An Airship Named Desire (Take to the Skies Book 1) (12 page)

“I scouted out the spot yesterday,” I spoke before my sluggish mind caught up. “Unfortunately, so did Jensen, so here’s what you need to know. We’ll split up by the warehouse. I’ll need you, Seth, to take the rooftops. You’re an excellent sniper shot, and that’s what we need there.” Seth grunted, but his arms remained folded over his chest, and he didn’t protest.

“Isabella, you’ll take the docking bay and find cover by the crates. That way if anyone’s stationed on the roof you can aid Seth. It also gives you a clear shot at anyone entering or exiting the buildings.” She nodded, and I turned to Geoff. “You’ll follow me into the building. I scouted it out, so I remember the crate positioning and the layout.”

“How do we know Jensen will show?” Isabella asked.

“He has to if he wants the payoff, because the exchange requires him to be there with the cargo. We have that in our favor. If anything goes foul though and they planned a double cross, take the employer’s men out. We just want Jensen and the box, those are the priorities.” My chest burned. “And when we find Jensen—I’ll kill him myself.” Three grim expressions stared back at me. “Ready crew? We protect ours, so I don’t want any heroics. We’re all coming back,” I said. Isabella bit her lip hard, and Seth’s eyes widened.

My own stomach flopped, realizing whose words I repeated, whose mantra had become such an integral part of my own, and whose boots would never pound these planks again. I clenched and unclenched my hand to keep myself together.

“Let’s move out.” My words rolled out smoother than a steam engine. I placed my hands on the rungs of the ladder, and we descended. 

Chapter Twelve

We treaded over the familiar boardwalk I’d crossed yesterday with Jensen. An aching bitterness simmered through my body, and I grasped onto that because anger dried the sodden rag’s worth of tears I bottled away. Anger kept me from breaking down. Early dawn’s dew-laden fog had dissipated, but the thinned air didn’t change the sober atmosphere. No one spoke, but I didn’t think any of us could. The events of the night robbed us of words.

A bloody sunrise broke over the sky and pressured the ocean with its carmine hues while wisps of daylight glided over the boardwalk as we headed to the warehouse district. The bursting melon of a sun littered pink and crimson pulp across the horizon this dawn. I gulped hard and tried to not remember the similarly crimson puddle on the floor of the captain’s chambers. My chest tightened. We had a traitor to kill.

I glanced over my crewmates and paused on Geoff. His brows furrowed, and his glazed brown eyes gazed off into the distance. A long undershirt trailed over his black slacks, and a wrinkled, askew button-down trumped the mismatched ensemble. He handled the tragedy the exact same way as me, the way we learned from Morris. No tears. I choked back the lump in my throat and ran an idle hand over Matilda, finding comfort in the cold steel.

Those warehouses rose into view like boxy leviathans in the distance with sharp corners that jutted out, merging into long rivers of aluminum and concrete. The sunrise coated them a burnished copper and glittered over the sullied tin roofs. I hadn’t scanned the docks as much yesterday while I had focused on the drop site. After all, they weren’t designed for subterfuge since businesses liked to keep them clear and organized.

The empty wharf resounded with the menacing quiet, and the silence lingered in the back of my mind. Dock workers normally unloaded warehouse shipments at the early hours of dawn, but the bay lay deserted. Placing a hand out, I stopped our party.

“Slight change of plans. Seth, you’ll still go up top. Isabella, we’re joining you behind the crates until the coast is clear rather than walking straight into the entrance. The silence here doesn’t sit right with me. Besides, we don’t want Jensen to escape with the box.”

The closer we advanced, my fingers tingled as I readied to seize my gun at a moment’s notice. In the past, I shut out the little voice in my head during my jobs since dwelling on what-ifs wasted time. Yes, impulsive moves tossed me into trouble, but they also kept me alive. Now I led a crew. My new position as captain weighed on me like the title to a broken-down fixer upper. We walked past the first rows of warehouses, and I recognized the scrawled number fourteen a ways in from ones lining the pathway. 

“That ladder’s the route up.” I nudged Seth and pointed to the metal slats leading up the side of the building. “We’ll swing over to the opposite side and watch your back.” Seth detached from our group, and with his rifle strapped to the back of his jumpsuit, he scaled the rungs. My stomach flopped, and I gestured to Isabella and Geoff. Quick and silent, we padded over to the crates littering the docks. We crept around the side of them and crouched down behind several stacked in clusters that made for the perfect hiding spot.

Unfortunately, our employer thought so too. And these men didn’t hesitate.

A weapon glinted under the early light as the nearest one brought his pistol up. I yanked Geoff and Isabella with me. The bullet already left his gun and cracked as it hit a distant target. He loaded another one, but I pulled Matilda from my holster and tossed my uncertainty off the wharf. Several shots buried into his chest.

The man hit the ground, but the mercenary behind him already started lining up targets. Luckily, Isabella didn’t hesitate either and looped around to the other side. Two throwing knives glinted behind his knees as he collapsed to the ground. 

“Double cross, is it?” Anger, my familiar friend, surged again. The man scrambled for his gun, but I bent down and scooped the piece up before he grabbed it.

Geoff pointed his pistol at the man’s skull. “What do we do with him?”

A sigh escaped my mouth. I couldn’t kill a man in cold blood like that, not while he was unable to shoot me back. Headstrong, impatient, and foolhardy I might be, but straight murderer I wasn’t. I didn’t kill unarmed men.

“Bind him and gag him. He won’t be going anywhere.” I pulled out some rope from my bag, and in a couple efficient strokes, Isabella had him tied up. Standing behind the lowest crate, I peered over the top. From our vantage point, Seth’s sturdy figure cut a deep shadow against the blooming horizon. But so did the other sniper’s. I sank my teeth into my lip to stop from calling out a warning since the noise would alert anyone down here of our position. As if the gunshots hadn’t. Aw, hell.

I whipped Matilda up and fired three blasts towards the sniper. All fell miserably short, but Seth’s head jerked, and he pulled out his sidepiece. Smart. He bulldozed in and emptied his clip into the man’s head. Snipers were lethal but only from a distance. With his short range, Seth took the advantage, and before the other sniper could swing his rifle over, the man dropped. Seth claimed his spot and the sniper’s rifle. He signaled to us below.

A sigh of relief slipped past my lips. I barely needed to worry. Seth might be our mechanic, but old Germany built their soldiers tough, and he’d seen some wars.

I narrowed my eyes. “If Jensen came through this way, he’d have to take out or deal with these men.” 

Isabella’s eyes widened. “Do you think he’s working with the employer?” she asked.

I shook my head. “If he was, he wouldn’t meet them here, nor would they station men at an unnecessary rendezvous. I must have missed a way in.”

“Didn’t you scout it yesterday?” Isabella asked while she stared at the throwing knives she’d pulled out. The fresh blood on the tips held her gaze. 

“I did.” My hands clenched into fists. “With Jensen. He held the light and controlled our sights. He might have withheld a spot from our vision on purpose. I—” my voice cracked, but I continued, “I trusted him to find what I didn’t.”

“Well, time’s dropping like coppers in the ocean.” Geoff checked his pistol. “Why don’t you and I get out of here, sweetheart, since we have a party to attend.” His voice came out hoarse and thick, but his banter meant the world to me right now. My heart bounced from its vise for a brief second. I met his eyes gratefully, and he offered an arm.

Isabella cracked a watery smile. “Bye, darling.” The words shook from her throat, but the effort gave me strength. Geoff and I, arms linked, strode to the site where the traitor waited in the only way we knew how: with style.

Warehouse number fourteen surged into view bringing with it a murmur of paranoia as urgent as a rising mob. I didn’t like going through the front door, but we didn’t have much of a choice. The exchange kept us in the game. Jensen wouldn’t shoot the second we entered, since the employer would be arriving right around this time. At least, I banked on that because otherwise this plan threw caution over the ship’s ledge. I gave Geoff a tight smile as we stood before the door. Stepping forward, I turned the knob, and we entered.

Same as before, darkness smothered the entire warehouse with its insidious, crawling touch. The shadows shifted around the room like spots on my vision. My muscles tensed. With Jensen possibly lurking around, Geoff and I stood out like two red bulls eye on a cloudless day.

Resurrecting my mental map of the place from yesterday, the pile of crates containing the parasols were to the right. I prayed Jensen hadn’t thought of the same hiding spot. Geoff brushed by my side, almost causing me to jump in fright. My fingers scraped over the wooden grain of a crate, so I tugged Geoff’s sleeve to drag him down with me.

We breathed in the gloom, and around us the deceptive silhouettes of darkened figures lurked along the walls. After several minutes, my eyes adjusted to the dank warehouse with the shadows morphing into identifiable shapes. The place smelled like balsa wood and welded steel. I focused on the silence and listened as our shallow breaths commingled with the gentle rhythm of our heartbeats. Geoff’s warm body pressed against me, and my own responded with a shiver of comfort.

I closed my eyes and honed my focus past us, trying to grasp onto any other sounds. The overburdening silence jarred my attention like static. Either Jensen’s skills masked his sound or he never entered the building.

“Don’t move.” Jensen’s gruff voice sliced through the quiet. My eyes widened, and I tried to locate the direction—along the backside of the building. I must have missed a back entrance or side crawlspace, but Jensen hadn’t. Geoff’s arms tensed against me.

My eyes honed in on the dark shapes, and I peered over the ledge of the crate. Jensen crouched behind boxes at the other side of the warehouse. Only a slice of his shoulders stuck out—not enough to get a clear shot on. His training taught him to choose a good vantage point, and the paranoid nature of our field kept us one step ahead. I cursed every last day I sparred with that man.

Silence resumed again, but at least now we’d know if he shifted from his spot. We were stuck. If we made the first move, he could escape through wherever he entered, but if he moved, we were on the defensive, and I performed better rushing in, guns blazing. My nerves ticked with an impatient irritation. Fury demanded I rush over, sword aloft, and run him through, but luckily for me I only sometimes listened to my anger. Geoff’s hand pressed against my leg. In the darkness he couldn’t see me, but I smiled, grateful for his presence.

“Walk out now,” Jensen’s gruff voice sounded again. “You’re going to turn around and exit the warehouse. Do that and I’ll spare your lives.”

“Just like you did with the captain, right?” my voice slid out seething and dangerous. I reined back my temper before I stomped my foot in anger. “You know the word of a traitor means nothing. You’ll stab us in the back like you did with him.”

He didn’t respond.

We sat crouched behind our respective places, neither willing to make the first move and expose ourselves. Quiet in the darkness, those memories—those horrible memories of our new reality—fought to breach the walls I’d hefted up. Without the gunfire, action or something to throw myself into, despair numbed my veins like a hefty dose of novocaine. My hands shook—I was dying to make the first move. Geoff’s touch on my leg remained the one source of stability reining me in from rushing over to Jensen and doling out all this pent up pain with my bare hands. But even his presence only helped to a point, and the images, those terrible images, encroached with the stillness.

Gunfire barked outside, and Jensen’s shoulders jerked. Coming around the back he hadn’t seen the men waiting, so he didn’t know the ex-employer already double crossed us. Ironic that the traitor didn’t know we were betrayed. But all I wanted was the box my Captain died over and the bastard who killed him. Damn the rest.

The door burst open, and our plans sailed to hell.

Geoff and I skittered off to the sides of the crates since the open door compromised our position. Jensen sprung into action and shifted against the wall seconds after we moved. The light from the open door silhouetted the intruders and granted us a clear view.

Three men loomed at the entrance. Thick muscles built off hard work lent them the appearance of dock workers along with their dirt streaked rags they called clothing. The elastic on one man’s suspenders wore thin and threatened to snap. They must’ve handpicked the finest fashion from the grave. The man in the front possessed a beard the size of his face that almost covered the gun he pointed at us, but behind him, the two had their weapons out, ready to shoot. One glimpse at them confirmed the hunch I had. Our venerable employer sent these men in his place.

“Hand over the box, and this doesn’t have to get ugly,” the bearded man bellowed. I bit out a hiss. This whole situation had turned deadly and emotional, and I didn’t like emotional. Feelings made me stupid. But nothing happened like we planned, absolutely nothing, so I threw my sense out the nonexistent window.

“He says exit and he’ll spare our lives.” I stood and jabbed a finger at Jensen, tossing my safety to the breeze. “You say this doesn’t have to get ugly.” My voice darkened, deepened, and a fury burst from it like no one in the room had ever seen. “What none of you seem to understand is that I don’t believe a
damn
word from traitors,” the scream ripped from my throat, and my eyes flashed. “This got ugly when that damned bastard killed my Captain.”

The room stared at me in stunned silence. And then the bullets flew.

I tuck-and-rolled down by Geoff and the crates, but a stray grazed my arm sending a tendril of shearing pain through me. Didn’t care. Didn’t matter. I rolled away, gunning for Jensen. Occupied by the men at the door and with cargo to defend, he one-handedly shot back at them. I dove towards him.

Unfortunately none of the geniuses in the room thought before they started shooting the place up. We stood inside a metal box with no windows and one escape route. Bullets pinged around the room and ricocheted from ceiling to wall and back. From behind me, Geoff’s pistol roared into action, but being one of the few with common sense, he aimed for the door.

My hands latched onto Jensen’s broad back, and I swung with Matilda. One powerful jerk from his right shoulder pushed me off before I could whip him in the head. A bullet whizzed by me, seeking a way out of the room. I ducked behind Jensen while he aimed for the guy pointing a gun at his face. Attacked from both sides, he couldn’t place full focus on me, and I used the distraction to my advantage. I lobbed a kick behind his knee. It connected, but he didn’t go down like I hoped and instead swung towards me. With the box tucked under his left arm, he aimed a shaky shot with his right.