly. “It wasn’t the first time they harassed you, was it?”

  “How do you know?”

  “My friend Sonya would get the same look you did after someone hurt her. You just told me you were trying to find a family.” He gently squeezed my shoulder. “You’re in trouble, aren’t you?”

  This time, I didn’t see the point in lying. “Yes.”

  Silence passed through the air around us. For a moment, I wanted to let go. Fall into Nash’s arms, have him hold me and tell me it would be all right. I knew he would. No matter how tough he looked, Nash had a bendable heart. He couldn’t sit back and let someone suffer if he thought he could do something about it.

  He was falling straight into my trap.

  I heard him take a breath, ready to offer his help the way all knights in shining armor did.

  “I’ll take care of it,” I said before he could speak. “I’ve been taking care of myself for a while now. I just… I just need to catch my breath.”

  Nash’s hand lingered for another moment, then moved away.

  “Okay. I’ll
let you get some rest.”

  I nodded my thanks, instantly missing his presence when he stood up, took his lantern, and walked for the door. Before he reached it, he turned back to me. The heartfelt look in his eyes crushed me.

  “You aren’t alone, Gemma. Not while you’re here.”

  I nodded as though I was grateful. Nash’s eyes sparkled before he walked away.

  He bought it.

  I heard a door close softly over my head. I flopped onto the blanket and grabbed the fabric with my fists and teeth. The cloth muffled my outraged scream.

  Damn my brothers for pushing me to the breaking point. Damn Fletcher for using me so easily. Damn Nash for all his kindness and promises.

  Damn me for wanting to believe them.

  Chapter 6

  Sawyer’s surly attitude was unchanged in the morning as the rain poured over the city outside in buckets.

  His wanting to go to a Junkyard for scrap metal didn’t surprise me. His asking me to come with them did.

  Apparently, I couldn’t be trusted to stay alone and watch the Dauntless––a smart move, because I couldn’t be––but if I intended to stay with them, I had to do some heavy lifting.

  I had no problem with that. In fact, I welcomed it and the distraction.

  The Junkyard that Sawyer and Nash chose to steal from was a small one near the industrial district. The Junkers who lived in the Junkyards were clusters of men and women who had no problem taking advantage of any situation in their path. They mostly dealt with Electricians, often watching them as they took parts for their equipment in exchange for some kind of hand-made device. Even marauders were careful around them. The Junkers lived on scraps and never left their garbage piles. That made food scarce for them, since most smart survivors hoarded whatever food they could find.

  It was rumored that the Junkers had turned into cannibals.

  So why Sawyer elected to steal from them was beyond me.

  When I asked him, he gave me a wicked, mischievous look.

  “Because they have every part I can think of, and if the theft goes badly, we have a thousand places to run.”