Chapter Nine

“This is a shit idea.” Snapper’s words were paired with tossing a tire rim the length of the mechanics bay. The sharp screech of metal cutting into metal could be heard as the rim met the bay door.

“Well, shit or not… It’s happening.” Drag had been surprised when Bridget considered his suggestion a viable option.

She’d been all sorts of happy after that as they proceeded to join the main group and review the schedule of events for the upcoming championship. Drag would be expected to make a couple appearances. The others could be handled by his fellow gang members. He’d need to do a test run to prove the racer was stable. Everyone had to participate, then the placing round of five laps to determine starting order would occur, followed by the opening ceremony and banquet, then the race.

Afterward, he and his crew had returned to Frog Lick and he longed to know if Bridget was regretting her agreement to his proposal. Engagement? Fuck, I am crazy.

“I knew this would happen. You get around she-slither and it’s like she wraps you up, captures your gaze and brainwashes you into stupid decisions. What did she offer this time? Free roam of her person until this is done?”

Drag clenched his fists as he leaned against the wall. He didn’t like how Snapper spoke about her. She didn’t deserve that kind of treatment, or at least Drag was aggravated at how dismissive Snapper was of the situation.

“I didn’t think of that, but it’s beyond the point. There is more to this than me and her. We need to keep the suspicion off of us, at least remove the notion from anyone’s brains that we’re investigating Cheatham. Nothing implausible about the fact we reconnected after twelve years and discovered the passion is still there.”

Snapper stopped his pacing and got in Drag’s face. “Is it?”

“Does it fucking matter?” Drag countered.

“It does when you’re putting this entire gang on the line. You better be right…if you’re all about dipping your dick—”

Drag grabbed Snapper around the throat and gently squeezed. “I don’t appreciate you talking about her like that.”

Joseph’s balls, what am I doing?

He released the hold on Snapper, shame flooding his entire body. They’d fought before, but never with true anger playing into the situation. Their battles dealt in words and held some sort of respect in tone, but this dove right into dirty territory.

His friend let out a hoarse cough as he rubbed his throat. “Never knew a situation where you chose her over me. She would have killed me if you hadn’t sided with me before. Now you’re willing to let her sacrifice everything we’ve built.”

Drag shook his head. “That’s not the case. This is to prevent our beginning efforts from going to ruin. You said yourself, Gina’s already collecting information that might prove damning. If Cheatham suspects, he might pull away, but if we make this about Bridget and myself, that changes things.”

Snapper swore. “I hate how you’re making a bit of sense when it’s really bothering me that you’re getting involved with my sister again.”

“Feeling those familial bonds?” A bad joke to make but Drag wanted this to be less a fight and more a conversation. He had to lighten the mood.

“Ugh.” Snapper stuck out his tongue. “More worried about my chosen family than a blood relation that would rather see my corpse burning if it meant ensuring she still had power.”

It’d been years since they’d discussed the reality of the situation they were in. How Bridget had claimed leadership over Macintosh, a position that should have gone to Snapper instead.

“It still bothers you?”

Snapper’s attention moved to him, those eyes of his burning with regrets. “She killed our father. The man wasn’t perfect, hell… He only acknowledged me in secret, but I was supposed to take the mantle. I at least wanted the option to relinquish the claim, not be forced to give up upon threat of death. Still surprised she didn’t send an assassin to kill me.”

Truer words were never spoken. Drag had expected it over the years. He and Snapper always prepared for thieves in the night, hired would-be killers that never arrived. Bridget had opted to leave them alone.

“Which makes the story more interesting, doesn’t it? Ironside said some weird shit to me. This fake engagement will help me get the answers. We need to know when all this is said and done, she’s not going to try the same bullshit again. Though I wouldn’t have left threats alive if it were me.”

Snapper chuckled. “Oh sure, you’re too nice, Drag. At the end of the day, you hope there’s good in everyone, even Bridget. I think you’re going to go looking for reasoning and find the cracked mind of a woman who didn’t want to be controlled.”

Now that Drag didn’t believe. Not for one second, when she submitted to him sexually with little fight. No, she craved the possibility of giving in and he’d give her more opportunities for the same. In that way she hadn’t changed. Was it possible she had a good reason for making the choices she had?

“Eh, we’ll see. In the meantime, will you attend the announcement ceremony?”

“No.” Snapper shook his head. “You won’t catch me anywhere near that town. Not after rescuing Jack. I’ll stay here and do my job, which is prepare this damn racer for the championship. Take Jack and Shannon. Hell, some of the others. They’ll enjoy the escape, and they aren’t tainted by what happened to us back then.”

Drag wouldn’t push for Snapper’s participation. His best friend had a point—the racer and their upcoming bid for a possible sponsor of their own were of equal importance to Drag’s clandestine work. Dividing and conquering seemed the best route.

Here’s hoping I don’t screw this up.

 

* * * *

 

“My friends, my brothers and sisters. I come before you today to announce that Drag’s bid to see if we suit has been successful. We are now engaged.” Bridget’s announcement from the steps in front of her home sent the gathered crowd into a frenzy of cheers.

There were no frustrated faces or even sneers, to Drag’s surprise. He’d been prepared for outrage and malcontent among those of Macintosh, for them to express some sort of objection to their gang allying with another via marriage.

Instead, he was pulled away from Bridget by a group of men. Many of the faces were similar to those he’d grown up with, though they were the looks not of boys, but of men, some more hardened than others.

A mug of brew was stuffed into his human hand. Toasts were made and the men assailed him with thanks for the shared technology and the farming techniques. The appreciation was replicated around the circle with more toasts to future success and allyship.

“You’ll be able to truly lead us. Not with that half-hearted work Bridget has done.”

Interesting, how the conversation had in quick fashion turned to Bridget and her lack of leadership. Others agreed with the first man.

“But she’s helped you keep a sponsor all these years.” Hell, twelve years with a single sponsor was almost unheard of without continuous winning.

“That’s because Cheatham planned to marry her. Now that you’ve claimed her suit instead, I’m sure he’ll abandon us.”

“No problem there, because Drag will win the championship and both Macintosh and Full Throttle can benefit. We have shipbuilding capabilities.”

“You’re a smart one, Drag. That’s why we need you. Who would have thought up such an ingenious plan around the blockade?”

The sentences flying back and forth framed his plan in a whole new light. To outsiders, even Cheatham, Drag would appear to be trying to find a workaround to the shipbuilding ban. The marriage would bring a lot of questions as well. For both gangs.

This could work. Cheatham will think I’m up to something else and not investigating him.

Hell, it might even force the bastard to try some more bribes to deal with him…or deploy the assassin. That made Drag grin as he took another big gulp of his ale. A fight with that bandaged-up idiot would feel damn nice and more of a workout than he’d get in hand-to-hand combat with anyone else.

“Well, I’m glad I have your support.”

“You have more than that.” This came from one of the older men. “We never felt comfortable with Bridget’s takeover. A female in charge of a gang is unheard of.”

“That Aurestral gang has a female leader.”

“Yeah, but she has a husband.”

Around they went again, debating the merits of a female in charge. These people were idiots. They weren’t starving, they had challenges with generating water for consumption, but everyone did. With Full Throttle’s help, they could get that taken care of.

Their statements about not wanting a female in charge hit Drag wrong as well because not once had they stood up for him and Snapper when Bridget was calling for their heads. No, they had been all too eager to let the fighting carry on, with Drag having to scrap for both their lives. He’d lost his arm and they’d both been cast out with only Rune and Petal to help as they struggled.

Bridget had been the one to start with the taking of Snapper’s arm, then she’d finished up the job when Drag had hesitated. Years had passed before he could forgive himself for that hesitation. Snapper’s words of frustration could be seen mirrored here in this conversation.

“She was always power-hungry.”

“Drag, you had a good reason for killing him, right? He denied your suit the first time?”

“What’s past is past, leave the man alone!”

Those memories were even worse, when she’d cut at Snapper’s arm then followed with accusing Drag and Snapper of being murderers in return, that they were the ones guilty of the plot. Trying to reverse the accusation back to the real culprit was impossible.

Cheatham had backed Bridget’s story. He’d claimed he had seen both Drag and Snapper plan their dastardly coup and take the leader’s life. Bridget had acted in retribution. She’d avenged her father’s death and for that deserved leadership.

“The old man’s right. The past should stay where it belongs, dead and burned beyond recognition. What matters is the amends I’m making now, and how my gang is willing to partner with me and support working with our neighbors and soon-to-be brother-gang.” Drag’s announcement brought a good amount of cheers and clanking of mugs together as they all finished off their drinks.

“More beer!”

Drag’s mug was ripped away, and the small group moved in the other direction. That gave him a chance to look for Bridget. The woman in question, her red hair down and cascading in spiraling waves over her shoulders, with a deep green floor-length dress covering her body while accentuating her breasts, stood not more than three feet behind him.

Her face wasn’t angry or filled with happiness, but more impassive and contemplative, her head cocked a bit to the right at an angle. The expression made Drag fearful she’d heard everything. The last thing was for Snapper to be right and the Macintosh members’ adoration toward him causing bigger issues or threatening Bridget’s sense of seniority.

She walked toward him, looping her arm through his. “I’m not surprised by what they said but still unsure how many of them are just trying to spread ideas on behalf of Cheatham. You handled them well.”

“Did I?” Concerning that she believed there to be spies everywhere. “Are you always this distrusting?”

“To the first question, yes. You kept them from getting in a heated debate which could have led to a duel in the ring in the morning. As for the second, I’ve found in my years since you were banished that trust is too dangerous and always ensures something will be used against me.”

Drag stroked his cybernetic fingers along the inside of her forearm, enjoying how he could sense her arousal just from that limited touch. The upgrade of the nanites in his cybernetic system still surprised him in ways he didn’t expect.

“Well, I’ll agree that most people always want something from a leader, but it doesn’t mean they can’t be relied upon.”

Snaps and sparks to the left made them both jump and Drag chuckled as he realized the noises were from the ignition of the torches to light the bonfire as the sun had already dipped low on the horizon, casting a strange deep orange and light purple glow over everything.

“Seems like you’re just as alert and wary as I am.”

“Well, I’m in an enemy territory. Can you say that you should feel the same in your home?”

At that moment, the rumble of haulers could be heard. He picked up at least two. Glancing for Jack, he caught the other driver’s attention and motioned for reconnaissance. His fellow cybernetic friend took off at a run, dodging between attendees toward the main open road into Macintosh.

“You don’t have to do that. I know who’s coming,” Bridget said. She was the epitome of calm and collected.

“How would you know that? Did you invite them?”

“You did as soon as we got caught in that room together.”

“Cheatham?”

She nodded and he noticed how she bit her lip. Her skin had gone a shade paler than before.

“Will you be okay?”

She took a deep breath then angled to look at him. “I’ll be fine. Besides, better we get this over with sooner. It will help take the heat off us as we wait to see what Gina finds from the cameras. I guess I’d be a little too optimistic if I hoped you were going to have an update as an engagement present?”

“Oh, princess… Yeah, afraid I can’t work miracles.”

She straightened her spine and watched as the hauler came into view. “Well, then, let’s make the best of this. Excuse me, I’ll have to prepare lodging for him.”

Then she was gone, moving through the crowd toward a small group of men and women who she started to instruct. He wanted to keep an eye on her but needed to prepare to greet Cheatham. If she lost her nerve now, he wouldn’t know until it was too late. But in the meantime, Drag would try to keep her separated from Cheatham unless he was present.

She wasn’t the only one who was running around skeptical. No, he was fighting off the fears that he’d be betrayed or that all those who’d toasted him minutes before would steal away their support with a mere word. Maybe being around her was making him worse.

“Well, well…Michelson. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen your face.” Moag Cheatham’s voice was still smooth as silk fabric, though it tended to make anyone feel dirty when they heard his words directed at them. This charismatic manipulator had to have secured all his money through questionable means. He was somewhat attractive but his eyes were devoid of life, similar to killers Drag had met.

“Not long enough, if you ask me.”

The man was a liar and lived up to his name. “Then why the hell are you here trying to steal my woman?”

 

* * * *

Bridget set to work. Hearing those haulers came as no surprise. She figured Trio had gotten a message off to Cheatham after leaving her and Drag in that room. When her sponsor had landed, he’d been updated by his spies about the engagement announcement.

She had no option but to get his lodging ready and hope their celebration would throw Cheatham off the real work they were doing.

Since she had already dispatched a group to make up the guest home they kept for the sponsor, everything would be fine. She poured herself a glass of whiskey, a bottle she kept hidden for herself. Raising the glass, she took a good swallow.

“Newly engaged and I had to hear it from my hired help. Shame, Bridget.”

She spit out the drink to stop herself from choking, then started coughing due to the burn in her throat from the little that had evaded her dispel.

“Oh, do you need help?” He touched her back with his thin clammy hand and she recoiled across the kitchen, to the opposite wall.

“I’m. Fine”—another cough, and she swallowed hard as tears gathered at the edges of her eyes—“Give me a minute. You shouldn’t sneak up on people.”

“Seems fitting since you tried to sneak things by me. Did you believe I’d accept this sham of an engagement? I told you after this championship race, your rule here ends and you’ll marry me as your father originally committed to.”

She shrugged. “Drag has a better offer. And as you always say, when you can’t beat them, join them. I wasn’t having much luck with the traditional ways. An alliance would get us the same benefits.”

Cheatham smirked at her. “You’re a real piece of conniving work. Your father never could see how much plotting goes on in that little head of yours. But I do. I even admire it, while you constantly try to work against me.”

“I don’t mean for you to,” she retorted.

“You’re a bitch that needs to be brought to heel. I breed animals, dogs in particular. We race them on a couple Jupiter moons. Far more exciting than what happens here. Think of what kind of life you’ll have enacting your little plans on Callisto, turned toward pursuits that will make me far more crinkle than the scraping of flash that happens here.”

The glass was in her hand, and small flick of her wrist would toss the contents on him. She wanted to. How she longed to show him that he’d have to kill her before she’d consent.

“And Macintosh?”

“You don’t agree, and I’ll burn this damn town and its gang to the ground. It’s simple, Bridget. You know how the game is played and you hold no cards. You already went all in, as they say at the gambling tables.”

She shook her head. “No, I haven’t. You said if I won the race.”

“But you won’t.” He took a step closer, and she dreaded his slimy body anywhere near her. He was muscular, but still lithe and with an easy four inches of height on her. She hated looking up at him.

“Doesn’t it count if I’m married to the racer that wins?”

“A loophole, nice try. You marry him and I’ll kill him.”

“You wanted their racer plans, their technology… This is my way in and you’re already trying to stifle it because of some jealousy. I thought you played a long game better than that?”

She had no choice but to summon the bravado. Hard as hell when she had started to enjoy the moments with Drag where she wasn’t always putting up her guard. She needed to remember that the freedom to be herself wasn’t a reality and might never be.

“Long…more like a century game. I’ll pass an entire lifetime in the amount of time it takes you to get something done. And I’m not jealous of anything, least of all a man who has one arm.” Cheatham took another step toward her right as she saw the main door curtain sweep aside.

“You should be, Moag. I’ve killed men with this here replacement arm. Don’t believe me? You can ask the crowd outside.”

Bridget’s heart soared as Drag entered her home. The idea of him coming to her defense seemed near impossible. She’d expected Cheatham to make his move while Drag was busy interacting with those of Macintosh. She’d never planned on him pulling himself away from the crowd to check on her.

Instead, here he was right within her doorstep, cracking his knuckles and ready to impart violence on her behalf.

“This doesn’t concern you, Michelson. Don’t interfere. A sponsor has a right to discuss misgivings with their gang leader.”

“And it appears as if she already told you how this is going down. She went all in the minute she decided to come back to me.”

What the hell is he saying? Had he heard everything? She hoped not, because those were lies. She’d spoken bullshit with the goal of getting this bastard to let her move forward.

Cheatham laughed, the smooth cadence another mesmeric trick to make people believe he possessed emotion. “You know she’ll betray you as soon as someone else offers her a better deal, right? Might as well cut your losses now.”

“The only thing I’m going to cut is you, if you don’t back off and leave her alone.”

Her sponsor looked at Drag with absolute contempt, then spat in his direction. The fluid landed on her floor about halfway to Drag. “Men have died for less. They don’t dare to challenge me.”

“Well, I do.”

Was this even real life? Drag standing up to Cheatham? She’d dreamed of this one too many times and always woke up to the nightmare that was her life without fail. Now Drag stood here ready to throw down without prompting.

“You’re a true bastard. Not worthy of leadership.”

Drag shrugged as he started to move toward her. “Not the first time someone’s accused me of such and won’t be the last. You’ll need to come up with better insults if you want them to land, Moag.”

“I’m still the sponsor here.”

Bridget tried to keep her smile under control, face impassive, even though she wanted to squeal at seeing Cheatham reduced to so few words. This had to be a record for the man who never wanted to stop talking. Him barely managing a good comeback filled her with delight.

“Yeah, you’re a sponsor.” Drag reached her and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. She couldn’t help but sink into his embrace. With his other hand he took the whiskey glass from her and downed the rest of the drink. “That’s why she prepared your quarters. Kicked a family out of their home for the evening. I’d say you’d do best retiring for the night. Maybe work that sponsorship part with your usual tours of the shipyard, the mines, the mechanic bay and the new airponics setup Full Throttle has helped with. See your benevolence at good work.”

“Is that a threat?” Cheatham had stopped his forward advancement, but his brain was obviously already trying to find a workaround.

“No. I don’t waste time with threats. If you’re expecting something from me, be sure I’ll act before I speak. I just figured you’d want to reassure the good people of Macintosh how happy you are with their work and how this alliance will be benefiting everyone.”

Cheatham’s gaze darted between them, and Bridget was as solemn faced as she could manage. Inside she was a ball of excitement, ready to explode, like a racer revved up at a starting line. If Cheatham didn’t leave soon, she might ruin the moment with her laughter.

“That’s your cue to exit.” Drag motioned toward the front door.

When Cheatham started to move, Drag followed, and Bridget was left without his warm body to support her. She wobbled a bit then stood straight. The fact she let Drag step in was as foreign as him being here. A world of firsts, when she typically had to fight her own battles.

She watched the pair, opposing foes in both manners and looks. The graceful Cheatham in his flowing robes and Drag who was pure bulky muscle and wearing his usual boots, pants and simple shirt getup. Nothing fancy, but the gleam of his cybernetic arm would ensure no one questioned what he chose to wear.

They were also similar in height, but from there the differences were more striking. Drag’s very presence commanded attention whereas she would’ve overlooked Cheatham in a crowd. The one thing that bastard had going for him was his ability to trap people in horrible situations and take away their means of escape.

Not this time.

Cheatham stopped for a brief moment at the entrance, flashing a scathing look at Drag and mumbling about the outrage of being treated so poorly, then the bastard left. Drag took something out of his pocket and placed it beside the door frame. The little black square stuck, and with a press of a button, an electric field covered the entire door with a spark and shimmer.

“What’s that?”

Drag turned around and started to work his way back toward her, with a wicked grin on his face. “Protection, something you’ve been lacking.”

“How do I control it?”

“Better question is what are you going to do for me now that I’ve gotten rid of that sludge sack?”

Not hard to tell what Drag wanted her to do, or at least she could tell he was seeking something physical by the graceful and sleek way he approached. Like a coon cat hunting a goosemert, slow, methodical stalking of a prey, though she wasn’t a flight risk. The last time they’d been together had left her craving more for days.

“What do you want?”

“Strip and I’ll show you.”