Metaltown (10 page)

It was possible she'd misunderstood their fight, that the bang against the wall hadn't been a manifestation of Josef's anger. For hours she'd lain in her bed, staring at the ceiling, listening for any sign that Otto might be creeping across the hall to make her suffer for his own transgressions—he only ever pinched her or said nasty things when her father had first done something of the like to him. But the house had remained still. She hadn't even heard him sneak out.

Unwilling to let him ruin her plans, she asked Aja, their driver, to transport her to Otto's division in Metaltown so that she could await his arrival.

With Aja in the driver's seat, Lena slid across the padded bench in the back of the electric carriage. She disliked car travel—the passenger compartment was much too small and the bumps gave her motion sickness, but the factory was several miles upriver, and it was too cold to have Aja pull her in a handcart.

“Are you ready, Miss Hampton?” came his low, polite voice from the front. He was a big man, with skin the color of red mud and hair as black and thick as hers. He barely fit in his singular driver's seat, and was forced to drive with the window open to have someplace to stash his elbow. For this, he wore a long, heavy trench coat, and a thick wool scarf.

“Yes, Aja, thank you,” Lena answered. The engine wound to life, and they pulled out of her family's circular cobblestone driveway. Away from the main house with its three sprawling stories and landscaped grounds. Past the coach house, where the help lived, and the driving range where her father took his associates to golf.

By the time they hit the main street, Lena's heels were tapping hard enough to dent the floorboards.

She didn't know why she was nervous. She was a Hampton, and no one crossed a Hampton. But her father had taught her at a young age that a hungry dog will bite the hand that feeds him, and these people, though grateful for their employ, were unpredictable. Lena didn't do unpredictable well.

What she did do well was organize, and that was what she intended to do, starting today. First with Otto's division, to show her father her capabilities, and then with the rest of Hampton Industries. She'd be the first woman to run the company. A legacy, like the line of men before her.

She'd dressed professionally, in fitted black pants that disappeared into knee-high boots, and a cream-colored button-up blouse topped by a short, rib-hugging coat the color of cherries. Her black hair was tucked in a bun at the nape of her neck, and she'd worn leather gloves, to show the workers that she wasn't afraid to get her hands dirty.

In her breast pocket was a scrap of paper, and on it, an address she'd looked up from the payroll department. It was from an old file—a domestic worker who had taken care of her as a child. Lena hadn't seen the woman since she'd left the Hamptons all those years ago, but she thought of her often. For more than a year, she'd held on to this address, convincing herself that it was probably no longer good. But now that she was heading across the beltway, there was no reason not to check it out. Once the work was done, anyway.

She was just going to shadow her brother for a little while. Nothing was going to go wrong. But in case something did, she'd tucked a defuser—an electroshock weapon meant to incapacitate an attacker without fatal damage—into the back of her waistband. She'd been trained to use one when she was five, and felt more than competent to defend herself should the need arise.

They passed through Bakerstown, where most of the Hamptons' extra staff who didn't stay on the grounds lived. It was a rundown place, but there were pockets of good shopping, including the markets where the cookstaff bought their groceries. Only a few electric cars, like hers, were on the street. Mostly people traveled by bike cart, or handcart, or walked among the homeless.

She shivered at the thought, glad for the firm feel of her defuser against her lower back.

A few miles farther and the way cleared of all traffic, car and pedestrian alike. The sky, which had been glowing with a hint of morning light, grew heavy with a sweet, suffocating kind of fog as they continued on a desolate beltway. Below were the train yards, and the chug and high-pitched whine of steel penetrated the car's thin windows. They'd been driving less than an hour, but she had the distinct impression they'd traveled a world away.

She saw the gray buildings first. She'd heard talk of how drab this area—Metaltown—could be, but her father didn't think it was fitting for a lady, so she'd yet to see it with her own eyes. As they drew closer to the factories, her excitement began to crystallize into a cold, hard ball in the bottom of her stomach. People—the kind she didn't want to find herself alone with—were all around, a sea of dirty clothes and dirty faces. They were all staring at the car like a cat tracks a mouse. She placed a hand on her weapon unconsciously, and leaned forward.

“Otto said he would meet us here?”

“Yes, Miss Hampton. Within the hour.”

Which meant at least two, in Otto-speak.

She removed the address from her pocket and passed it up between the seats.

“Aja, can you bring me here? I'd like to check on someone. It will only take a few minutes.”

“Miss Hampton.” Aja's tone was wary. “Your father wouldn't be pleased with any unexpected stops. This isn't the kind of area where…”

“It's fine, Aja. I'll have you with me.”

He hesitated. “Very well, Miss Hampton.”

They turned down a side street and passed by what looked to be a flea market. Most of the carts and tents were still covered for the night, but there were a few people up and about, picking through the leftovers.

Aja slowed the car, and looked out the opposite window.

“We should be close, Miss Hampton. I believe the address you're looking for is just down that way. Who are we visiting?”

“Just an old friend…”

A woman with a red shawl around her shoulders caught Lena's eye from across the street. Her long, dark hair was braided down her back, and she'd tucked her pants into worn boots that blossomed around her ankles. Even though her clothes were baggy, Lena could tell that she was slim.

Familiarity had her hands pressing against the window, had her straining her eyes for a better look. As if the woman could sense she was being watched, she turned to the side, giving Lena a glimpse of her profile.

Everything within her snapped into place. Every muscle, every nerve, every piece of her once-broken heart. Joy lifted her mouth to a grin.

She was here.

“Stop!” Lena screeched. Aja slammed on the brakes, but he was too late, the woman had already left the flea market and disappeared around the corner.

Lena jerked the handle of the door open and spilled out onto the street.

“Miss Hampton!” she heard Aja yell, but the choice was upon her. Follow the woman, or wait for protection. Her feet made up her mind; she was already jogging toward the corner.

“Aja, come
on.
Hurry up!” she called over her shoulder.

There were a few women—prostitutes—sitting on crates against the stone wall, and Lena felt their confused stares pull toward her. More people were emerging from the nearby streets, dressed in their work clothes, moving with a sense of purpose.

“Look at Miss High Class,” one of the girls yelled.

Lena's throat grew tight as her happiness plummeted. Her eyes strained in all directions, but the place was becoming more and more crowded. Where was Aja? There was plenty of room to park the car; he should have reached her by now. Instead, she found herself alone in a sea of sneering faces, all staring at her clothes. She looked at the doors of the buildings around her, but none of them were marked.

“Sorry,” she said as someone bumped into her. “Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't see you,” she said to a tall man, but he had already passed and did not look back.

She scanned the area, searching desperately for that familiar face. For that red shawl. The force of her impulsivity caught up to her, slamming around her rib cage. She'd never done anything so uncalculated and reckless.

“What do we have here?” a man asked, fixing his hat as he moved toward her. She felt for the defuser in her waistband, and gripping the handle, turned her head down and skirted to the side. Again, she wished for Aja to appear. She ducked into a narrow alley, glancing back out onto the street with a shudder of panic. He should have caught up with her by now.

She'd made a mistake. The woman wasn't here. The address was wrong—there weren't even numbered apartments in this area, and she wasn't about to go knocking door-to-door like a crazy person. Defeat sagged her shoulders. Her old nanny could have gone anywhere in the Northern Federation after her father had laid her off. She had no reason to come to this place.

Feeling intolerably stupid, Lena forced one solid breath and peeked out into the street at the heavy flow of people. Part of her considered stepping into the rush, but it was hard to see exactly where she'd left the car or to know where she should go to find Aja. If she was being honest, the crowd frightened her a little, and staying put seemed like the best course of action.

“Damn it all to hell,” she said to herself. And then in a burst, recited every curse she'd ever heard Otto say.

“I always thought pretty girls weren't allowed to say dirty words.”

She spun around to find a boy leaning against the alley wall with his arms crossed. He was dressed warmly, like the others she'd seen, in an oversized wool coat and heavy slacks. A gray knit cap was pulled back, revealing his eyes—piercing blue, like the river water just after it had been dyed. He had stubble on his jaw and chin, and a cockeyed smile that made all sorts of warning bells sound the alarm in her brain.

He must have come out of one of the dented metal doors that lined these rain-stained walls, or climbed down the fire escape from a window above them when she wasn't looking. Surprised, her mouth gaped, but she shut it quickly.

“Excuse me?” she asked.

“You don't have to excuse yourself,” he said. “I've heard a lot worse.”

“I … no,” Lena said, shocked by his forwardness. “I'm sorry. I'll say what I like.”

“So why are you apologizing?” He moved toward her with long, confident strides, slowing when she took several quick steps back and nearly tripped over a broken chair someone had discarded.

“Stop right there. Please,” she added, pulse flying. If she backed up any more, he'd push her right into the crowd, and she'd be swallowed up.

He stopped, grinned. “Since you asked so nicely.”

Irritation heated her blood. She was not about to be undermined by a cocky boy from the factory district. She set her feet, set her jaw, and stood up as tall as she could. Even in her boots she didn't quite reach his shoulders. “If you're trying to intimidate me, it won't work.” She tugged at her gloves. “What's your name, anyway?”

His head tilted to the side, and as he gazed slowly down her body, a flush rose in her cheeks. Whoever had taught this boy manners had failed. Miserably.

“Tell me your name, and I'll tell you mine,” he said.

She gawked, but quickly pulled herself together. A Hampton remained composed, even under the most trying of circumstances.

“Lena,” she said, cursing the waver in her voice. “It's Lena.”

He held out his hand, calloused fingertips extending through the holes in his woven gloves. “I'm Colin.”

 

10

COLIN

She was pretty enough, he'd give her that much. Pretty, and definitely in the wrong place.

Her smooth, honey-colored skin and soft, clean hair stuck out just as much as those high-society clothes. Girls in Metaltown dressed for the cold outside and the heat inside the factories—layered up so bulky you could hardly tell their shape. Their faces were pale from long hours of work, and they certainly didn't wear makeup. Not unless they were working a corner. She'd been the last thing he'd expected to find when he'd come up from the basement apartment, and he'd been caught so off guard that he'd glanced back inside just to make sure he'd dumped Hayden in the right place.

Once he'd figured out he wasn't crazy, he settled in for the show, entertained by her nervous pacing and the curvy shape of her thighs. She was little, but full in all the right places, and something about the way she spoke made him think of the way kids balance on a curb, teetering faster and faster right until the moment they fall off.

“So,” he said, “how's your stay so far in Metaltown? Has the staff been helpful?” Obviously she was lost, but for some reason he didn't want to point that out. She was probably from over the beltway. Bakerstown, maybe, though if that were true, he had no idea what she was doing here.

One gloved hand rose to smooth her perfect hair. “I'm fairly certain no one would come here for vacation.”

He smiled at her condescending tone. “I don't know. Metaltown is full of secret hot spots, you know. If you wanted a tour—”

“I'm here for work.” Her eyes darted to the flow of people outside the alley, then quickly back to him.

The muscles in his chest clenched, just for a moment. A Bakerstown kid, clearly out of her element, looking for a job. Something about that story rang familiar.

“What a coincidence, so am I.” Colin took another step forward.

She backed into the wall, her face drawn with worry. “You should know I have a weapon.”

“Three guesses where you stashed it.”

Her cheeks turned bright red, the same color as her snug little jacket. One hand shot behind her back.

“Easy,” he said, realizing he'd scared her. “I surrender.” He raised his hands over his head to prove it.

She was shivering, trying to hide her chattering teeth, but the breath was clouding in front of her face. Not the smartest move, dressing so thin, but he'd made mistakes when he'd come here too. If not for Ty setting him straight, he wouldn't have lasted a week.