Nights of Steel Read online

  Nights of Steel

  THE ETHER CHRONICLES

  NICO ROSSO

  Dedication

  For Ami, through it all, love

  Contents

  * * *

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Epilogue

  Explore The Ether Chronicles

  About the Author

  The Ether Chronicles

  An Excerpt from Three Schemes and a Scandal by Maya Rodale

  An Excerpt from Skies of Steel by Zoë Archer

  An Excerpt from Further Confessions of a Slightly Neurotic Hitwoman by JB Lynn

  An Excerpt from The Second Seduction of a Lady by Miranda Neville

  An Excerpt from To Hell and Back by Juliana Stone

  An Excerpt from Midnight in Your Arms by Morgan Kelly

  An Excerpt from Seduced by a Pirate by Eloisa James

  Copyright

  About the Publisher

  Chapter One

  * * *

  The remote hills south of Thornville, California

  “THE ONLY GOOD PLACE for a man is on the other end of my gun.” Anna Blue cocked the hammer of her .45, keeping the green dot of her prismatic sight hovering over “Dirty” Danny Malone’s heart. His partner in crime, Ron “Rat” Welles, stood on the other side of their little dead campfire. Anna had heard Malone was fast, but she had no doubt she could put a bullet in him before he reached the pistol on his hip. And he knew it, too.

  Instead, Malone shot off his mouth again. “You ain’t too plain. Wash some of that trail dust off and you could be a pretty little flower.”

  She kept her gun steady. The sun was high, but her tinted spectacles kept the glare down, as well as letting her see the green dot of her pistol’s sight. “I know you boys are stupid, but do you really think you’re the first to try to use what’s in your breeches to distract me from taking you in?”

  Malone spoke up, thumbs casually hitched in his belt, but ready to draw if he had to. “Might want to reconsider that, sweetheart. A lot of things a man can do for you. A man like me.”

  She laughed, but it didn’t break the tension in her body. She’d done this a hundred times—more, even. No one was better than she was at running down bounties. The image of a man with intense eyes, broad shoulders, and a two-gun rig flashed through her mind. Maybe one man was as good as she was.

  “That’s right.” Welles’s nasal voice seemed to rattle in the pine needles around the campsite. “Laugh a little. Live a little. Got a bottle of corn liquor we could all share.”

  “You boys could never earn the right to drink with me.” She hadn’t had a drink with a man in years. Something like that, sharing the heat of whiskey, the calm it soaked into her nerves, was more intimate than the tumbles she’d had with strangers.

  Malone sucked a breath, shaking his head in disappointment. “Never met a more ornery woman.”

  “That’s your problem,” she said. “Gotta stop thinking of me as a woman and start realizing I’m the bounty hunter who’s bringing your sorry hide in.”

  Malone’s eyes narrowed. She saw the tendons twitch on the back of his hand. Welles shifted his feet in the dirt. Now they were serious. Even the horses that were tied on the edge of the campsite had the sense to paw at the ground and nicker nervously.

  She kept the green dot on Dirty Danny’s chest. “What’s your play, Malone? Boxed yourselves in. You can’t run north. Up that way is Thornville, and everyone knows the law doesn’t even let mosquitos bite in that town. The ocean’s to the west, hunting parties to the east, coming up from New Mexico where they really want you dead.” Malone glanced in all the directions she mentioned, a tic developing at the side of his eye. She didn’t let up. “I imagine you wanted to run south, but I’m standing here.”

  Welles’s nickname of “Rat” became abundantly clear when he showed his sharp front teeth in a mean sneer. “Not for long.”

  He flinched toward his pistol and she swung her gun to aim at him. No more than ten minutes ago, she’d snuck up on these two fugitives, having picked up their trail when they crossed from the Nevada territory into California. The men were caught so unawares they didn’t even have a second to grab their hats.

  “Make a play for your gun, Rat.” She kept her voice even. “I don’t hold any bounty papers on you, won’t lose any money if I leave you here for the vultures.”

  “But I’ll lose money.” A third man stepped into the clearing. Silently.

  How the hell did he sneak up on her? No one in boots moved with that kind of stealth. Besides her.

  Taking on two shooters was a challenge. Three was a whole new deal from a stacked deck. Instinctually, she pulled the small revolver she kept in the small of her back and aimed it at Malone while swinging her pistol from Rat to the new man.

  Then she understood how he’d come upon them with the silent ease of a true predator. The newcomer was Jack Hawkins.

  At well over six feet tall, the black man filled the campsite with his presence. Hell, he even seemed to challenge the nearby mountains for dominance of the skyline. His dark striped shirt and buttoned wool vest hardly seemed to contain the muscles across his broad frame. A leather harness across his chest and shoulders held a weapon at his back. The small brim of his crisp hat shaded his face, but his intense eyes still pierced through. A two-gun rig was buckled across his trim hips.

  One of those .44s was in his left hand, cocked and ready. His right hand was empty, but still looked like a weapon. His sleeves were rolled up, allowing sunlight to glint off the brass and black enameled metal that made up his thumb and first two fingers. It was some kind of mechanical wonder, extending into a steel band around his wrist. More metal rods climbed up his forearm and ended in a band just beneath his elbow.

  But those eyes—they were more incredible than the technology that built a human hand out of metal. Like lightning striking gunpowder, his gaze was quick, piercing, and dangerous. And right now he was looking straight at her, into her, as if there weren’t two armed men intent on not going to jail between them.

  This is what it was always like when they were within range of each other. Two of the best bounty hunters in the Western U.S. Of course they kept their eyes on each other. Often enough they were tracking the same bounty. Never came down to a fight for the prize, though. She or Hawkins would collect before the other had a chance to get the drop. Standing there now, however, looking back at him, she felt his presence and how it made her pulse race faster in more than her trigger finger.

  “Anna Blue.” Hawkins’s voice was low, nearly a growl.

  IT WAS LIKE stepping into a clearing and coming face-to-face with a predator just before it made its kill.

  Anna growled back. “You’re not taking in my bounty, Hawkins.”

  Jack had seen plenty of predators, but never a beautiful hunter like Anna Blue. Beautiful? He questioned himself as he took another step into the campsite. But the answer was yes. She wasn’t one of those pretty flowers from the dance halls, gliding in frothy skirts. Anna stood strong in tall miner boots. Her denim trousers hugged her hips. Even in breeches, there was no doubt she was a woman. He never thought a woman in trousers could light a fire in him, but Anna changed his mind about that. Damn if she didn’t have to be his rival.

  “Malone? He’s all yours.” His gun was steady and level on Welles. “I’m here for Rat.”

  Rat didn’t look like he was going easily. “I might ha
ve a say in that, boy.”

  He’d heard it before. Too many times. His teeth clenched. But he wouldn’t let a piece of dung like Rat rattle him. “You might bleed to death from a .44-sized hole I put in you. So watch your mouth.”

  “I’ll—”

  While Welles took all the attention, Malone reached for his pistol. Anna swung her gun around, aiming precisely. Her .45 barked before Malone gripped his gun. Birds scattered from the trees and the horses tested the knots of their lead ropes. The single bullet streaked across the campsite and smashed into Malone’s gun. Sparks flew, and he nearly jumped out of his boots.

  Silence came heavy down on the campsite.

  Anna broke it. “Can’t cock a gun with no hammer.” She moved her aim a little below Malone’s belt buckle. “Guess where I’m aiming now.”

  Jack let out a laugh. But his mouth was dry, and he didn’t have a lot of breath. Watching her move and shoot was like fine art. Better than anything they could hang in a museum.

  Her razor-sharp aim was a wonder to behold. “Guess all them tall tales are authentic. Heard you put a bullet in the barrel of Junior Winter’s rifle before he could fire. Blew the whole rig up.”

  “It’s truth.” She seemed to conserve her words like her bullets. “I’d tell you to ask Junior, but he ain’t talking from six feet down.”

  Rat tried to laugh, too, but it only came out as a strained wheeze. “Ain’t she the most prickly filly you ever seen?”

  Holstering his gun, Jack approached Rat. Knowing Anna paid attention, Jack put a little extra swagger in it.

  Rat’s smile wavered as Hawkins came closer. He’d seen it before in a hunted man. Rat teetered between trying to talk his way out of it, run, or fight.

  “She’s the best bounty hunter I’ve ever seen,” Jack said.

  A decision hit Rat. It was a mistake, but he was already reaching for his gun. Jack balled his left hand into a fist and slammed it into Rat’s jaw. The bounty had no chance. He stumbled backward, grasping at the air. Dry pine needles scattered as he landed heavy on the ground. He groaned a little and rolled from side to side, but he was definitely down for the count.

  Jack sneered, pulling the gun from Rat’s holster and the knife from his boot. “She’s the best bounty hunter besides me.”

  Anna gave a wry laugh and muttered, “Cocky son of a bitch.” She maintained her aim on Malone, but her attention was on Jack.

  He moved aside the shortened sabre on his belt so he could pull a pair of shackles from one of the many pouches.

  Her voice grew louder. “Spend a lot of time staring in the mirror, Hawkins?”

  He didn’t look up from shackling Rat as he boasted, “Who wouldn’t want to gaze at this man?”

  “I’m sure there are plenty of people with their sights lined up on you.”

  He stood from his task, fixing her with his gaze. Her eyes were hard, but she didn’t seem ready to look away from him. He reached up with his right hand and turned his wrist slightly, making the mechanical fingers pinch the trim brim of his hat. Then he winked, like giving her a shot from a hidden pistol.

  If it had any impact, she didn’t show it. The way she handled herself with Malone, stonewalling him, Jack wouldn’t be surprised if bullets and ether-powered cannon shells bounced off her.

  He cocked his head toward Malone. “You just going to let him stand there and sweat, or you going to bring him in?”

  If Malone had even dreamt of reaching for his broken gun, Jack knew she would’ve been able to pull the trigger first. She tore her eyes from Jack and turned all her attention back to her bounty.

  “Left hand,” she commanded. “Reach across and take out your gun.” Malone started to move and she cautioned, “Slow or dead, get it?”

  Malone grumbled, “I get it.”

  What on Earth could resist her? Seemed Anna’s demands would make the sequoias stand up straighter. Malone followed orders well, gingerly unholstering his pistol and tossing it on the ground in front of him. He pulled out the rest of his weapons without her urging. The guns and knives jangled into a heap in the dry pine needles.

  Stealing little glances at Jack, she made Malone walk backward a few paces before turning around and getting to his knees with his hands in the air. She shackled his wrists behind his back and holstered her gun.

  Jack could stand there and watch her work all day. He knew the kind of bounties she’d brought in. Her confidence was warranted. Her skills were as sharp as legend said. And for the first time in longer than he knew, she made him remember what it was like to have a hunger for something he couldn’t have. As silently as he arrived, Hawkins slipped into the trees surrounding the campsite.

  DISTANT THUNDER RIPPLED over the clear sky, but it wasn’t a coming storm. It was the sound of Hawkins’s engine-cycle. She’d noticed it on the street before, but never flying with its ether tank activated. The eight-foot machine glided in wide circles over the campsite.

  It didn’t seem like Rat had ever seen the engine-cycle before, though. Still dazed, he scuttled backward in the dirt until he ran his back into a tree. “Oh, sweet Father in heaven, have mercy on my poor soul.”

  She watched the engine-cycle circle tighter, looking like a bird of prey’s demon skeleton. “I’m sure he won’t.”

  When Anna was a child, sneaking away from the orphanage to marvel at the fantastic inventions displayed at the county fair, she saw attempts to rig a small steam engine to a bicycle frame. The contraption would sputter in circles, belching smoke and looking like it was ready to explode at any second. With the advent of tetrol, that miracle fuel pressed by the Chinese from the soya bean, the technology could actually translate from the inventor’s mind to the real world.

  Hawkins’s engine-cycle was a perfect example. Rather than a dream come to life, it was more like a lawless man’s worst nightmare. Enameled black steel made up the long frame. Brass fittings shined in the sun. Hawkins took meticulous care of the vehicle. Maybe because it was built with the same materials as the apparatus that made up half his hand, the engine-cycle looked like an extension of Jack Hawkins’s body.

  Malone muttered, “I’m sorry, Rat. Sorry for what he’s going to do to you.”

  Twenty feet in the air, Hawkins sat in the small leather seat, thick arms outstretched to reach the handlebars. Extending forward, between him and the front wheel, was a long engine. It rumbled, shaking and cranking out power to the propeller spinning in the back of the engine-cycle. The back of the frame was strapped down with saddlebags and cases of leather and canvas. Being a bounty hunter meant traveling with your home. If you couldn’t carry it, it wasn’t yours.

  Unexpected emotion fluttered open in her. Hawkins lived exactly as she did. The loneliness of the existence ached. She quickly pushed the thought away.

  She nudged Malone with her boot, bringing his attention to her. “What makes you think you got it any better?”

  His lips quivered. “Nothing … ma’am.”

  Hawkins hadn’t put on his goggles, so he squinted against the wind as he dove the engine-cycle toward the ground. The propelling fan kicked up dirt and leaves, creating a small storm that settled around Hawkins and his machine. Once it rested on two wheels, he killed the fan and let the engine idle. It growled like an animal.

  He swung out the kickstand with the heel of his black boot and dismounted. As he extended a retractable metal and canvas sidecar from the cycle, Rat continued whispering prayers for mercy.

  Hawkins pointed at the sidecar. “Stand up and get in there.”

  Rat merely shook his head.

  His temper didn’t flare, but the menace was clear in Hawkins’s deep voice. “Count yourself lucky I didn’t use my right hand to deck you. I once used it to punch clean through a steel suit Professor Bates built to protect him while knocking over banks.”

  The inventor and his steam-powered thieves had made the news in several counties. She knew he’d been captured, but always assumed it took the might of the army to bring him i
n. But she wasn’t about to feed Hawkins’s ego by telling him that.

  Hawkins pointed Rat toward the sidecar. “You sure as hell don’t want me to put you in there.”

  “No, I don’t.”

  Anna couldn’t help but laugh. “Sounds more like “mouse” than Rat.”

  Hawkins shot her a look. This wasn’t a man who liked being interrupted. Too bad; she shrugged it off. She had her own business to attend to.

  Putting her hand on the butt of her pistol, she leaned close to Malone. “I’m going to get my ride. You’re not going to give me the same kind of trouble Rat’s giving Hawkins, are you?”

  Malone swallowed hard and shook his head.

  Walking from the small campsite, she heard Hawkins continue to threaten Rat, but the bounty sounded petrified by fear and wouldn’t move. She couldn’t keep a small smile from her lips; served Hawkins right for thinking so highly of himself.

  Through the trees and over a small ridge, she found where she’d landed her engine-trike. It was downwind of the campsite, so they wouldn’t hear or smell the engine on the approach. She climbed into the familiar saddle of the three-wheeled vehicle. After having her nerves jangled by being so close to Hawkins, it was calming to have the handlebars and control levers of her trike just where they were supposed to be.

  She pulled the choke knob and yanked on the starter cable. The pistons cranked, but didn’t start up. Another try on the starter and the engine turned over, blooming heat in front of her.

  Twisting the release valve started the catalyst in the ether tanks. They hummed to life next to the rear wheels. The suspension springs creaked as the whole frame lifted off the ground. A quick double check told her that all her gear was still secure. Like Hawkins, she rode with her life rolled up in leather and canvas, strapped tight.

  She squeezed the clutch, dropped the gear lever into flying mode, and felt the air pulled around her by the propeller fans on the side supports. A long breath filled her lungs. Rising off the hard earth was the best freedom she ever knew. For a long time, she’d only imagined scraping her feet for countless miles on the dirt until she was dead. No grave. It seemed that there wasn’t even a place for her in the ground. But there was a place for her above it.