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

She needed to divert the discussion before he brought it up again and got backing from his guardians.

She cleared her throat. “I wonder if they managed to protect the other buildings from the fire. The brigade, I mean.”

“It’s probably in this morning’s paper,” Vari said. “But I don’t think the damage spread too far. They were pretty quick to arrive at the scene.”

“If the fire destroyed some of the warehouses, I think the owners would be more happy than distraught. They’d get good money from an insurance company,” Fitzwil added with a cynical smile.

“Aye.” Vari chuckled and started to rise. “I’ll start packing.”

Fitzwil pushed himself up from his stool. “Yes, and I’ll check around for the guards after harnessing the horse.”

The old couple exchanged a quick kiss before Vari headed towards the caravan and Fitzwil towards the mare who was munching dry hay next to their home on wheels.

Anouk turned to face Nat. “So, did you find out anything else when you hung around with your new ‘buddies’?”

Nat gave her a wry smile. “No. They replied to my questions with a fist.”

Anouk frowned. “Judging by your face, you asked quite a lot of them.”

“Of course.”

Anouk hesitated for a moment before putting her hand on his arm. “Vari and Fitzwil told me what happened to your family.”

Nat stared down at the coffee between his hands, his face blank. A sting of guilt twisted Anouk’s gut. She shouldn’t have brought it up. Not yet, at least. He had gone through enough in the past twenty-four hours, so he might not want to revisit his past now. She raised her hand, but then paused. She wanted to give him a hug, but didn’t dare. He might not welcome it. Hastily, she pulled back her hand.

“Well, he wasn’t any different from most warlords,” he said, a sharp edge to his tone, then swigged the coffee down his throat. “From what I could deduce, the men were from The Pits, so we need to go back there.”

Anouk winced. The timing sucked, and a hug would have been a bad move. So it was all business for the time being. Fair enough. He seemed to accept her as a partner now. Good. She would try again later. His past was bound to be relevant, and she needed to know.

“Where is this The Pits place?”

“It’s that neighbourhood where Rose lives, and Dr Arnar has his illegal practice.”

“Oh. It’s actually quite an appropriate name for the place.”

Nat lifted his eyebrows.

“Sorry.” Anouk reddened. “I’m being too judgemental.”

Nat shrugged. “No, you’re right. The place is a dump.”

Fitzwil came back, jogging.

“We’ve got to leave now. Two guards are coming down the lane.” He turned to Vari who had appeared at the caravan door. “Guards.”

“Right.” Vari bobbed her head and scurried down the ladders.

She poured some water over the fire to suffocate the remaining weak flames. The hot coals sizzled as water hit them, sending a plume of smoke upwards. Meanwhile, Fitzwil had rushed to finish harnessing the horse to the caravan. Anouk and Nat helped Vari pack up the rest of the camp. There wasn’t much, but still they were heading to the street not quite as fast as they wished.

“Oi, there. Stop!” a guard bellowed when they turned into the lane.

Fitzwil steered the horse in the opposite direction and made a clucking noise. The mare jumped to a trot.

A shrill whistle pierced the air. Anouk peeked behind. The guards had darted after them. One fumbled at his waist for a revolver while the other blew his whistle again. Two more armed guards appeared in front of the caravan from behind the factory—they placed themselves in the middle of the street and pulled out their guns.

“So you think.” Fitzwil urged the horse to a greater speed.

The horse neighed. The men shot into the air as a warning. Fitzwil made clucking noises again, and the mare picked up her pace, eating the distance fast. The guards pointed their guns at them, but the fast-approaching caravan forced the men to jump aside.

“They might try to board,” Vari said.

Nat nodded, his face grim. “Anouk, take care of the guard if he tries to climb on.”

The moisture vanished from her mouth and her heart started pounding against her ribs. Now that Nat had accepted her as a full partner, if he said ‘stop that guard’, she had to do as requested, even if it meant she had to kill the guard… or risk her life and Nat’s by not doing so. She gritted her teeth. Well, this was what she wanted, didn’t she?

The caravan swayed and she clenched the side rail, her knuckles white. Anouk wondered how she could prevent someone from boarding when she was in danger of falling off herself.

“How?” she asked. The guards, only a few yards away, were readying themselves to grab the reins of the horse, revolvers in their hands.

“Kick his face,” Nat called and fired twice, knocking off the hats from the guards’ heads. “And don’t get shot.”

“Right. Kick his face, don’t get shot,” Anouk muttered, licking her lips.

Abandoning the plan to stop the horse, the guards started to run beside the caravan. The man on Anouk’s side took hold of the side rail and made a move to pull himself up. As instructed, Anouk kicked him, aiming for his face. He saw it coming and dodged, and her foot hit the gun instead, knocking it out of his hand. The motion unbalanced her, and she fell on her back on the narrow front porch of the caravan. In the process, she lost her grip. The guard grabbed at her ankle and began to pull her off. Anouk rolled on her side, her hands scraping the sidewall, trying to find a hold as she was sliding.

A gun went off close by—the guard cried out in pain and let go of Anouk’s ankle. He landed on the street with a thud. For one horrifying moment, Anouk waited for the caravan to jolt, sending her after the guard and under the