Born of Treasure (Treasure Chronicles Book 2) (31 page)

“Clark!” Amethyst dropped the helmet as she launched into his arms, clutching him around the neck as her lips explored his face.

“Am, what are you doing here?”

“Saving you.” She laughed, tugging him toward the cycle. “Get on. Now that we’ve got you, Top Hat Terry can blow up the fort.”

How would she know Top Hat Terry? He staggered onto the steamcycle while she ran back for her helmet.

hen had this become his life? Clark took a swig from the bottle of vodka, and realized he wanted more than that. Why not? He’d escaped from the army. Was there any factions of the army left alive in the west? Who cared?

He gulped deep from the clear bottle of fire. It burned down into his stomach. He reach for Amethyst, looping his arm around her waist, and yanked her against him, slanting his mouth over hers. Hadn’t she been drinking? She tasted sweet, like lemonade.

Amethyst, who would rather die than miss out on blackberry brandy.

The abandoned farm the gang had relocated to reverberated with music. Where had all the instruments come from? Who cared about that either? Clark took another gulp and lifted his bottle overhead to hoot with the others as a song ended. People hung from the rafters and leaned over the loft, clapping. More of the audience stomped on the rotting plank floor.

Maybe he’d pull Amethyst into the farm for another bottle. They could fuck in a corner with the others. Who cared about that? They were
married
. That had to be more than half of the people making out.

Another song started, the lead guitarist playing on a steam guitar. The drummer followed with a fast beat. A girl in low-cut leather pants lifted a microphone and screamed into it, throwing her head back. She leaned toward the guitarist so they could both sing, the steam-powered speakers shooting the music across the rickety farm.

I ain’t gonna stop,

Not till you give it all you got.

I never knew what you had goin’,

Till you crawled onto me,

Took me deep in your mouth.

It wasn’t what I wanted,

It was all I needed.

The girl stepped away from him, swinging her hips, and pointed the microphone toward the crowd.

All I ever wanted was to feel you deep inside,

So deep you’d lose your way.

All I wanted was a fighter,

Someone to defend my honor,

If I had any left.

She dragged out the last word into a scream and threw back her head again. Clark glanced at his wife to see if the lyrics embarrassed her. The last song had been about stealing, and she’d tapped her foot to the beat, grinning at him.

Amethyst kissed his mouth. “Are you my fighter?”

“Always, baby.” He bit her neck hard enough to know it would bruise come morning.

He’d always feared the worst if he was captured. He’d gotten to face that.

Screw the rest of the world.

Nothing could scare him anymore.

“Should we tell him now?” Judy leaned against Eric. Below their hill, the barn and farmhouse glowed with firelight. “I did just as I always promised you. If something happened, I would turn to Garth Treasure. I always let Clark know that.”

She wished Eric could really touch her, could be warm instead of frigid.

“You did well,” he whispered against her temple. “We’ll wait. Our boy doesn’t need distractions.”

Senator Horan couldn’t fathom how one family could tear his west apart. Everything he wanted, Garth Treasure took: the best mines, the most stock in the railroads, the expansive lands.

Garth had taken Georgette too, a pretty little piece of sturdy work. Senator Horan would’ve preferred her to his wife. At least Georgette knew how to take a bite out of the world. Even now, sitting on a stool with handcuffs binding her wrists, she looked ready to spit fire, with her eyes narrowed and her mouth scrunched. Garth sat beside her, far enough away they couldn’t touch, his eyes blazing and his body rigid.

Then, those boys. Senator Horan had always wanted a son. Instead, his wife had refused him one. He knew she took precautions against childbirth. She’d always called it disgusting, but he’d assumed he’d get his way. His mistresses had given him plenty, but that didn’t make them legal. He should’ve kept that first wife of his, but after she’d cheated, his mercenaries had taken care of her remains.

Sometimes, he could still picture her smile when he couldn’t sleep.

Garth’s boys. Right. Jeremiah, a strapping lad, perfect for hard work and breeding. The other, Zachariah, a perfect soldier. They sat cuffed near their parents, Jeremiah growling and Zachariah stone-faced.

Then, that other son. Clark. Why did the bastard have to be such a… bastard? He should’ve been honored to serve his country by belonging to the army.

“Why are we here?” Jeremiah’s pathetic little wife asked. The others had too much pride to speak.

Senator Horan snorted. “Why do you think?”

“This is ridiculous.” That came from Georgette. “We’ve done nothing wrong. It will be proven in a court of law. You cannot keep Clark against his will.”

“He doesn’t know his will. The army knows best.” Senator Horan drummed his fingers across his desk. “I am Hedlund.”

“The people are Hedlund,” Garth said, low.

“I want Clark Treasure,” Senator Horan interrupted. Enough of their insane chatter. What did their opinions matter? “He’s escaped, and who knows where Amethyst Treasure is? They’ll come for you.”

“Why would they?” Jeremiah snapped. “You should be searching for my sister. It’s your fault she’s gone!”

Clark Treasure was stupid enough to fall into the Senator’s grip. “They’ll come for you. When they do, they won’t be getting away again.”

“This is a trap.” Clark swung off his steamcycle and set his helmet on the seat. The Senator’s mansion should’ve been covered in guards. Instead, the windows appeared dark and no one stirred in the yard.

“We circle and attack.” Amethyst removed her helmet and shook out her two braids. The other gang members hung back, awaiting Clark’s word. Top Hat Terry had claimed Eric had helped guide them; his father must’ve spoken through Amethyst. She seemed fine for having taken the vial.

Clark had been nauseous for months as he’d pushed on, running, never daring to look back.

He would look forward now.

Clark tapped the whistle at his throat. According to Amethyst, who went by his father’s claim, the whistle would sound throughout the other modified helmets worn by the posse. He would sound for them when he needed to.

“We’ll go in first.” Clark held out his arm to her. The Senator would know they would come. The time for caring had past.

“And we kill them.” Amethyst grinned.

“We do what has to be done.” If someone had to die, so be it.