Heart of Steel - Meljean Brook [24]
“Or . . . ?”
His gaze flicked to the bracelet. Constructed of copper, the segmented casing concealed the delicate clockworks and springs inside, as well as a dozen small needles that pierced skin and injected a deadly dose of poison. A terrible device, it had been outlawed in most of the New World—and in Port Fallow, was ridiculously easy to obtain. The bracelet could only be removed if the segments were rotated in the correct order; the wrong sequence activated the springs, injecting the poison.
Of course, a bracelet that could be worn without fear wasn’t enough—a slave could run away and live, as long as he took care not to twist the segments. Something had to guarantee the property would come back.
She sat up, running her fingers over the hairline joints in the copper casing. “Did you set the timer?”
“For one hour.”
“These contraptions are notoriously unreliable.”
“So am I.” He rose, ducking his head beneath the steeply sloped roof. “The bracelet flatters you. I wouldn’t bother to take these precautions with anyone else, but I know very well how quick you are.”
After boarding her airship in Venice, he’d stood with his back to the rope ladder, pulled out his gun—useless though it was, the gunpowder soaked through—and aimed it at her. A moment later, Captain Corsair simply hadn’t been standing in that spot anymore. She hadn’t been anywhere on the deck. He’d barely had time to draw a breath before she’d come up behind him—up the outside hull of her ship—and dragged him over the gunwale.
Her lips pursed. “So the bracelet is your revenge, then.”
“Revenge because you threw me off your ship?” Did she think he blamed her for that? Surprised, he shook his head. Someone would have to wrong him before he’d ever take revenge. “You were justified. No, that bracelet is only to make certain that you don’t throw me off it again before you give me the sketch.”
“I might still—and I’ll make certain to drop you to the ground rather than the water this time.”
“Ah!” Elation lifted through him. He braced his hands against the sloping roof and leaned in close. “I knew you spared me. Shall I tell you what I thought as you dangled me over the mob of zombies?”
“Return the favor and spare me whatever idiot thought it was.”
“No, not idiotic.” He waited until she looked up from the bracelet and met his eyes. “I thought, Finally, the mysterious and beautiful Captain Corsair is holding me in her arms. And I swore that you would again.”
Her brows rose. “And what part of that isn’t idiotic?”
“You’ll see. I have a collection of fine waistcoats and a handsome face.” He stepped back to let her take in the full effect of both, and her smile spread to the edge of a laugh. Perfect. “You’ve already proven susceptible to them, and refrained from killing me at least twice: when you discovered who my father was after I first boarded your airship, and again when you threw me from it. I’m certain that means we’re destined to be together.”
“That it does, but only until our business concludes—and I still want fifty percent.”
If Archimedes could, he’d have given it to her. “You’ll only get the standard twenty-five.”
“I prefer your sister’s offer.”
“Mine isn’t negotiable.”
“Isn’t it?”
“No.”
She regarded him for a long moment before shrugging. “I suppose twenty-five percent is still a goodly sum,” she said. “Can you give me any assurance that I’ll receive it after the auction?”
“Do you trust my word?”
“No.” Despite her smile, her eyes were hard as polished agates. “I’ll take you to the Ivory Market on my lady.”
“Can you give me any assurance that I’ll reach the market alive?”
“Do you trust my word?”
He grinned. “No.”
“Then we don’t—”
“I’ll see that you get your share,” he said. “Because if you don’t, I know you’ll find me—and I’m tired of being chased down for money. So I’ll find you instead.”
“You won’t need to find me. I’ll meet you at the market.”
Of course she would. He expected to see Lady Corsair riding the tailwind of his hired airship from the moment