A Broken Outlaw (Belles & Bullets Book 7)

by Caylen McQueen

  When Lloyd took out a jar of mashed bananas for babies, Flynn's forehead creased. “Oh, I'm not insultin' you or calling you a baby or nothin' like that,” Lloyd explained. “Floyd don't have any teeth, so he only eats baby food and oatmeal... which explains why I feeded you oatmeal for the last few days, right?” Lloyd brought a spoonful of mashed banana to Flynn's lips, but they didn't open. “I keep trying to tell him he can still eat other stuff, but he likes it to slide right down. And I keep tryin' to tell him he could get a decent pair of false teeths, but I guess he's not interested.”

  Flynn turned his head away from Lloyd's spoon and icily declared, “I'm not hungry.”

  “Oh, come on!” Lloyd's spoon chased him, forced its way through Flynn's lips, and clunked against clenched teeth. “Don't be like that! You've gotta be hungry!”

  Flynn turned his head again. “But I'm not.”

  “Yes you are! Now open up, or I'll cut out your tongue for being a disagreeable little--”

  “Don't make the boy eat it if he doesn't want it.”

  When the deep feminine voice echoed throughout the room, Flynn glanced in the direction of the door. Had the voice not sounded distinctly like a woman's, he might have thought he was looking at a man. She was tall and broad, with short black hair and a strong, square jaw. Two pistols were strapped to her hips, and she carried a sword on her back.

  “Oh. Hey, boss.” Lloyd promptly returned the spoon to the jar and abandoned his hunt for Flynn's mouth. “You finally got here.”

  “Uh huh. And I see you're just as much of an idiot as ever... chasing this poor boy's mouth with a spoon and trying to force feed him like a baby!” The woman stood directly in front of Flynn and slipped a cigar through her lips. When she spoke again, the cigar wagged. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

  “Me or the boy?”

  “You.”

  “Oh, uh... right.” Lloyd scratched his filthy cheek. “But he's gotta be hungry.”

  “If he was hungry enough, he would've eaten it.” The cigar smoke swirled from her lips and billowed around Flynn's face, making him flinch. “But since he didn't want it, why don't you leave him alone?”

  “Aye. I will,” Lloyd conceded.

  “And why's he wearing a collar?” the woman asked, jabbing her cigar in the direction of the metal slab on Flynn's throat. “He's not a damn dog.”

  “We thought it'd discourage him from moving too much, boss. We--”

  “Well, take it off!” she commanded him. “The cuffed wrists are good enough. You don't need to degrade him like this.”

  “O-okay...”

  Lloyd immediately and sheepishly removed the collar. As soon as it was off, the woman ran a finger along Flynn's red neck. She was much gentler than he expected her to be, especially after Floyd and Lloyd spent the last three days making him feel like the arrival of “the boss” would be the end of him.

  “So...” the woman spoke again. “You're Flynn Cole?”

  He nodded slowly.

  “I'm Hu Lian,” she said. “You can just call me Lian, if you want.”

  Behind her, Lloyd was visibly sulking. He hadn't been given permission to call her by her name.

  “So, as you might already know, we're taking you to Busybee, where they're offering a four hundred dollar reward for your capture,” Lian explained. “Believe me, it's nothing personal... we just need a big pay day.”

  “The boy killed Douglas,” grumbled Lloyd, who glowered at Flynn over his boss' shoulder. “Ain't you gonna punish him for killing Douglas?”

  “No.” Lian had taken another drag from her cigar, so when she spoke again, another burst of smoke wafted toward Flynn. “He was only trying to defend himself. You can't punish him for that.”

  Before Lloyd could protest, the door opened again, and a second woman squeezed her way into Flynn's cell. When the two women greeted with a kiss, Flynn's eyes widened.

  “This is Vee,” Lian introduced her lover. “She's my partner.”

  “Partner?” Vee laughed. “That's news to me. I thought you were the one running this show.”

  “I am. But you're my partner in a lot of ways, sweetheart.” Lian's answer seemed to satisfy Vee, who smiled contentedly.

  Throughout the entire discussion, Flynn didn't say a word. Lian and Vee weren't the sort of women who left him tongue-tied, he just didn't feel like speaking.

  “So... Flynn...” Hu Lian slipped an arm around Vee's back as she addressed her captive. “I don't know if you've figured this out, but you're on an airship right now.”

  “An old Eversio airship,” Vee added under her breath. Several months ago, on the very same airship, Emperor Nico was locked in a nearby cargo room. It was a memory only she could appreciate.

  “We're taking off in a few minutes, but we'll be making a little detour first,” Lian told him. “I need to make an appearance at my brother's wedding.”

  Vee's face suddenly twisted with disgust. “Prince Feng's her brother. I've heard a lot of stories about him. My god, what an asshole!”

  Ignoring her girlfriend's opinion, Lian continued, “Emperor Ju-long is my father, and my mother was one of his concubines. I don't get any of the imperial family's money... hence, the reason I'm a bounty hunter.”

  “But she's still good enough to attend the occasional family wedding,” Vee added again.

  “Anyway...” Lian went on, sounding a bit annoyed. “I've been invited to my brother's wedding, so I should probably attend. Jun will be his first and only wife, so it's kind of a huge deal.”

  At long last, Flynn finally found a reason to speak. It was only one word, but he said it with a gasp. “Jun?”

  “Uh huh. That's the name of my brother's bride. Shuchun Jun. To be honest, I don't know why he'd want to marry this girl. She was supposed to marry my father, but then she ran away... and now Prince Feng seems to want her for himself, don't ask me why. I would never marry someone who didn't want me.” Lian tapped on her cigar, scattering its ashes on the ground. Then Vee pried the cigar from her lover's fingers, claiming it for herself. Lian didn't object.

  “When is the wedding?” Though he tried not to sound too terribly interested, Flynn's heart secretly suffered at the thought of Jun marrying someone else.

  “Tomorrow,” replied Lian, who shared a smoky kiss with Vee after answering his question.

  Flynn didn't say anything else, nor did he pay attention to any of the conversation that followed. His mind was consumed by a single thought.

  Somehow, he needed to stop Jun's wedding.

  Three

  As part of his punishment, for the fourth day in a row, the Hershalls subjected Nicky Gunn to a dose of soul-destroying humiliation. First, they made him dress up as a clown and participate in Lordon Flair's Sharpshooter Extravaganza. Wearing a fuzzy red wig and oversized slippers, he had to stand still while Lordon shot a stick from his mouth. For the rest of his life, he would have to live with the memory of bullets whizzing within an inch of his face. And for the rest of the week, he would have to suffer with an itchy red rash. Apparently, he was allergic to the clown's face makeup.

  On day two, they dressed him as a preacher and shoved him in front of a confused congregation. Nicky had to muddle through a speech about fire and brimstone, hell and damnation—and surprisingly, the people reacted to it. At the end of the day, the Hershalls' non-existent church received eleven dollars and forty-seven cents in donations. They were so impressed by their earnings, they retried their scam the very next day. Unfortunately, the sheriff of Gold City caught on to their act and chased them out of town.

  Of course, they were saving their best punishment for the end. Nicky was going to be featured in a “hoochie coochie” show during Yooma's annual Grand Fair.

  “Let's get you dolled up!” shouted Ed, who shoved Nicky onto a wobbly stool. “I don't know nothin' about women's makeup, but it can't be that hard to figger out... right?”

  “Please don't make me do this,” Nicky whimpered. “Please. Please.
Pleeease.”

  “You can cry all you want, but you ain't getting out of this!” Ed swabbed an ample amount of bright blue eyeshadow on Nicky's left eyelid. Satisfied, he turned his attention to the other eyelid and said, “I'm making you so beautiful. Just wait til you see!”

  “Really?” Nicky sounded skeptical.

  “Uh huh. You're a real looker, Nicky Gunn. A real real looker.”

  Nicky's entire body shuddered at Ed's compliment. Over the last few days, he was starting to get an odd feeling that Ed fancied him. Every once in awhile, Ed would grab his rear end or ruffle his hair, but it hadn't gone beyond that. Thank God.

  When the eyeshadow was complete, Ed smeared an excessive amount of rouge onto Nicky's full lips. He applied it so liberally, the color extended well beyond the boundaries of Nicky's mouth, but he didn't seem to notice. “You've got nice lips, boy,” Ed complimented him again. “Hell, after putting this color on you, I'm almost tempted to kiss you myself.”

  “Pleeeease don't,” Nicky begged him in a pained, panicked voice.

  “I ain't gonna!” Ed barked at him, sounding a bit offended. “I just wanted to tell you you got some... real nice qualities.”

  A minute later, the makeup application was finished. Ed completed Nicky's new look with a curly black wig, which was waist-length, tangled, and cheaply made. As soon as Nicky saw his reflection, the young man shrieked at the sight of himself.

  “I look awful!” Nicky moaned. “Hideous! I wouldn't sleep with me if I was the last woman on earth!”

  “Naaah. I don't think it's so bad, boy!” Ed gave Nicky's thigh an encouraging—and slightly inappropriate—squeeze. “If I squint, you almost look purdy.”

  “Nooooo!” Nicky threw back his head and whined to the ceiling. “I hate my life right now!” And he hated it even more when Logan entered with a pair of crimson high heels and forced them onto Nicky's feet. Not only were they too tight, walking in them was practically impossible. Nicky barely took two steps forward before he tumbled into Ed Hershall's lap.

  When Ed patted his rear for the dozenth time, Nicky bellowed a disgusted groan. Because he wanted to get away from the handsy Hershall as quickly as possible, the next time Nicky was on his feet, he excelled at walking. The high heels gave him no trouble when he desperately needed to flee from Ed.

  Logan led him to a bawdy red tent at the edge of the fairgrounds. Along the way, he explained to Nicky, “I'll be standing behind the curtain with a gun pointed at your back. You've got to do everything I say, or you can look forward to picking a bullet out of your spine.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” Nicky muttered. “You're not telling me anything I don't already know.”

  “And you ain't allowed to leave the stage until I tell you to.” When they reached the tent, Logan pressed the barrel of the gun against Nicky's nape. “Now go.”

  Nicky was already tall, and because the shoes added a few more inches to his height, he had to duck to enter the tent. As he climbed the stairs to the stage, he walked a bit bow-legged, which was the only way he could keep his balance in the cumbersome high heels. He was met with mostly boos from the audience—as well as a single catcall, which came from the direction of Ed Hershall. Only Ed seemed to think he was a looker.

  As the live band played a tawdry tune, Logan whispered from behind the curtain, “Dance.” Nicky kicked up his feet and lumbered about, which earned him a second round of boos from the dissatisfied crowd.

  “Shake what yer mama gave you, boy,” Logan hissed, so Nicky shimmied around the stage, shaking his shoulders and swinging his hips. Ed whistled sharply, but everyone else looked stunned or disgusted. Or both.

  “Show us yer bloomers!” demanded Logan, who sniggered behind the curtain. Apparently, Nicky's misery was his joy.

  Nicky whined like a forsaken puppy. “But I don't want to!”

  “Do it!” his captor hissed. “Do it if you don't want a bullet in you!”

  With a capitulatory sigh, Nicky turned his back to the audience, bent over, and lifted the back of his dress, showing off his puffy white undergarments. Ed howled, but no one else seemed to be enjoying the show. In fact, an especially disgruntled audience member lobbed a head of lettuce and a tomato at Nicky's exposed rear end.

  “Hey!” Nicky roared as the tomato splattered against his undergarments. “Who threw this?” He picked up the remains of the tomato and addressed the audience. “Tell me! Who tossed the damn tomato?”

  A second tomato flew at Nicky's head, and then another. Within seconds, his pretty white dress was ruined by tomato juice.

  Hungry for revenge, Nicky chucked a tomato at one of the hecklers, who booed loudly as the fruit soared over his head.

  “Dance, you bastard!” Behind the curtain, Logan grumbled another command. “You're forgetting to dance!”

  The next time Nicky kicked up his feet, his high heel skidded across the remnants of a splattered tomato. A second later, he fell flat on his bottom. For the first time, the audience was satisfied by his performance. Every last person exploded with laughter, especially Logan Hershall, who was loving every second of Nicky's humiliation. Even the pianist stopped playing to indulge in a chuckle.

  “You're all asses! All of you!” Nicky hollered. As he climbed to his feet, his black wig slipped, covering half of his face. The askew wig won him another round of laughter and applause from the frenzied crowd.

  “Alright, boy,” said Logan, who was wiping tears from the corners of his eyes. “You're done. You can exit the stage.”

  Nicky removed the high heels and stomped down the stairs, where he was met by Ed.

  “Good show, Mr. Gunn,” Ed commended him. “I'd ask for an encore, but judging from the scowl on that pretty little brow of yours, you ain't in the mood.”

  “Go to hell, Ed,” Nicky barked at him, which predictably earned him another slap on the rear from the younger Hershall brother. “And will you stop slapping me? You can't keep your hands off of me for one second, I swear. Good lord, if I didn't know any better, I'd think you were attracted to me!”

  Ed didn't confirm or deny it. He simply licked his lips.

  Nicky stormed into another tent, where he stripped off his dress and reunited with his breeches. He removed the lip color easily enough, but when he tried to scrub off the eyeshadow, it clung to his lids. When he tore off the wig, Nicky's own hair looked greasy and wild. The Hershalls weren't fans of baths; naturally, they allowed Nicky no time for personal hygiene. He smelled worse than he had smelled in ages.

  “We're meeting Logan in the desert,” Ed informed him. “Are you ready to go yet?”

  “As ready as I'll ever be,” Nicky sighed through his reply. He still had some makeup on his face, but he didn't feel like putting forth the effort to remove it properly. “But... why aren't we spending the night in Yooma? Don't you guys own a hotel here?”

  “That hotel ain't ours. We was squattin'.” Ed explained. “Besides, Logan wants to get going. We have, uh... we have business in the desert.”

  As soon as they were ready to depart, Ed shoved him on the back of a horse and rode in the direction of the setting sun. Ed sang through the entire ride. More often than not, his voice was sour and sharp, so by the time they reached their destination, Nicky was wishing he could rip off his ears and toss them across the desert.

  “You're a real beauty, darlin',” said Logan Hershall, who was sitting by a fire with a young, buxom blonde. He buried his lips against the woman's neck and playfully gobbled her skin, making her giggle uncontrollably.

  “And who the hell is this?” asked Ed, who turned his back to everyone, unbuttoned his breeches, and relieved himself in the middle of speaking. “You've got a new girl every day, Logan, I swear.”

  “Naaah,” Logan disagreed. “Minnie's special, though.”

  “Yeah, I bet she is.” Ed snorted, turned his eyes skyward, and whistled. When he finished peeing, he prepared their food—and Nicky lost his appetite, because Ed's filthy hands were even filthier than usual.


  “You're real special too, Logan,” cooed Minnie, who ran a hand along Logan Hershall's thigh. Nicky sat by the fire and watched, disgusted. He assumed Minnie was either mad or desperate, because no sane woman would willingly touch a Hershall brother, not without reasonable incentive.

  She must have realized Nicky was watching her, because she pointed in his direction and asked, “Who's he?”

  “That's Nicky Gunn. He's our prisoner. Sort of,” Logan explained. “But don't go feelin' sorry for him. He deserves everything that's coming to him, I swear.”

  “Oh, I know, Logie Wogie Hershie Wershie!” Minnie squealed. “I would never doubt you!” She suddenly pulled Logan's face into her cleavage, and for the next few seconds, he had his face buried between her breasts.

  Nicky couldn't stand to see them snuggling, cuddling, fondling and flirting, so he ate his dinner as fast as he could and crushed his face against a pillow. Without a bed, Nicky always struggled to sleep, but after three nights of tossing and turning, exhaustion finally conquered his mind. Within twenty minutes, the sandman welcomed him into a pleasant dream. Specifically, he dreamed of Jun. Her long black hair was whipped by the wind, her dark eyes were bright and shining, and her skin was every bit as soft as he imagined it would be.

  Just as Jun was about to climb into his bed, a scream momentarily shook him from sleep. Nicky opened one eye, and when he did, he saw Logan Hershall carrying Minnie over a hill.

  Thinking nothing of it, he closed his hazy eye and returned to Jun's arms.

  Four

  “Aaaand done!” Carol announced as she fastened the final strap to Josiah's shoulder. The gun arm was easily her deadliest weapon ever, and it was her favorite replacement for her friend's missing appendage.

  “It's not as heavy as I thought.” Josiah slipped a cigarette from the pocket of his breeches, lit it, and stuck it in the corner of his mouth.