Prisoner Princess (Belles & Bullets Book 5)

by Caylen McQueen

  As she playfully pointed her newly-patented gun at her potential buyer, Carol Cassady asked, “Perhaps I could interest you in my newest invention? I'll even give you a discount!” The massive handgun had three separate barrels, which fanned out like a talon. When she waved the gun, her customer ducked behind the counter.

  “Will you please stop aiming that at me, Miss Cassady?” squeaked the middle-aged man with a hefty wallet. “You're making me nervous.”

  “Oh. Yeah. Sorry.” Carol smiled sheepishly as she lowered the gun. “Anyway, I call it a three o'glock. If you really want to kill someone, it doesn't get much better than this bad boy. You just press the trigger once, and all three barrels fire at the same time. Pretty nifty, huh?” She pointed the gun in the direction of the door. “Do you want me to demonstrate for you? Yeah? No? Okay, will do!”

  Just as Carol was about to fire the three o'glock, the door opened, and Kieran McCray stepped into her tiny shop. “Damn!” he exclaimed as he stared down the gun's three barrels. “It's nice to know you still want to kill me after all this time. I must have really left an impression on you.”

  “Uggggh.” The sight of her ex-boyfriend's face made Carol groan so loudly, she practically shook the walls. Lowering the gun, she said, “I don't want to kill you, Kieran. Geez. You came in at the wrong time.”

  “Well... that's good to know.” As he soaked in Carol's appearance, Kieran was shaking his head. She looked just as eccentric as ever. She was wearing a knee-length denim skirt with rainbow-colored stockings. Her feet were encased in a pair of immense red clogs, which added at least three or four inches to her height. She often wore her hair in pigtails, but instead of her usual two braids, she had three. As usual, her violet eyes were enlarged by a pair of huge, thick-rimmed glasses.

  Three people trickled into Carol Cassady's Amazing Mecca of Mechas after Kieran. The first person was a pretty dark-skinned woman who Carol didn't recognize. The other two people were--

  “Tobey!” As Carol dashed toward him, she sharply squealed his name. She tossed her arms around him and squeezed, not realizing his body was a tapestry of wounds. Even though he whimpered, she didn't relent; in fact, she squeezed him tighter. After an extended embrace, Carol finally turned her attention the woman at Tobias' side. Much less enthusiastically, she said, “And Lyneah. Oh. Hi.”

  Lyneah's greeting was equally passionless. She simply said, “Carol.”

  “Who's this?” Carol pointed at Ella, who smiled as sweetly as she could.

  “This is Ella,” Kieran took it upon himself to introduce them. “Ella Clark.”

  Carol's eyes narrowed, but Kieran wasn't sure if she was supposed to look angry or quizzical. “Is she your new girlfriend?”

  “Uh... yes!” Kieran wrapped an arm around Ella's shoulders, pulling her close. He expected one of his companions to protest, but no one did.

  To his surprise, Ella played along. “Uh huh. I'm Kieran's new girlfriend!” She dragged a hand across Kieran's muscled chest and lightly patted his stomach. “We can't keep our hands off of each other!”

  “We can't?” Kieran realized his response sounded more like a question than a fact, so he repeated more confidently, “No, we can't!”

  “Well, she's pretty for sure.” Carol removed her glasses and rubbed her eyes. “To be honest, I thought your life would go to hell after I dumped you in Bordeaux, but it looks like you've done well for yourself. I'm proud of you, Kieran. Totally. So. Proud.” Her clenched teeth said otherwise.

  “What's that in your hand, Carol?” Tobias asked.

  “Oh, this is my three o'glock.” When she suddenly pointed it at Tobey's face, he gasped. “Do you want it?”

  “How much is it?”

  “For you, sweetie, it's free.” Carol practically shoved the gun into Tobey's hand. When her potential buyer started to speak up, she waved him off with a flick of her hand. “I even made a custom holster for it and everything. You'll love it. When people see you waving this puppy around, you'll be the envy of the battlefield!”

  “I, uh...” Tobey looked down at the strange weapon in his hand. “I don't know if I'll be on any battlefields anytime soon, but, uh... thanks.”

  “Soooo, Kieran... you big lummox.” Carol suddenly punched him in the stomach. She hadn't meant to punch him hard, but it took him a few seconds to catch his breath. “What have you been up to and why the hell are you here?”

  “My motocarriage.” Kieran thrust a thumb over his shoulder. “It's parked outside. One of the engines is acting funny.”

  “Acting funny,” Carol repeated in a low voice and a bad accent. She was trying imitate Kieran, but Ella was the only one who chuckled. “How was it acting funny? Was it performing tricks? Telling jokes? Singing songs? Juggling?”

  Kieran sneered at Carol's response. “It's been smoking.”

  “What's it been smoking? A pipe? A cigar? Or something more refined?” Carol was snorting with laughter, but no one else looked amused, so she straightened up and said, “Alright, alright... let me take a look at it! Geez...” On her way out of the shop, she murmured to herself, “you people have no sense of humor, I swear...”

  “Pardon the bullet holes,” Kieran said, pointing at the motocarriage's riddled body. “It's been a, uh... an intense journey.”

  “I can fix that for you, if you'd like,” Carol said as she popped the carriage's hood. “Or not. I mean, the bullet holes kinda give it character.”

  “I can't imagine what kind of character it would give,” added a sighing Kieran.

  “Well, for one, it makes you look like a thug,” Carol said. “Which isn't that far from reality, Kieran. This motocarriage was made for you.”

  Ella tucked an arm around Kieran's waist and pulled him closer. With a proud nod, she defended her faux beau, “My Kieran's not a thug!”

  “Well... my Kieran was a thug, so maybe you've changed him for the better.” Carol suddenly extracted a large wrench from the pocket of her dress and leaned closer to the engine.

  “I'm sorry,” Kieran whispered an apology into Ella's ear. “I'm sorry I lied about us.”

  “Oh, I'm totally fine with it. It's fun,” Ella answered with a smile. “I would happily pretend to be your girlfriend anytime, Kieran.”

  “What if it didn't have to be for pretend?” Kieran asked, but Ella must not have heard him, because she didn't react. He was whispering, and Carol was making a loud crashing noise with her wrench, so Kieran assumed his bold words were lost.

  As Carol tinkered, everyone was quiet. Ella watched the passing clouds, Kieran fiddled with a pocket watch, while Tobey admired his new gun. It was Lyneah who eventually broke the silence when she suddenly said, “Doon.”

  Upon hearing the dreadful word from Lyneah's lips, Kieran looked up. When he saw his nemesis swaggering toward them, he belted a groan that could rival a rumble of thunder. “Bloody hell!” Kieran exclaimed. “If it isn't Francis bloody Doon... my least favorite person in the world.”

  “Awww!” When Carol looked up from the engine, she was pouting, “I thought I was your least favorite person in the world!”

  “Sorry to disappoint you, love, but you're not even close. You're not even in my top ten.” Kieran leaned against the motocarriage and crossed his arms. “Doon, on the other hand...”

  When he saw the familiar faces surrounding him, Doon had to fight to keep the smile from his face. “It's dreadful to see you too, McCray,” he said, then turned his attention to Tobias. “And I'm glad to see you're not dead, Tobey. Kitt'll be happy to see you.”

  “I'm glad I'm not dead too.” Tobias and Doon greeted with a handshake and a bump of their shoulders. “How is Kitt?”

  “She's well, but I think I frustrate her. What's new, right?” Doon acknowledged Lyneah's presence with a nod. “I didn't expect to see the Queen of Englund in this tiny pustule of a town, but... it's nice to see you too, Your Highness.”

  “Heeeey!” Carol waved her wrench at Doon. “My town's not a pustule, thank you ve
ry much! You, sir, can keep your opinions to yourself!” Having said her piece, Carol got right back to work.

  As everyone chatted, Ella could feel herself shrinking behind Kieran. It was awkward to be the only person who wasn't part of their personal history. When Doon's gaze briefly landed on her, she nearly introduced herself as Kieran's girlfriend again, but she didn't know how Kieran would feel about it, so she kept her lips shut.

  “So...” Doon stepped closer to Carol, who was busy with Kieran's engine. “I was wondering if you'd take a look at my airship, Carol. It was damaged in a ship battle. It--”

  “Ha!” Kieran interrupted with a cackle. “The mighty Doon's airship was damaged? I never thought I'd see the day!”

  “Well, it looks like your piece of shit vehicle isn't doing much better, McCray.” Doon casually plucked a cigarette from the pocket of his trench coat. As he lit it, he said to Tobey, “When you speak to Kitt, would you kindly tell her you didn't see me smoking?”

  Tobey shook his head and winked. “Oh, are you smoking? I didn't notice.”

  “Good lad.” Once he had Tobey's support, Doon's attention was back on Carol, who studied his cigarette with a sneer. Her distaste for his habit was as obvious as Kitt's. “So, Miss Cassady... would you take a look at my airship?”

  “Sure. Why not? It's what I do, right? But you'll have to give me some time to work on Kieran's engine first.” Carol stepped away from the motocarriage and wiped her hands down the front of her dress. “I need to grab some tools. I'll be right back.”

  When Carol was gone, Kieran's glare intensified. Francis Doon's face was the last thing he wanted to see. After all, Doon was the reason he had a limp. Doon was his brother's murderer. Doon's face was a reminder of his one and only failure.

  “So... how long are you going to keep hating me, McCray? A week? Another year? Forever?” As Doon asked the question, he stood beside Tobias and brought his cigarette to his lips.

  “Forever seems likely,” Kieran coldly replied. “And you don't have to stand with the rest of us, you know. You could always go back to your airship and wait for Carol to join you there.”

  “I think I'll stay here, if you don't mind,” Doon said with a smirk. “Did you really think I'd pass on an opportunity to linger where I'm not wanted?”

  Twenty Four

  “And... let there be light.”

  As Jackal whispered the words, he lifted the black bag that covered Julian Featherstone's head. Lettie, Julian and Jared were sitting in a circle, tied to chairs. He wanted them to be able to see each other. In Jackal's twisted mind, misery was more fun when it was shared with friends.

  “Good evening, gentleman. Lady.” Jackal pointed his bull whip at Lettie. “Do you know why you're here today? No? Then let me tell you...” Without warning, Jackal leapt onto a table in the center of the room. Lettie thought he looked ridiculous. He was wearing a long leather coat, high black boots, and a pair of pinstripe breeches. His face was painted white, his lips were painted red, and there was an unusually small bowler hat on his head. “We've all gathered here because Jackal wanted to have a bit of fun, and President Gareth said I could. You know, I never really liked President Gareth, but now that he's letting me do this, I might have to change my mind... because I'm really going to enjoy this.” Jackal's tongue slipped out to lick his crimson lips. When he did, some of his lipstick was smeared on his chin.

  Julian tried to struggle against the bindings that held him, but they were tied so tightly, the ropes seared his wrists every time he moved. When his eyes met Lettie's, he frowned. For some odd reason, he was more concerned for her than he was for himself.

  “We're going to play a little game today,” Jackal told them as he crouched on the table. He looked like a hunkering cat, ready to pounce. “I like to call this game Chivalry. Don't worry, the rules are simple. I don't like complex things.” As he scanned the faces of his three terrified prisoners, Jackal's teeth were bared by a grin. He couldn't wait to tell his guests what he had in store for them. His heart beat a tattoo of mad anticipation against his chest.

  When Jackal spoke again, his voice was low and cold. “I'm going to do something horrible to one of you.” He pointed at Julian and Jared. “First, I'll offer the pain to the men. If you think it's too much for you to handle, you can pass it to the pretty young lady over here.” He flicked a finger in Lettie's direction. “If you're chivalrous, you won't want to see her hurt. You boys will take the pain for yourselves. But if you're smart... welllll...” Jackal shrugged. “I don't think it's necessary for me to finish that sentence. Do you think it's necessary?”

  Jackal's eyes burned into Jared's, who slowly shook his head. “I think I'll start with you, young man, since you look more frightened than these two. I like to start with the frightened ones... don't ask me why.” Jackal jumped down from the table and extracted a long, curved knife from the pocket of his coat. “Are you ready for the first round of the game?”

  Jared opened his mouth, but nothing came out of it.

  “What's your name, boy?” Jackal gently ran the tip of his blade along Jared's red hairline. He wasn't cutting him—for now, he was only teasing him.

  “Jared... Foster.” Jared's throat bobbed as he swallowed hard.

  “Well, Jared... Foster. I'm going to make you an offer. And it's a very generous offer, if you ask me.” Jackal suddenly threw back his head and yowled with laughter. The sudden outburst of noise made Jared's shoulders jump. “I can cut you... or I can cut Miss Lettie over there. What do you say, young Jared? What's your choice?”

  “Me.” Jared didn't hesitate. “I would never want you to hurt her. Never.”

  “Well then, if that's the case, you should probably prepare yourself for a truly terrible day!” Jackal laughed. The tip of his knife suddenly dove into Jared's soft flesh, carving a long, thin line along the young prisoner's forearm. Jared's eyelashes fluttered from the pain, but he didn't say a word.

  “Now it's your turn, Jeeoooolian Featherstone!” Jackal clapped his hands together as he approached his next victim. “Do you want a nice, long cut... or are you going to pass it off to the lovely Lettie?”

  Julian's answer didn't come quite as quickly. The sight of the blood pouring from Jared's wound made him pause, but not for long. “Go ahead,” Julian quietly resigned himself. “Do it. Give it to me.”

  After Jared noiselessly received his punishment, Julian was determined to do the same. But as soon as the knife sliced into his arm, his determination was forgotten. An array of curses flew from Julian's lips.

  “Hmm. It sounded like the boy handled that better than you,” Jackal said as he patted Julian's shoulder. “But don't feel bad. I'm going to give you another chance to prove yourself, Julian. JuJu. Jules.” Jackal pulled a lighter from his pocket and flicked it, igniting its tiny flame. “I'm going to burn you. Or Lettie. It's your choice, really.”

  Julian shook his head. When he looked down at the cut on his arm, his stomach clenched. And it was only the beginning.

  “Why are you shaking your head, darling?” Jackal asked him. “I don't know what that means. You better give me a clearer answer next time, or I'll cut off your nose next.”

  “Me,” Julian spat his answer. “If you're going to hurt someone, hurt me.” Though he didn't look directly at her, Julian could see Lettie's grimace.

  “Good answer. Brave answer,” Jackal said. “Are you ready, then? Because this is going to hurt.”

  Jackal flattened Julian's fingers against the arm of the chair and brought the small flame to Julian's knuckles, roasting them. The baron sucked his lips into his mouth and tried to stay silent, but the pain was worse than anything he had ever experienced. It was excruciating, and Jackal didn't relent until Julian had a deep, red burn covering the back of his hand.

  Jackal tossed the lighter aside and returned to Jared. “I've a different toy for you, Jared... Foster.” A disturbingly sweet smile hovered on Jackal's lips as he pulled a pair of silver pliers from the pocket of
his coat. “Do you know what these are for? Do you have a guess?”

  “I don't know,” Jared croaked. A thick coat of perspiration already soaked his forehead, and the deluge of sweat would surely continue as their torture progressed. “Are you going to pull out a tooth?”

  “Ding ding ding! That's the right answer! That's two points for young Mr. Foster!” Jackal excitedly clapped his hands. “Now, are you going to sacrifice a tooth for Lettie or not?”

  Jared repeated his answer from before. “I'd never want you to hurt Lettie.”

  “You're a very chivalrous young man. Is it too soon to say you win the game?” Jackal cackled to himself. “Now... open wide. I'll try to take a tooth you won't need.”

  Jared's lips didn't part, they trembled.

  “Open wide, I said!” Jackal whacked his head with the pliers. “If you don't, I'll cut out your tongue instead. And then I'll cut out the girl's tongue, just because I can!”

  As Jared opened his mouth, a soft whimper escaped him. Jackal's pliers latched onto one of Jared's top canine teeth. There was a terrible cracking and popping noise as he twisted it out. Jared started to cry as Jackal's pliers wiggled the tooth back and forth. After a final, furious yank, it was free.

  “Eww,” Jackal groaned as he tossed the tooth aside. “That was awful. And brutal. I felt your pain a little bit, Jared. I really did.” Jackal smeared a bit of Jared's blood across his own cheek. “Unfortunately, it's your turn again, so you won't even have time to recover! Boo hoo to you.”

  “Go to hell!” Jared spat blood at Jackal, but it only made him look happier.

  “I'm going to have to punish you for that, little man.” As he spoke, Jackal squeezed Jared's cheeks together. “I think I'm going to have to move things along a little faster. I want to get to the good stuff.” He pointed at Jared's wrist. “Somebody's going to lose a hand today... and you get to decide who it is! You... or the girl.”

  Lettie, who had been silent for some time, finally cried out, “You bastard!” She tried to wriggle back and forth in her chair, but it was useless. She wasn't going anywhere. “Don't listen to him, Jared! He's bluffing! He wouldn't hurt me! He wouldn't be allowed to hurt me! They're using me to negotiate with my father, so they wouldn't mutilate me first!”