Chapter 11 #2
“There’s quick access to boats and the railway. And it’s close to a border. Anyone leaving Driftend could travel north by multiple routes and quickly be in a different territory.”
Max nodded slowly. “From here, the bodies could be sent anywhere. They could be transferred to a car or another boat. The railway could take the bodies anywhere across the Continent. It’s important we choose our next move carefully. One wrong choice, a missed turn, and we’re chasing a dead end.”
“Then it’s a good thing I know who’s paying Maurice for the bodies.” I grinned as I offered his map back to him.
He snatched it and slipped it back into his pocket. “He told you?”
The ship groaned as the engine came to a stop. Nerves began to eat at my middle, leaving my stomach hollow despite the rich coffee. “Not directly, but he said the import inspector keeps the port open for him at midnight. Why would he bend the rules for a fisherman if he wasn’t in on the deal?”
“Follow the money, I suppose.” His lips stretched in a wide smile. “Too bad we don’t have a body to give them as bait.”
“That would make things much…” My voice trailed off when I realized he was looking at me strangely.
“What if—”
“No!” I snapped.
“You don’t even know what I was about to ask!”
An empty laugh sputtered out of me. “I don’t need to. The look in your eyes is enough. You want me to stuff myself into a box and play dead!”
His head slanted. “Alright, that’s exactly what I was about to ask. But Nina—”
“The answer is no. Why don’t you do it, if you think it’s such a great idea?”
“Aside from the fact that I’m over a head taller than you and wouldn’t fit in a box very well…
” He pulled a die from his pocket, inhaling a long breath that flared his nostrils.
“I can use every bloodline from every Archetype using these dice, but I have other abilities, too. I’m Cursed, and I can track your blood just by the pull of your scent. ”
“But you never…” I suddenly remembered the night outside the prison when he’d healed my face. He’d tasted my blood, and that was all a Cursed would need to find me—no matter where I went. I could run across the Continent, and he could probably still track me down.
I drained the rest of my coffee, wincing at the bitterness and the heat. “I don’t know. What if they open the coffer to inspect the body and find me instead? Will they retaliate against Maurice? There’s a lot to think about.”
“You think too much.” He stood and crossed the small galley in two steps, standing over me.
“In your surgery, you had time to outline every risk, assess a problem, and discuss a solution. But out here, in the real world, there’s no time to think.
Now, your mother’s at least a day or two ahead of us.
If you want to reach her before it’s too late, you need to act fast.”
“Don’t use my mother against me.” I scowled. He was a manipulative bastard, and he’d figured out exactly how to make sure I couldn’t refuse. He didn’t mind aiming low if it helped him.
“What motivates you, then?” he challenged me, mouth twisting into a suggestive smirk. There was some vulgar proposal hidden within the question, but I didn’t indulge him. Not after how he’d acted last night.
My heart—the illogical lump of cells it was—raced for him anyway.
Before I could summon a reply, three sharp shots went off above the deck, and the boat lurched sideways.
Max stumbled forward, forced to lunge toward the bed to get low.
I dropped the mug in my hand to catch him as his chest fell toward my face, but his weight was overwhelming.
His body pressed me hard into the mattress, smothering me between the unmade bed and his chest. His breath brushed the hollow of my throat, short and quick and soundless as we both considered the noise from above us.
“That sounded like—”
“Shots,” he finished. “I know. Be still.”
He braced his elbows on either side of my face, staring down at me with wide eyes. My hands were flat against the smooth, contoured slopes of his chest, his heartbeat thrumming strong against my palm. Heat washed over my frame, from either the warmth of his form or the flush of my skin.
The bed creaked when he shifted, so we remained motionless. Nothing stirred between us besides the rise and fall of our chests and the graze of his stare as he watched me.
The door to the galley was thrown open, and Max tensed.
“Sorry about that!” Maurice shouted down the stairwell. “Mooring ropes snapped. I suppose it’s about time I replace the rotted things.”
“Idiot of a captain,” Max groaned, shoving off the bed. The movement briefly brushed his hips across mine, and I had to bite my lip from making a stupid noise of surprise at what I felt when he shifted.
Merciful Architect…
Max tossed the mugs and went straight to the stairs leading to the main deck without sparing me another look. “I should… I’m going to go make sure he didn’t damage anything.”
“Good idea,” I breathed, still flat on my back. “Make sure to tell Maurice we have another body to turn in tonight, so he can let the inspector know.”
“You’re actually going to do it?” he called from the bottom step.
I pushed to my elbows to look at him. “I can be brave when I need to. Are you so surprised?”
A heat returned to the embers in his eyes. His smile was small but obvious. “All the time, Ace.”
Neither the captain nor the outsider let me off the ship.
Max wanted to check that word of my arrest and escape hadn’t somehow reached Driftend ahead of us.
Maurice wanted to keep me out of sight of the import officer while he picked up the rest of our earnings at the trading post. It seemed inconvenient that they were finally on the same page about something.