The Gadget: The Rondon Chronicles Book One by V. Timlin (speed reading book .TXT) 📕

you want to quit. But the consequences are on you, Anouk. There is a very real chance you’ll die out there… as you saw it last night. I’m not trying to scare you, mind you. I’m just making sure you know the stakes.”

Anouk wrapped her arms around her knees and nodded. “I’ve begun to realise that, but I’ve made up my mind. I can’t sit idly and wait for you or someone else to sort out this Stalo issue. I’ve told you that already.”

Nat took the pillow back to Anouk. He bent, giving her a quick kiss on the cheek before she managed to dodge. “Good job, partner.” He straightened his back. “Breakfast is ready. Get dressed. We have work to do.”

Dumbfounded, Anouk watched Nat walk out of the door. Had he been testing her?

* * *

Anouk joined the others around the fire. “Good morning, everyone.”

“Good morning, Anouk,” Vari and Fitzwil said, as if from the same mouth. They looked at each other and smiled.

It had been too dark the night before, and she had been too shaken to register her whereabouts, but in the morning light, their camping spot looked far from an idyllic location for a morning picnic. Soot-covered brick buildings surrounded it on three sides and a lane ran by the fourth, making the area a secluded pocket. Heaps of scrap metal, wooden splinters and glass sherds littered the yard. A few patches of green grass defied the greyness and pollution, pushing through the debris and reaching for the sun that wasn’t there. Tall chimneys on the factories pumped dark fumes towards the morning sky like deep-sea vents.

“What is this place?”

“Rondon Industrial District—the port starts behind that building.” Fitzwil waved his hand towards the wall across the lane. “But we have to leave when we’ve finished breakfast. As soon as the guards spot us, they’ll be on us like angry wasps. They’re not particularly fond of people hanging around here and stealing their junk, as they see it.”

“Come sit here.” Nat patted the stool next to him.

Anouk sat, giving him a wary sideways glance. He seemed relaxed, more interested in his plate than testing her commitment.

The smell of bacon, eggs and brewing coffee teased her. Her stomach grumbled. Fitzwil handed her a plate and cutlery, and she proceeded to help herself to sizzling bacon and fried eggs.

“So did you get to meet Stalo himself yesterday?” Fitzwil asked Nat.

Nat had reached to take another serving of bacon. His hand twitched and the slice on his fork dropped back into the frying pan. He stabbed it, his face tight. “No, I didn’t even know he was there until he tried to shoot Anouk and me just before we fled.”

“Taking no chances,” Vari muttered.

“Aye,” Nat grunted.

A shiver ran down Anouk’s spine. “Well, he’s been rather busy… for a wounded man. He’s been back just… what, two or three days? Where on earth did he get those men so quickly?”

“He hasn’t.” Nat winced when chewing on the bacon. “His lieutenants have. I didn’t see them, but I picked up as much from conversations around me.”

“Quite,” Anouk said. Ah yes, his former soldiers. An admirable loyalty. She was beginning to lose her appetite. “So… Did your ‘friends’ say anything other than they wanted both of us? Like why? Or where Stalo was hiding?”

Nat laughed. “That’d been great if they’d told me his hiding place. I did ask and got this.” He pointed to a red swelling on his right cheek. “But no, their orders were to capture you, and then contact Stalo’s men.”

“Well, how thoughtful of them.”

Anouk lowered her plate on her lap. She had now completely lost her appetite and didn’t take a second serving as originally planned. The reminder of Nat’s beating and how dangerous the situation had been made her stomach lurch. With what she had learned about Nat and Stalo’s mutual past, she could well believe Stalo was as determined to get rid of Nat as Nat was to send Stalo to the gallows—or a fate of equal magnitude. She now also understood what Stalo meant when he said her talking with Nat in the cemetery had signed her death warrant. At that very moment, she had unwittingly become Stalo’s sworn enemy—in his sick mind, that had been an act of betrayal.

She glanced at Nat. He knew it too, she was sure of it. Why had he told her the bare minimum, she could only guess. Yes, he wanted to protect her, and he felt responsible; he had said as much. Maybe he even blamed himself. She couldn’t bring herself to blame him, though. What had happened was done. And… he was rather nice. As were Vari and Fitzwil and Amanda. So in a way, Stalo had done something good, however unintentional—he had brought them together, but then again, he might kill them together.

“What were those explosions?” Nat’s question snapped Anouk back to present.

“Firebombs,” Fitzwil said. “A couple of them were thrown in through the front door. We shot the man who was going to throw two more through the back door.”

“Before the firebombs, two more men barged in, firing at us and their comrades. We took care of them,” Vari volunteered. “No one was supposed to come out alive, it seems.”

Nausea washed over Anouk and she leaned forward, bracing herself for possible disgorge—they were all meant to die, including the kidnappers. That was why Stalo had been there; to oversee exactly that happen.

Nat rested his hand on her back, looking at her, concerned. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” she whispered. “Give me a minute.”

“These are the stakes, Anouk. We’re not playing against gentlemen.” Nat began to rub her back with a light touch. His moving hand soothed and… warmed her. She bolted upright and shot a quick smile at Nat.

“I know. And thanks, I’m better now.”

Nat withdrew his hand and nodded, an unreadable expression on his face. Anouk tightened her grip on the plate. Damn, she hated that expression. Did he question the sanity of having her around? Again?