Her Sky Cowboy (37 page)

“I hate spiders.”

“Obviously.”

“Stop laughing.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Let’s just roll the ornithopter out of here and…Where is it?” She flashed her torch around the chamber. The teeny, tiny chamber. “No ornithopter could fit in here.”

“Unless it was a miniature model.”

Amelia squeezed in beside Tucker. There, nestled in a recessed cubby about the height and width of her forearm, was a wooden model of an intricate ornithopter. Her heart danced even as it shattered. “I thought…I dreamed of flying it into London and making a grand entrance.”

“It’s magnificent.”

“Magnificently small.”

“Not the size of the instrument that matters. It’s what you do with it.”

“Good things come in small packages?”

“I was talking about the ornithopter.”

“So was I.” Smiling to herself, she leaned in as far as she could and shone light over the model. “It reminds me of one of his later sketches. Only…No, it’s different. Look at the way the wings…Tucker?” He was no longer beside her. Panicked, she spun around. “Where are you? What are you…” He was standing at the opposing wall, back to her, studying…
Oh, no!
She rushed over. “Don’t touch it! Don’t look!”

“It’s a codex.”

“What?” She didn’t want to look. She promised not to look, but she couldn’t help herself. A book. Tucker was carefully turning the pages of an ancient book. Leonardo da Vinci had written several codices throughout his life. Their subjects ranged from botany to weaponry to mathematics and flight, to name a very few. Drawing and musings and…“That sketch. It’s similar to—”

“Briscoe Darcy’s time machine.”

“The clockwork propulsion…Oh, Tucker.”

“Fascinating.”

“Don’t read it.
Can
you read it? You said speaking and reading Italian were two different animals.” She squinted at the cramped scrawl. “The writing’s backward or upside down, or maybe both. I can’t tell. Please say you can’t tell.” Amelia broke out in a full-body sweat. She eyed the skinny empty cubby in the wall. “Put it back.”

“If I went back in time I could change things. Bring back Ida. Save Lily.”

“Ida tried to manipulate you. Tried to
shoot
you. You’re not to blame for her death, Tucker. And Lily?” Amelia palmed her forehead. “Lily’s alive. You want to return to America for her, remember? I mean…You’re talking
crazy, Tucker. Is it your shoulder?” She shoved aside the lapel of his leather coat and shone the light on him. “You’re bleeding through your bandages. Through your shirt! Blast! Put the codex back. We have to get you to Doc!”

“I’m not crazy, and I’m not delirious,” he said, gaze fixed on the pages. “Not saying I want to use this information, but it damn well fuels the imagination. Christ almighty, Amelia, it’s Leonardo da Vinci’s codex on time travel. Aren’t you curious?”

“No. Yes. Of course I’m curious. But I don’t want to know. I don’t want to be tempted. One Darcy already tampered with the natural march of time and look how
that
turned out. The Peace War. A globe divided into Old Worlders and New Worlders. Mods and Vics. Freaks—an altered race that has no rights.”

Tucker raised a brow. “Thought you were a staunch New Worlder committed to saving the world from rack and ruin? Advanced knowledge could go a long way toward creating utopia.”

His words slammed into her like an iron hammer, shaking her belief system. She licked her lips and searched her heart and mind. “I’ve decided flexibility in certain matters is wise and henceforth will determine my actions according to specific circumstances.” Similar to his own belief. “And in this circumstance—”

“Let sleeping dogs lie.” His lip twitched and he shot her a look that said they were in accord. “Grab the ornithopter.”

Gloriously relieved, she watched as he slid the codex back into the stone cubby. She grabbed the ornithopter. “Let’s get out of here.” She zipped back out into the main cave, alarmed by the sounds of the mounting storm. “Make the wall close!”

“I need your compendium.”

Ornithopter secured tenderly in one arm, she tossed him the ancient compass. “Listen.”

“Don’t hear anything.”

“Exactly. The eye of the storm? It must be Dunkirk. Close the chamber. Hurry! He cannot know of the codex. If he wants the ornithopter—”

“No, goddammit. Wait—”

“I’ll distract him. Close the bloody chamber!”

“Amelia!”

Committed to saving the world in her own way, she dashed outside…and into the arms of the Scottish Shark of the Skies.

“
This
is the invention of historical significance?” Captain Colin Dunkirk frowned at the priceless model now in his unscrupulous possession. “Hardly seems worth the trouble, yeah?”

Tuck smiled up at the bastard who’d gotten the best of him and Amelia, trussing them good and tight to a cypress tree. “Then why bother?” His shoulder hurt like a mother. His jaw throbbed from being coldcocked with the butt of a blunderbuss, but by God, he refused to show vulnerability. Next to him, Amelia trembled with fury or fear. Probably both.

The pirate smiled back and hunkered down to eye level. “Let me list the reasons. One: I dinnae like ya, Gentry. Respect ya, but dinnae like ya. Two: Ya stole the lass away. I like the lass. A lot. Three: Ya set fire to me ship. Revenge is sweet. Four—and most important: Someone’s paying me a substantial reward for this little treasure.”

“Who?” Amelia blurted.

His smile broadened. “A mutual acquaintance, lass.”

“Impossible.”

“Possible. Surprised you’d consort with such a bastard.” Dunkirk studied Amelia with an intensity that made Tucker want to rip off the man’s head. “Come with me willingly, lass, and I’ll spare ya.”

The last thing Tuck wanted was for Dunkirk to take Amelia, but at least she’d be alive. No guarantee the rescue he’d initiated with StarMan would come in time. Rather
than risk her life, and trusting,
believing
she’d somehow take care of herself, Tuck nudged her.

“I’m thinking about it,” she said through clenched teeth.

She was? He hadn’t expected that. He shot her a look.

She glared back.

“What’s this?” Dunkirk asked with a grin. “Trouble in paradise?”

“Stuff it, Dunkirk,” Amelia snapped.

The pirate laughed. “On second thought, not sure I have the time to tame ya, lass.”

“As if you could,” she groused.

Still laughing, Dunkirk stood and passed the precious artifact to his second in command. “I’ve secured the two of ya a discreet, though not fully safe distance from that cave, which is rigged to blow in”—he checked his pocket watch—“ten minutes. Giving you a fifty-fifty chance of survival, Gentry. Not near what you gave me and my crew. Thought about blowing the
Maverick
sky-high, but decided I’d rather own her. I’ll attend to that as soon as I collect on the artifact.”

“I don’t know what your
employer
is offering you,” Amelia said, “but that ornithopter is potentially worth half a million pounds. Maybe more.”

“Not helping,” Tuck said.

“Do you not read the newspapers?” she plowed on. “Are you unaware of the Triple R Tourney and the jubilee prize?”

“I’m aware,” Dunkirk said, sobering. “I’m also a wanted man. Stroll into London in pursuit of that prize and I’ll lose my head.”

“Literally,” Tuck said.

Amelia gave his boot an annoyed kick. She looked back to Dunkirk. “I’m not wanted. Let us go and let me deliver the invention. Whatever I win, I’ll split with you. Fifty-fifty.”

“Ya think to bargain with me, lass? Again?”

“Twenty-five-seventy-five. We can live with twenty-five percent.”

“No, we can’t,” Tuck said.

She cast him a scathing look. “Yes, we can.”

Dunkirk looked at Tuck with something akin to goddamned pity. “Oh, this is rich.”

Tuck’s senses flared when the pirate signaled his three cohorts back to the
Flying Shark
. Not that he could see the damned airship, given the dense fog. As long he had that weather-meddling Freak with him, Colin Dunkirk was fairly invincible.

“Ten-ninety,” Amelia said, obstinate to the end.

“Ya make life interesting, Amelia Darcy.” Dunkirk adjusted the clockwork mechanism. “Ten minutes.” Then he triggered a toggle and disappeared into the mist.

Amelia squirmed against the ropes and cursed. “I despise that man.”

“Yet you’d strike a deal with him?” Tuck asked while working the rope around his constrained wrists.

“I was trying to stall for time. Bargaining seemed smarter than stonewalling.”

“Men like Dunkirk don’t bargain. Thought you’d learned your lesson on that score.”

“Is this really the time to lecture my methods?” she asked, sounding wounded and mad. “I was trying to save our skins.”

Tuck’s pride kicked. “Don’t you trust me to do that?”

“Of course, but I…
Oh!
How I ever fell in love with you…I must be crazy, because you, sir, are an insufferable sod.”

Tuck stilled. “What did you say?”

“I called you an insufferable sod, you infuriating bastard!”

“Before that.” His heart pounded, overshadowing the eye-crossing pain in his shoulder. “You love me.”

She froze. “No, I don’t.”

“You said you did.”

“No, I didn’t. I said…I said I
fell
in love with you, which is not the same thing.”

“Exactly the same,” he said, feeling light-headed.

“We’re going to die and you’re arguing semantics?”

“We’re not going to die, although we might sustain serious injuries, depending on timing. We need to free ourselves from this tree.”

“These ropes aren’t budging, and I’m fairly certain the tree isn’t going anywhere. Have a trick up your sleeve, Sky Cowboy?”

“No. But I’ve got a jackknife in my pocket. See if you can reach it.” His vision blurred. “Dammit.” He banged the back of his head against the trunk of the tree, fighting a wave of dizziness.

“What’s wrong?” she asked while fidgeting and exploring his pocket.

“Woozy.”

“You’ve lost a lot of blood. Don’t pass out on me, Tucker Gentry. I don’t want to die alone.”

“Not gonna die. Too much to live for.”

“Got it,” she said. “If I can just angle…Don’t move.”

“No problem.” He licked chapped lips and banged his head again.
Stay alert. Stay focused.
“Who’d you consort with before you consorted with me?”

“What?”

“Dunkirk said—”

“Oh, that. I don’t know whom he could have meant. I’ve never consorted. Although there was Phin.”

“Phin?”

“Phineas Bourdain,” Amelia blurted, red-faced. “It was nothing. Just a kiss.”

Jealousy cut through the haze of pain. “Does this Bourdain have a lot of money?”

“Not really. Besides, he’s a good friend of Jules’s. Fiercely loyal.” She continued to saw at the ropes. Slowly. Awkwardly.

Tuck glanced at the timer, then at the sky. The fog had lifted. No sign of the
Flying Shark
, but no sign of the
Maverick
either. He’d signaled StarMan via his telecommunicator at the same time he’d been shutting the door of the secret chamber. He’d hoped by now…unless the communication had failed. “Pass me the knife.”

“You’re too weak—”

“Dammit, woman.”

“Fine.” She shifted and managed to pass off the blade. “How much time do you think we have left?”

His heart broke at the fret in her tone. Was she thinking about the explosion that had taken her pa? “All the time in the world, Flygirl.”

“Before the cave blows, I mean.”

He worked the knife over the ropes enslaving Amelia. “Maybe five minutes.”
What if there’s no tomorrow? Christ.

She fell silent for a second, as if contemplating her most dire concern. “The ornithopter,” she said. “I want you to know I was trying to think of a way that it could benefit both of our causes. I thought we…”

“We?” Heart full, Tuck smiled. “Just so you know, my mind was travelin’ that same road, honey.”

“You are indeed, as I’d first believed, a noble man, Mr. Gentry,” she said with a catch in her voice. “Had you a specific plan in mind?”

“I was going to make you a substantial monetary offer, plus a promise to look after you and your ma in exchange for the invention. With your brothers in the race, your family still has an almighty shot at glory. That ornithopter, magnificent though it is, stands a slim chance of winning the jubilee prize. On the other hand, Judge Titan collects rare antiquities. Even though Ida stole his priceless collection of miniature paintings, he blames me. He’s a vengeful man, but he’s also greedy and obsessive.”

“You honestly think he’d clear your name in return for a da Vinci model.”

“It was worth a shot.”

“You love your sister very much.”

“As you love your brothers.”

Her voice grew contrite. “I suppose we could have indeed struck a compromise.”

“That was my plan. Part of it, anyway.” He felt one rope give way. With his hands tied behind his back and his senses fuzzy, the effort was tricky. He sure as hell didn’t want to cut Amelia. He glanced at the timer, then at the sky again.
Fuck
.

“Tucker, I—”

“Hold still.” His ears buzzed as he cut through another rope. “Try it now. Work your wrists, darlin’. Hurry.” The buzz intensified to a roar.

“Free! I’m free!” She scrambled to her knees. “Give me the knife.”

“Run.”

“Give me the bloody knife, Tucker!”

Just then Doc Blue appeared in front of him, as if he’d fallen directly from the sky. Then Tuck smelled the rocket fuel, felt the heat.
Pogo Pack
.
“Maverick?”

“ALE.”

That didn’t make sense.

“Would’ve been here sooner,” he said. “Inclement weather.”

“Cave’s rigged to blow!” Amelia screamed as two air constables touched down. She sliced through one rope. “Help me!”

“Get her out of here, Doc.”

“But—”

“That’s an order.”

Doc snatched Amelia away as the air constables moved in. He heard her scream. Heard a roar. An earsplitting explosion.