“The Underlord’s people are here?” She won’t go willingly after all, feels a tiny, furious animal wake in her chest, claw and fight and shriek until she’s sure it will tear a hole in her body and run away on its own.
He turns and only then does she see the unconscious form of the large woman collapsed in the hall outside her door. She gapes as Bo tugs on her.
“I told you I wouldn’t give up on you,” he says. “Turns out I’m a bigger fool than you are. Now, if you want to escape and maybe not have my people kill us in the process, you’ll get your feet moving, Didi Duke.” He manages a grin at last. “This is a rescue.”
Never mind he’s the reason she’s in this room to begin with. “Why?”
He exhales heavily and shakes his head. “Really? We’re going to have this conversation right now?”
She resists him, can’t trust him. Her jaw sets and he sighs, running his free hand, shaking, through his messy hair.
“Let’s just say I have a fundamental clash of ideals with Hist right now.” So, he’s in trouble, too, then is he? And he’s looking for his own backup. She’s not sure she wants to be that for him.
Still, she’s quite aware by now he’d never leave without a security blanket of his own. Didi sticks one hand out and glares. “Give it back,” she snarls.
Bo gapes at her. “What?”
“Really?” She mimics his tone perfectly, tapping one toe on the floor. As far as she’s concerned, she’s already going to the Underlord, has made her peace with that fact. This opportunity will only work out for her if he has what she wants, what she needs.
Bo hesitates, biting his lower lip, face contorting. “Didi, come on.”
“The chip.” She feels her nostrils flare. “Now.”
He groans, but finally digs his hand into one pocket, depositing the shining, gold chip into her hand. Didi’s heart palpitates as she returns it to the secret hiding place in her clothing. If only she had enough of a charge to fire up her protections, he wouldn’t be stealing from her again.
Just let him try it. She’ll take his rugging hand off at the wrist.
“Are you happy now?” Bo’s panic rises, a physical thing, his blue eyes darting toward the door. “You’re resistance has likely just signed both of our deaths in plastanium.”
“I’m done talking,” she says, pushing past him, Pip tucked against her side. She steps over the fallen woman in the hallway, turning to glare at him again as her hope—newly restored and now fed by a fury so powerful she is sure she could kill him with it if she really wanted to—surging in her veins. “Hurry up and get us out of here.”
He looks like he’s going to say something before tossing his hands and rushing past her. Didi runs after him, down the hall and dodges when he does through an open doorway. The sound of feet thudding on the floor makes her anxious, distant shouts telling her someone has found the fallen guard. But they are still running, through the maze of the building and, as Bo makes turn after confident turn, Didi begins to think maybe they might escape after all.
And yet, she has the chip again. The Underlord’s men are here. She could just turn herself in and do the trade. Not ideal, but an option. So, why is she still running as if her life depends on it?
Because, she realizes, it does. She’s been a fool all along, but she’s done with that now. No trade, no giving herself up. The Underlord will just kill her and take the chip, then kill Dad, likely. No, she needs firepower and the means to rescue her father, a way to bring the Underlord down, like she said to Hist.
She needs the gunslinger.
Bo stops abruptly, back pedals so fast she trips over him, almost lands on the floor. He catches her, pulls her back, through a doorway, just as someone shouts.
“Well,” he says, characteristic grin wide and sparkling. “That was a bit of bad luck.” Bo turns, looking up and down at the window at the far end of the room where they stand. Didi hears feet heading their way, slams the door, but there’s no lock.
They are trapped.
Until Bo leaps up, grasping the window sill, and kicks out with both feet at the plas window. She’s sure he’ll end up with shattered bones. That stuff is harder than rock. And, when he falls to the floor, groaning, she realizes his idea is a good one.
He just doesn’t have the right equipment.
Her boots zing to life, the deflectors at full power. With a shout of defiance at the solid surface, Didi runs for the window and leaps at the last moment, both feet impacting the slick window.
She’s either just killed herself or made their escape. And, as the plas shatters even as the frame collapses under the outward thrust created by her boots, she catches herself laughing, hysterically.
It’s a five foot drop to the street below, but the cushion of her deflectors catches her at the last second and softens the landing. Someone hits the ground hard beside her, Bo’s groan enough of an identifier to tell her he’s at least alive.
She doesn’t wait for him, running down the alley way toward the street. His footfalls follow a moment later, staggering and off beat a bit before they settle into something more steady. His hand grasps hers to the sound of pursuit, but they have a lead and, with a tight tug on her hand, Bo leads her deeper into the city.
He pulls her up a few moments later, tucking her in behind a pile of recycling, bending at the waist to catch his breath. Bo looks a little worse for wear, not that she cares.
“You’re welcome,” she says.
He grins at her. “We’re even, the way I see it.” He pushes her further into the shadow of the pile as someone runs by the end of the street. It’s not until silence falls again, punctuated by the normal sounds of the nighttime city, that he speaks again. “But, I might have a one-up, if you’re interested.”
She is, but hates to admit it. “Impress me, thief boy,” she says.
Bo’s face crumples, and it takes her a moment to realize the crushed expression is fake. “You cut me, dear lady.” He sniffs. “Cut me deep.”
His antics make her feel better and she laughs despite her determination to hate him forever. “Just tell me.”
Bo turns and gestures to the end of the street. “Well,” he says, “while you languished in relaxation and laziness, I did my best to figure out this problem of yours.”
“Uh-huh.” She cradles Pip, wondering how much longer he has. “You mean your people were going to turn you over or punish you and you decided to help me instead of letting them kill you for bringing this to their door.”
“Ah,” he says. “Well, perhaps there was something like that involved. Still. I did bring you your crow.” He seems surprised and curious about Pip but doesn’t comment further. “And, in case you were wondering, I located another friend of yours.”
Didi grasps Bo’s arm with one hand, desperate need burning inside her. “You found him?” She has gone from hopeless and helpless to the scrape of a maybe. She’ll have to make it count.
“I have.” Bo bows at the waist. “And, if you’re of a mind, I’ll be happy to take you there.”
She pushes past him again, already on the move. He might have screwed up so far, but Bo will be forgiven at last if he really can take her where she needs to go.
“Get me to the gunslinger,” she says over her shoulder. “And we’ll see about that reward.”
***