Chapter 4

The Dauntless’s interior was worse than I imagined. I knew better than to expect a palace, but the devastation still astonished me. 

After we disabled the Hove-porter so it couldn’t be stolen and climbed up the netting that had been thrown over the ruined starboard side, I found myself standing in the middle of what looked like a melted cave. Severed electric wires hung haphazardly from a charred ceiling and blackened walls. The floor was scorched and coated with dust. Crates sat in the corners, obscured with crinkled, black fabric. Sheet metal and scrapped equipment were tossed beside the piles of junk, as though it was taken because they were it was important, but weren’t ready to be used yet. 

Along the far wall was a wide hunk of singed metal blasted with holes. Wires draped around it uselessly, and it took me a moment to figure out what I was looking at.

“Is that the engine?” I asked.

Sawyer grunted in reply. I turned around, watching as he walked to the pile of random crates on our left. Nash was by the gap in the hull, pulling up the netting. I knew I shouldn’t stare, but there was something about the way his muscles in his back rippled behind the soaked fabric of his shirt––

“Gemma, help me with this.”

Snapping out of my trance, I hurried to Sawyer. He marched to one corner of the black fabric and nodded at me to take the other side. Together, we pulled the cloth free and dragged it toward the opening. By the time we reached it, Nash had collected the netting and cast it aside. He walked behind me and lifted up the heavy fabric. On the far right, Sawyer jumped straight up and grabbed onto one of the few intact support beams lining the roof. Using only his upper body strength, he latched the fabric onto a series of hooks. He repeated this circus act, swinging from one beam to the next and hanging the cloth over some hooks until the starboard gash was curtained and we stood in total darkness.

I wasn’t really claustrophobic, but my heart began to beat erratically in my chest. I heard Sawyer’s boots when he thumped to the ground, though I couldn’t see him. I stood perfectly still, listening to his footsteps and trying to locate him. I didn’t relax until I heard a match being struck and a small kerosene lantern was lit on the far right of the ship. 

How Sawyer managed to find it in complete darkness was a mystery to me. He must have known this ship like the back of his hand. My thoughts went back to Fletcher’s words. Could it really be that I was with a Kendric? I frowned, not sure how it was possible. Robertson was an old man, and since Sawyer wasn’t torturing me to death, there was no way he could be Davin Kendric. 

Was it possible that Robertson had another son?

Another warm glow came from behind me. I turned quickly and saw Nash lighting another lantern. Each man lit two more, offering the barest amount of light into the dark room. The shadows were still thick, but at least we wouldn’t be seen by whatever was lurking outside on Beggars Street. I just wished the lights did something about the cold. 

I hugged my arms to my body and rubbed them. 

“Gemma?” Nash said to get my attention. “I can get you some dry clothes. They’re some of my spares, so they’ll be too big, but they’ll keep you warm.”

I gave him a curious look and a mischievous smile. “Are you trying to get me naked?” I teased. “Because that won’t work as well as you think.”

Nash sputtered, and I could have sworn I saw his cheeks flush in the dark. He looked at the floor and cleared his throat. “I––”

I laughed. He drew his eyes back up. “I’m kidding. If you have clothes to spare, I’d love to have them.” Feeling eyes bore into the back of my skull, I turned again. “That is, if Sawyer won’t rupture a blood vessel over it.”

Nash coughed to hide his laugh. Sawyer was less than amused. “You like to push people’s buttons?”

I shrugged. “Everyone needs a hobby.”

“Well, your hobby almost got you raped tonight.”

I stiffened, my body recalling the pressure of Morris’s weight pinning me down, the rancid scent of his breath, the feel of his rough hands squeezing and twisting my chest, the oily slickness of his tongue on my face. His promise to continue where he left off.

“I had it under control.” 

Sawyer stared at me. “Didn’t look like it.”

“Fine. I would have had it under control. Better?”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Good, because I never asked you to.”

“Come on,” Nash stepped forward, placing himself between us. “Gemma, we just weren’t expecting to see you. This street is usually empty.” He turned to his friend. “Sawyer, take it easy.” Glancing between us again, he sighed. “Look, we’ve had a rough night. Why don’t we all relax, get something to eat, and just talk, okay?” 

He looked at Sawyer when he said this. Nash didn’t think I was a threat. I knew immediately that he was my target. My stomach clenched at the thought and I had to look away. 

Silent, Sawyer grabbed a lantern and crossed the ship toward the boxes. Nash turned to face me. I lifted my gaze and fell into those dark brown eyes. 

“I'll get you some clothes and food,” he promised.

I smiled, and played my part.

“Finally, someone who knows how to treat a lady.”

Nash laughed softly, a sound that warmed and comforted me. 

I hated doing this. 

As he turned to walk away, I clutched his hand. Nash looked back at me, directly meeting my eyes. “Thank you, Nash,” I whispered. 

He squeezed my hand, then let go and walked away. Sighing, I sat down near the cluster of lanterns. I peeled off my soaked jacket, turning my back on my two marks. I unstrapped my unused knives then wrung out the bottom of my shirt to make it seem like I wasn’t paying attention to what they were saying. They were quiet, but not quiet enough.

“She shouldn’t be here,” Sawyer insisted. I quickly wrapped my weapons in my waterlogged jacket. No reason to make him trust me even less. 

Nash’s sigh was short and aggressive. “Seriously, Sawyer, what is your problem with her? She was a victim. Why can’t you cut her some slack?”

There was a pause. I wondered if it was to glare at Nash.

“You’re asking me that? Really?”

It was Nash’s turn to be silent. “She doesn’t know, and I’m not going to tell her.”

Sawyer let out a tired breath. “Maybe, but if she finds out, you think she’ll keep playing nice? She has an attitude already. I don’t want to keep making enemies.”

Nash and Sawyer stood in silence for so long that I almost turned around to see what was happening between them. 

Then Nash said, “Guess you’ll have to do the impossible, and not be snippy for once.” I could hear the smirk in his voice.

“I am not snippy,” Sawyer replied, lighter than before.

Nash laughed again. “You’re the definition. You bitch when we get good scrap for the ship.”

“Scrap, Nash. Leftovers. Useless parts that nobody else wants.”

“What were you saying about not being snippy?”

Sawyer went back to muttering, and I concentrated on unlacing my boots as I heard Nash approaching. He sat down beside me and extended a bundle of clothes. 

“Hope these work.”

I took them gratefully, letting my fingertips brush his. “If it’s dry, it’ll work.”

Nash shifted, as though suddenly nervous. A strange reaction from someone so large. 

“Um, there aren’t many places to change privately…”

I smiled my first real smile since I began my charade. I knew I was attractive, but most men weren’t shy about their intentions regarding my body.

More chances to manipulate someone who wouldn’t see it coming. 

“I’ll change later,” I assured. “I’m starving right now.”

Nash looked much more comfortable and handed me a small burlap pouch. I pulled it open, looked inside, and was struck speechless.

Ripe carrots, an apple, hard cheese, bread. Was that dried beef?

I couldn’t remember the last time I’d eaten anything this fresh. Most of my food was either stolen or given to me by Fletcher as a reward. Even then, the most of what we ate now consisted of measly soups or rock-hard rat meat. Most of the farms had been destroyed in The Storm, but some had survived. The workers were harassed or threatened into farming for marauder Clans or the Electrician colonies buried underground. I don’t know how Sawyer and Nash managed to come across such fresh foods, and I didn’t care, either. I wasted no time in indulging. 

The carrots were crunchy, the apple tart, the cheese sharp, the bread crisp, and the meat salted perfectly. I could have cried from the taste of it all.

I devoured half the food given to me before I realized that both men were staring at me. I slowed down and glanced between them. 

“Was this supposed to be for all of us?” I asked, half seriously.

Sawyer chuckled behind us, and Nash’s smile intoxicated me. For a minute, I forgot everything turning my life to ruins. I didn’t know anything about him, knew better than to trust him… but I wanted to. Something drew me to him, amazed that there was a kind soul left in this world after all it had suffered. 

“We have extra,” Nash assured. “Food will be useless if we let it go bad.”

Sawyer grunted in agreement, then tapped a burlap sack onto his friend’s chest. Nash took it gratefully and started pulling the ends open. Sawyer circled around to sit in front of us with his own pouch. He set his lantern and a canteen of water in front of us and flicked his eyes to me. 

“So, Gemma,” he said civilly. “Tell us about yourself.”

I shrugged, picking at the bread. “Nothing to tell, really. I spend most of my days scrounging for food, tools, anything I can trade.”

“Where do you live?”

I kept my eyes on the bread. Unless they were seriously well stocked, like farmers, or simply insane, no one in Westraven lived alone. They all had associates somewhere to help them. It was the only way they could keep surviving, especially now that the Hellions had found a way to leave the Behemoth in daylight––by wearing the uniforms and modified helmets of the Sky Guard soldiers they’d killed.

“Anywhere I can. I move around a lot,” I said. It didn’t really feel like a lie, since that was what I planned on doing once I was free of Fletcher. 

After you betray the first men who haven’t tried to assault or control you yet.

I was glad I ate as much as I did earlier, because I quickly lost my appetite. Sawyer opened his mouth to speak again, but I quickly turned the tables on him.

“So what’s your plan for the ship?”

Sawyer stiffened. “What makes you think I’ve got any plans?”

My laugh was short and sharp. “I’m not stupid, Sawyer. This is the Dauntless Wanderer. I might’ve been a kid when it was in its prime, but everyone heard about the things Robertson and Davin Kendric did with it.”

Something flashed through Sawyer’s eyes, too fast for me to catch. His posture was rigid. I’d obviously struck a nerve.

He couldn’t really be related to them… Could he?

As far as anyone knew, Davin was Robertson’s only son. He never acknowledged any others. Though given his sordid reputation, it was possible that he’d bedded more than one tavern wench in his heyday. 

Davin certainly had. Most of them without their consent.

“Maybe I have a thing for repairing relics,” Sawyer countered.

I knew better than to laugh at him. This was the most I’d gotten from Sawyer so far. I knew I had a better chance of coercing Nash, but I would take what I could from the fiery young man before taking advantage of the kinder one.

“Well,” I said cautiously, “if that’s the case, you look like you need some help. It’s a big job.”

“We’ll manage.”

I quirked an eyebrow at him. “You can be in two places at once? Wow. Not even the Hellions can accomplish that.”

From the way Sawyer bristled, I pushing my luck, but I wasn’t going to get anywhere by pretending I was a weak little girl who was afraid of shadows. Better just to be myself, and deal with the consequences. 

“There’s two of us,” he pointed out.

“Right.” I popped another bite of bread into my mouth. It was a little hard, but compared to what I usually ate, it was sweet divinity. “How many times have you come back and seen something trashed or missing?”

The marauder’s jaw twitched. His patience was thinning by the second. “If you’re asking to stay with us, the answer is no.”

My heart sank for a moment. If I hadn’t already been snared by Fletcher and my brutish brothers, I would have begged to change his mind. The idea of getting fresh food regularly was a level of bliss I hadn’t known in years. 

But the situation was more complicated than that, and instead of negotiating with a psychotic “father,” I just had to deal with a cranky young pirate. 

There were worse situations to be in. 

I held Sawyer’s tawny eyes. “You saying that because you don’t like me, or you don’t think a girl can handle herself?”

“Because I don’t like you. Being a girl has nothing to do with it.”

“Aren’t you sweet.”

“Sawyer, Gemma, come on,” Nash eased. “Can’t we just relax for a couple minutes?”

We both ignored him. “If you’re going to repair a ship like the Dauntless, you need help. The Hove-porter suggests you want to move it off the street. Doing so in the rainy season is smart because the Hellions might not see you, and the survivors are going to be looking for supplies they can carry instead of scrap, but it will still take ages to get it to…” I looked at Nash. “Where are you taking it?”

He hesitated, then took a breath.

“Don’t say anything, Nash,” warned Sawyer.

The bigger boy looked at his friend. “She’s got a point, Sawyer. We can’t keep getting the scrap metal and leaving the Dauntless alone.”

“She’s not coming with us,” he snapped.

“Where are you getting the scrap from?” I asked.

“None of your business.”

I huffed out a breath. “Fine, where are you hiding the pieces you find? The Junkyards? Hauling them from there must take hours, and you can’t use the Hove-porter to move the Dauntless if you waste all its power transporting supplies.”

Sawyer was silent, though I couldn’t tell if it was because he was listening, or because he was annoyed.

“I know every inch of the city,” I continued. “I’m always on the move, so I know which places are safe and which aren’t. I can tell you where to hide the parts you need,” I held my breath, “if you tell me where you’re destination is.”

A muscle in Sawyer’s jaw twitched. Cold air was blowing in from the gouged exterior of the ship, but I could have argued that it was coming from Sawyer. The only sounds that could be heard were the steady flapping of the curtain hiding us and the low howl of the wind. 

After what seemed like forever, Sawyer gathered his things. He grabbed one of the lanterns, stood up, and walked away without uttering a single word. Old wood creaked from beyond the shadows, and a door shut on our left. I had no idea where he was going. I wasn’t about to ask.

Nash sighed and scrubbed a hand over his face.

“Sorry,” he muttered. 

“That should be my line,” I countered.

He tried to smile, but it didn’t fit on his lips. “Your plan is a good one, Gemma. Sawyer just has trust issues.” Nash shook his head. “I’m surprised he trusts me as much as he does.”

Before I could ask any other questions, Nash collected his food as well. He left the canteen of water for me. “I’ll go talk to him. You can change into the dry clothes now. I’ll bring you some blankets if I can find them. I’ll knock before I come in.”

“Thanks, Nash.”

He smiled and stood up, taking another lantern to light his way. As soon as I heard him leave the engine room, the faked mirth dropped from my lips. I finished eating the bread then stripped off my wet clothing with automatic movements, trying to tell myself that this was the only way I could gain my freedom from Fletcher and his twisted family. If I did this, I could escape Boyd’s coldness, Morris’ leers, and Tyler’s beatings.

This is the right thing for me, I told myself, turning it into a mantra as I pulled Nash’s clothing over my body. 

He was right––the pants fell loosely around my hips, and I could have swum in the shirt. But they were soft and warm, and carried the smell of musk and something that reminded me of freshly turned soil. Scents of strength and hard work. I wouldn’t expect Nash to smell like anything else. 

I lay on my good side, mindful of my bruised ribs as I curled into a ball and let the clothes act as a blanket. I tugged over my bundled jacket and set it near my head, pulling one of the knives loose so I could grab it quickly if I needed to. 

The mantra faded from my mind.