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Midnight Lady

Page 13

by Jamie K. Schmidt


  As he played Blackjack on autopilot, Quick wondered about Black Belle too. Was she alive? Did Nicholette get away with killing her.

  After an hour of playing and only breaking even, he decided not to press his luck any further. Tipping the dealer, he asked him where the best place to get the cheapest food was. The dealer directed him a local pizza place called Ambika’s.

  He slid into a booth and ordered a beer and two slices. Quick glanced up at the television and watched a local goat racing game. Just as he was settling the bill, a news report came in and he recognized Cozumel.

  “Hey,” he ran up to the counter. “Can you turn that up? That’s my home town.”

  “Buy another beer,” Ambika said.

  Quick slapped a five down and took the lukewarm bottle. He barely tasted it as he saw the report about how a rogue airship had destroyed the ruins and the Federales were offering a substantial reward for the identification of the airship.

  “You interested in that money?” Quick asked.

  “Yeah, right?” she snorted.

  “Let me use your phone and it’s all yours.”

  “Bugger off.”

  “It’s a free call. What do you have to lose?”

  IN LESS THAN TWENTY-four hours, The Quicksilver ported into Scarborough with a box of cigars for Sameer and fifty thousand dollars for Ambika for her reporting to the Cozumel authorities that not only did she see The Nicholette steal a submarine from a Federale prison a week ago, but she also saw The Nicholette destroying the ruins.

  “Kelly,” Quick said, going in for a hug, after literally kissing the deck of his ship.

  “Oh my gods, do you stink. Go and take a shower.”

  “Any news from Belle or Maggie?”

  “Go!” Kelly pointed in the direction of his cabin. “I’ll catch you up when you’re human again.”

  Quick had a long list of things he was going to do, but when he opened his cabin door and saw Maggie, it all fled.

  He dropped to his knees. “You’re alive.”

  She tackled him to the floor and unlike Kelly, didn’t mind if he stunk like sweat and fish.

  MUCH LATER, AFTER SEVERAL showers, Quick ordered every food he could think of and they ate in his cabin in between making love.

  Nothing else had mattered, but making sure she knew she was his and would not be out of his sight for a long time, if ever. After several hours of sex in every position imaginable, he was ready to talk.

  While she lay across his chest, Quick couldn’t stop touching her. “Where did you wind up?” he finally was able ask.

  “Thailand.”

  “Jaysus. And Belle?”

  “Cozumel.”

  Quick snorted. “Figures.”

  “She had grenades on her. She blew it up from the inside while Nicholette pounded the outside. The vortex collapsed when the ruins were destroyed. She was beaten around and to hear her tell it, she went a few rounds with a shark. But she was in that very spot when Benicio came back twenty minutes later.”

  “How was Thailand?”

  “It would have been better if you were there.”

  He hugged her close. “We’ll go back someday. How did you get back to civilization?”

  “I met a group of activists. They let me tag along with them.”

  “What were they protesting?”

  “The theft of valuable artifacts from sacred places to be sold on the black market. Thailand has an auction that’s known for brokering these deals. I found one of Belle’s associates there and he put me in contact with my mother.”

  “I bet your friends were a little disappointed to find out their latest convert was a pirate.”

  “They were until I told them I would help return the artifacts and museum pieces back to their rightful owners.”

  “You drank the Kool Aid,” Quick said, shaking his head.

  “No, I think I found my purpose. My mother always said, I wasn’t cut throat enough to be a pirate. She always wondered where I got my annoying streak of morality from.”

  “I think we might make you a Syndicate Captain after all.”

  “I don’t do well in groups. I still have a lot of Black Belle’s streaks in me as well.”

  “If we recruited Niles, we can recruit you.”

  “Give it your best sales shot,” she said, rolling over to straddle him.

  Epilogue

  Maggie stood at the wheelhouse of The Midnight Lady. She missed her bar and the patrons, but she couldn’t risk going back as the owner. The Nicholette was still out there. She wouldn’t let herself be such an easy target again. Perhaps once everything died down, she’d join the boys there for poker night.

  “Got the manifests you were looking for, Capn,” Alarna said, handing her the list of stolen artifacts from several worlds. “We’ve got a good lead on where the Eye of Karma is. The Brakavians are offering fifty thousand credits for its safe return.”

  “I’m sure if you negotiate, they’ll throw in a few crates of that licorice, you like so much,” Quick said from the ship-to-ship comm link.

  They had agreed to work together on their individualized projects and travel together when two airships weren’t needed. It gave her the independence she craved, and also the time with the man that she loved.

  “And the Calgarians are still willing to pay a half a million slates for the return of their prince,” Alarna said innocently.

  Ephraim was busy having his own adventures with Black Belle on The Belladonna, although Maggie was sure he’d be spending a lot of time on Castle Crag helping the tribes rebuild.

  “I’ll pass on that one. Let’s go hunt down the Eye of Karma instead.”

  Quick blew her a kiss before turning off the communications. Maggie prepared for the vortex. She took one last look at Cozumel and her old life. There was nostalgia for the good times, but it wasn’t her destiny. As her airship prepared to travel to the Seven Deserts of Mooralon, she glanced down at the ring on her finger.

  Born of pirates, friend of pirates, and married to a pirate. It was only natural that she was now a pirate with her own ship.

  And when the grey vortex welcomed her into the nethersphere, Maggie knew she was where she belonged.

  The End

  The Airship Captains

  The Syndicate:

  Jeremiah Maverick

  Ship: The Genevieve

  Drink of choice: John Jameson Irish Whiskey

  Cargo: Black market items through high risk ports

  ST. JOHN PRESTON

  Ship: The Sigourney

  Drink of choice: Classic martini, shaken, not stirred.

  Cargo: Whatever gives him the most return on his

  investment

  BIG SWEET GLOCKSON

  Ship: The Candyman

  Drink of choice: Beer, lots of it.

  Cargo: Candy and other sugared treats

  NILES BLACK

  Ship: The Blackheart

  Drink of choice: Rum

  Cargo: ???

  QUICK DONNER

  Ship: The Quicksilver

  Drink of choice: Sambuca & coffee

  Cargo: Coffee & Cigars

  FREELANCE CAPTAINS:

  AMOS FLANNERY

  Ship: The Nicholette

  Drink of choice: Wine

  Cargo: Jewelry, exotics, souvenirs from other planets

  BLACK BELLE

  Ship: The Belladonna

  Drink of choice: Whatever is free

  Cargo: Whatever the highest bidder wants

  MARGARET FLANNERY

  Ship: The Midnight Lady

  Drink of choice: Wine

  Cargo: Returning stolen goods to their rightful owners

  Santa Genie Sneak Peak

  It’s Christmas in July!

  Here’s a sneak peak of the first chapter of my holiday paranormal romance, Santa Genie.

  You don’t have to rub the genie for three wishes, but it’s a lot more fun!

  Chapter One

  Working third-
shift security at the lab on Christmas Eve was the only way Melody was going to pay her heating bill that month. Besides, she was almost doing a good deed. Parker had been scheduled to work, but Melody offered to switch. The bear hug he had given her and the image of him reading The Night Before Christmas to his three kids in their pajamas made the empty feeling in Melody’s stomach go away. Well, almost.

  Melody had debated putting up the Christmas tree this year. It was her first holiday since the divorce. Her parents were in Hawaii. Christmas would be just her and her ferret Renaldo. And since Renaldo slept most of the time, he wouldn’t care if Christmas dinner was twenty-four hours later than what the calendar said. But in the end, she decided she would put a tree up when she got home tomorrow morning. It was time for new traditions anyway. But why did starting fresh have to feel so...lonely?

  Walking down the hall, Melody shone her light into each of the locked labs. Nothing was stirring, not even the mice—they were drugged up on the latest test batch. There had been budget cuts so only the safety lights were on. Melody had just a handheld flashlight to light her way. She almost hoped something would jump out at her, like a mutant rat along the lines of the ones in The Princess Bride.

  “ROUSes? I don’t think they exist,” she said in a fake British accent. Melody waited expectantly, but neither a black-clad pirate nor a rat the size of an ottoman appeared.

  She shrugged and moved on. Too bad, she could really use a good pirate. One that would love her madly and take her on grand adventures—as long as those adventures didn’t put her on the mob’s radar again.

  Once Melody was back at her desk in the well-lit lobby, she adjusted her gun belt and sat down. Flicking on the monitors, she scanned the parking lots and exits. Nada.

  A light snow was beginning to fall.

  “Looks like it’s going to be a white Christmas after all,” she said. At least she had control over the office sound system. She put on the Christmas mix she’d spent hours ripping and reorganizing until it was just right.

  “Just like the ones we used to know,” she sang in a half whisper. She looked out the glass doors but saw the ghosts of Christmas past—the good ones anyway. Like the time she and her grandmother spent all Christmas Eve baking pies and dessert for the family.

  Or the Christmas when her parents did a total Gift of the Magi. Her father had sold his computer to buy her mother a dress to go to the opera. But she had sold the opera tickets to buy him a special keyboard that did dorky things. They’d laughed and claimed it was the best Christmas ever. Melody had been eight and couldn’t think of anything sadder than not being able to play with your Christmas presents. Now, she’d give anything to have that be the worst thing to ever happen to her. To have that kind of love.

  Then there were the bad memories of Christmas, which not so coincidentally, included the ones she’d spent with her ex-husband Bobby. Those memories revolved mainly around drinking and hangovers. Spending the holidays in casinos or running from loan sharks. Melody shook her head, hoping to erase the memories—as if her brain was a gigantic Etch-A-Sketch.

  She poured herself a cup of hot black coffee from her Thermos. She took an appreciative sip—the brew would probably last her only half the night, and then she would have to suffer through the vending machine swill.

  Her gaze darted to the Solitaire icon on the computer, and she forced her hand away from the mouse. It would be so easy to play a few hands. But Melody knew where that would lead. She’d soon be logging into an online poker game—no money, just for fun. But that would open the floodgates. Melody knew that she wouldn’t stop until she had swiped her credit card for a mere fifty bucks, just to see if she could still play.

  Before she could think any more about it, she maximized the camera views to take up the entire screen. With a final look at the monitors, Melody opened up a paperback. The motion detectors would ping an alarm if anything out there moved, and her cell phone would remind her when it was time to do another round. As an afterthought, she logged onto NORAD, which was tracking Santa’s route, and watched the big guy fly across Europe.

  Loud pounding on the lab’s front door made her jump up and only stellar reflexes and an inbred sense of self-preservation kept her from spilling her precious coffee. Melody glared outside and saw a powder-blue convertible parked out front—without a driver. She checked her cameras, but no one was outside.

  “Who the heck is knocking?” Melody asked. She set the cameras to record and went outside to take a look. Enabling the building alarm, she unlocked both sets of doors, letting them lock behind her. That way, even if someone managed to take her down and use her keys to get inside, they would set off the internal security and the cops would arrive in minutes. But she didn’t think that would happen. The PETA protestors wouldn’t stage something in December—not when the college kids who made up the majority of their warrior-staff were on vacation.

  “Who the heck is driving with the top down on a night like this?” she wondered, shining her flashlight into the empty front seat.

  “That would be me,” a voice from behind her replied.

  Melody whirled, pulling her pistol from the holster. She held the flashlight and the Glock at a man who had managed to get between her and the doors without her noticing. He was a big man, but his presence wasn’t menacing.

  “Easy,” he said, raising his hands up in surrender. “I didn’t mean to spook you.”

  “Who are you? What do you want?”

  “My name is Karam. The casino told me I could find you here.”

  Karam was swarthy enough to be a pirate. His dark eyes reminded her of the strong-brewed coffee she had in her thermos, deep, rich, and addicting. His shaggy black hair dusted his shoulders. If his face wasn’t so stern, he might even be called handsome. He didn’t look like a knee-breaker, but he did have a grim determination set to his posture. Melody flicked the safety off the pistol.

  “What do you want?” she asked.

  “I need to talk to you about your husband.”

  “Ex-husband. “

  “Right.“ He nodded. “Ex. “

  “Are you a bill collector?”

  “In a matter of speaking.”

  Melody sighed but didn’t lower the pistol. “Look, Bobby and I are divorced. I’m no longer responsible for his debts, and if you think you can get to him through me, don’t waste your time. He left me for a blackjack dealer with huge gazongas after they embezzled several hundred thousands of dollars. Believe me, if I was in on the cut, I would not be working here on Christmas Eve. I don’t know where he is. If I did, I’d tell you. Honestly.”

  “You must have some idea,” Karam said.

  “Somewhere tropical near a casino would be my guess. Puerto Rico, maybe? Monte Carlo?”

  Karam shook his head. “Monte Carlo is too sophisticated for them.”

  “Why are you looking for him?”

  “That blackjack dealer used to be my wife.”

  “Oh.” Melody lowered the pistol, putting the safety back on.

  “And they took my little girl with them.”

  Melody holstered the pistol. “Why don’t you come inside?”

  Karam nodded.

  She undid the locks and then the security alarm once she was inside. Melody could still press the panic button and swing her flashlight at his head if Karam tried anything hinky. She probably shouldn't have invited him in. But no one would know, and if she did get caught she could always say he had car trouble. After all, the two rats he was after were the human kind and not the ones the lab was experimenting on.

  “Coffee?” she asked.

  “Please.”

  She poured him some of her liquid gold into a Styrofoam cup and handed it to him and asked, “Why aren’t you wearing a coat?”

  “I don’t get cold,” he said.

  “I guess that explains the convertible.”

  “That and the roof’s broke. She didn’t just take the casino for money. She cleaned us out too.”

>   Melody could relate. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “It doesn’t matter.” He cupped his large hands around the coffee and stared into it. “What matters is that it’s Christmas. And I know they’re out partying while my daughter is somewhere in a hotel room or alone in a beat-up trailer. I can’t bear it.”

  “What’s her name?”

  “Linda’s my ex. My daughter’s name is Stephanie.” Karam fished into his pocket and pulled out a picture of a girl who was grinning up at the camera. She had her dad’s scraggly black curls, although her eyes were a deep shade of blue.

  “How old is she?”

  “Ten,” Karam said.

  Melody shook her head. “Damn him. I wish I knew where they were.”

  Karam grew very still. “Say that again.”

  “What? I wish I knew where they were?”

  “One more time.” He closed his eyes.

  Melody cocked her head at him. “I do, you know. I really wish I knew where they were.”

  “Thank you,” Karam said and looked up at her.

  His eyes were no longer brown but gold, and he smiled triumphantly.

  “What the hell?” Melody jumped back, sloshing the coffee.

  “Look.” He pointed to her monitors. “That’s my wife, Linda, with your ex.”

  One of them showed a casino floor, instead of the back door of the lab. Sure enough, there were Bobby and Linda hunched together at a blackjack table, no doubt counting cards. They weren’t even trying to hide their faces. Linda was dressed up in a red sequined number that made her look cheap. Bobby was in a polo shirt and khakis, smiling like he didn’t have a care in the world.

  “How did you do that?” Melody asked, sitting down to get a better look at her ex. Why wasn’t the casino’s security on them like white on rice? The facial recognition program should have kicked in by now. Bobby looked happy and relaxed, as if he wasn’t haunted by nightmares of their apartment door being kicked in by thugs with Louisville sluggers.

 

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