Heart of a Peacekeeper

by Angela Verdenius

  "Yes, Sir.” The pilot inclined his head.

  Staying inside the ship wasn't an option now. If it couldn't fly, it was useless. But there were fighter crafts outside, and they could be used if necessary.

  Meanwhile, the settlement was still his, and he intended to make sure none forgot him.

  Once the outside door slid open, he stepped outside to find his three personal guards, one of them Zared, waiting for him, their faces impassive.

  Without saying a word, Canute pointed to the tavern across the street.

  Falling in around him, they followed him to the tavern. When he stepped inside, he saw the woman waiting for him, sitting in the chair in the corner of the room.

  Getting up, she smiled. “Hello, Canute. Finally we meet."

  * * * *

  The fires burned hot, bright, destroying all in its path. The outlaws laughed, firing their lasers in the air, shooting any settler stupid enough to try and leave their homes or the doomed settlement.

  When the pursuit craft crashed into the Canute's ship, it shocked the outlaws.

  "Hell!” one of them whispered in awe.

  His friend could only stare at the big ship as it crashed to the ground and settled with sparks and damaged metal creaking.

  When they saw Canute emerge from the ship, they moved back into the shadows, not wanting him to spot them and maybe take some of his anger out on them. Canute wasn't the most even-tempered of men.

  Turning to face the fires again, the first outlaw started. From behind the flames of the fire and the billowing smoke strode giants, seeming to come out of the very smoke itself. Hooded, cloaked, long swaths of cloth wrapped around the lower parts of their faces, they were menacing. Brooding. Dangerous. As though Heaven itself had sent its own warriors to wreak vengeance.

  Fire flickered in front of them and smoke obscured them from sight again.

  "What the hell...” Unnerved, he clutched his laser.

  "What's wrong?” Also jumpy now that the attack had brought down Canute's ship, his friend looked around.

  "I thought I saw some ... things."

  "Things?"

  "Giants."

  Frowning, his friend shook his head. “Idiot. Who would be dumb enough to walk right into the settlement?"

  "We would,” a deep voice rumbled behind them.

  Before either could turn around, big hands grabbed their heads and smashed them together with a sickening thud.

  They fell unconscious to the ground. No one saw them being dragged back into the smoke.

  Like giant wraiths the strangers came through the smoke, appearing and disappearing, yet not seen. Melting into the background, leaving vengeance in their wake.

  * * * *

  Her calf was killing her. Wishing desperately for the bottle of analgesia, Des knew her old injuries would be felt even more if it weren't for the adrenaline pumping through her.

  The outlaws were scouring the settlement for her, but only near the wrecked ship. She'd seen Canute come from the ship, seen the three hard-eyed men who'd come after her surround him and take him to the tavern.

  Gracie's tavern. The only place that could be a safe haven for her to plot. The only place where she had a chance of killing him and breaking the leadership up. Without a leader, some of the outlaws might run, be more careless. They feared him, she could tell by the way some of them shrank from him.

  From what they said.

  Shifting slightly on the rooftop of Gracie's tavern, Des winced. Her landing hadn't been an easy one. The resulting blast of the pursuit craft crashing into the ship had sent her flying, but she'd survived, mainly because she'd landed on the roof and had rolled partway down the back of it, partly away from the worst of the blast. She'd had some protection.

  That she knew of, no one had seen where she'd landed, for all eyes would have been on the ship.

  She hoped.

  Crawling over to the back of the tavern, she peered down. There were a couple of outlaws down below, but they went around the side of the tavern and out of sight.

  As quietly as she could, she slid down the roof on her stomach, caught hold of the storm pipe and slid down to the verandah, half expecting a shout or laser burn any second. Relief filled her when she reached the verandah roof undetected.

  In a crouch, she moved to the window and peered around for anyone watching before peeking inside to see the room empty. Sliding open the window, she slipped into the room and slid it shut behind her again.

  This was Gracie's room. It smelled of perfume and make-up, and her rich gowns were draped over chairs and the end of the bed, awaiting the maid to clean it up come morning. Gracie had obviously left in a hurry, from the looks of it.

  Moving across the room, she halted when the sound of voices sounded down the corridor, coming closer. There were two male voices and one female, and the female was shrieking.

  Gracie was still here, and she was not happy.

  Quickly Des lay down and rolled beneath the bed, pulling the satin coverlet partly down so that it covered where she lay.

  The door crashed open and Gracie came in, still shrieking. “How dare he! How dare he hit me!"

  "Be grateful he didn't do worse, bitch,” a man snarled.

  "He has no right! I haven't done anything to him!"

  "Just shut your trap, and maybe he'll let you live.” The door crashed shut.

  The only sound in the room was Gracie swearing, and then she started crying.

  That was all Des needed, and in no mood for her mother's histrionics, she was half tempted to stay hidden under the bed. However, Gracie could help her. No one knew her tavern better than the owner.

  "Psst!” Des hissed at her.

  "Wha..."

  "I'm under your bed!” Pushing aside the coverlet, Des poked her head out.

  Getting to her feet, Gracie stared at her. “Desdemona!"

  "Not so loud!” Pulling herself out from under the bed, Des got to her feet. Seeing the red hand mark on Gracie's cheek, and the slight swelling of her lip, she grimaced. “I see the outlaws got to you."

  Gracie swallowed. “Yes. They slapped me around a bit.” Her gaze darted around the room. “How did you get in?"

  "Through the window.” Walking to the door, Des pressed her ear against it. “How many outlaws downstairs?"

  "Um...” Gracie blinked. “About fifteen or so."

  "Is there a man named Canute down there?"

  "I do believe that's what they called him.” Gracie frowned. “Des, what are you planning?"

  "On going out there and shooting the shit out of him and as many of his cronies as I can.” Des reached for the doorknob. “How many in the hall?"

  Recovering herself, Gracie rushed forward. “Desdemona! Stop!” Even hushed, her voice had the ability to sound like nails on a board.

  Des winced. Facing the outlaws just had to be better than hearing Gracie.

  Placing her hand on the door, Gracie said fiercely, “There's a guard at the head of the stairs, and another at the other end of the corridor. Several more at the other end. You can't get them all."

  "I can get some.” She palmed both lasers. “Most if I'm lucky."

  "Put those away!” Gracie snapped. “Have you no sense?"

  Tempted to tell her mother where any bad genes could have come from, Des resisted. “I'm the law here, Mother. Those are outlaws. What does that tell you?"

  "You always were a smart mouth.” Gracie glared at her. “I can create a diversion."

  "Diversion? You? How?"

  "Don't be so shocked. That bastard slapped me around, and suns knows what he has planned next for me. I'm saving my hide. Yours, too,” Gracie thought to add.

  "I'm so pleased you care, Mother. That touches my heart."

  "I can tell them I have information about you or something."

  "Something? You better come up with something better than that."

  "Leave it to me.” Tossing her head, Gracie straightened her shoulders and grabbed the doorkn
ob.

  "They might shoot you,” Des stated bluntly.

  "They know I'm a lady, Desdemona."

  Personally, Des thought her mother was as far from a lady as a greedy cow could get, but in this instance she kept her mouth shut.

  From the expression on her mother's face, however, Gracie had a pretty good idea what Des's thoughts were, and she glared. “Just be prepared."

  Des looked at her for several long seconds. She couldn't outright lie and say she loved her mother, or even had any affection for her. Gracie had knocked that out of her a long time ago. But still, she was risking her life to help. “Be careful."

  Gracie smiled suddenly, then yanked the door open and stepped outside.

  Quickly Des stepped behind the door and listened. There was a low murmur of voices, then someone shouted. Footsteps rattled on the roof, another landed on the verandah outside.

  "Bloody hell!” Dropping to the floor, Des rolled under the bed again.

  The door crashed open, and Gracie rushed in followed by several men. Unable to see the outlaws, Des listened, her laser in her hand.

  "I'm telling you, I heard her outside, not in here!” Gracie shrieked.

  "Outside where?” one outlaw demanded.

  "Out there! Damn it, out there!” Gracie screeched. “Out the front!” Des saw her backing up to the bed, and she sat down suddenly, obstructing her view. “I'm telling you she's out there! I feel sick..."

  Mentally rolling her eyes, Des looked around, but the coverlet covered all the other sides of the big bed. Thanks to Gracie's movements, she couldn't see a thing.

  "You're sure?” The outlaw snarled.

  "Of course I'm sure!"

  "All right, everyone out! Search the grounds! Now!"

  The door crashed shut, and Gracie let out a sigh of relief. “That was close."

  "Close? Crap, what are you trying to do?” Des started to pull her self out from under the bed, her hands holding the lasers going up to shift the coverlet. “Get me ki—"

  Her words were stopped when the lasers were yanked from her grasp, hard hands wrapped around her wrists and at the same time she was dragged out from under the bed.

  Realizing what was happening, she was too far out to go back under the bed, and too far under to twist and fight.

  A hand knotted in the back of her jacket, another clamped on her other arm, and she was dragged completely out from under the bed.

  Reacting quickly, she went completely limp, catching her captors by surprise.

  "Shit, she's fainted or something!"

  "Canute won't be happy."

  They dropped her arms and Gracie shrieked, “Idiots! Desdemona doesn't faint! She's tricking—"

  Even as her mother's words registered in her brain, Des was acting. Spinning around on the spot, she slammed her foot behind the first outlaw's knees, tipping him off balance. At the same time she grabbed a fistful of the shirt of the outlaw still leaning down and brought him down on her other fist, which she slammed up into his nose.

  Blood sprayed and he dropped like a brick. Unfortunately right onto her. By the time she'd shoved him off and jumped to her feet, one of the hard-eyed outlaws who'd come from the ship dove through the window, and while she wheeled around to face this new threat, Gracie grabbed the laser and held it up.

  "I'll shoot you, Desdemona, I swear! Give up!"

  Ignoring her, ignoring everything but the threat at the window, Des drew the daggers from her boot tops.

  The door slammed open behind her, and she half spun around, balancing on the balls of her feet, the daggers held to either side. The two men who entered through the door were the ones who'd also accompanied Canute.

  "Come on in, boys,” she said evenly, her breath only coming slightly faster. “Join the party."

  "Canute doesn't want her hurt, Zared!” Gracie shrieked.

  "Canute's not very happy with her right now.” Zared's gaze never strayed from Des.

  "Then get her!"

  "Thanks, Mother.” Des kept the men in sight at all times, but when the man at the window started moving out of line of vision, as did the other two, she knew there would be trouble. Especially when two more outlaws came through the window, and another through the door. “Seven men to take me on? Aren't you all feeling a bit ashamed?"

  "Not at all,” Zared replied coolly. “Now!"

  They charged her.

  Using the daggers with deadly intensity, Des managed to keep them at bay, but not for long, not when they surrounded her and came at her at once. She slashed, kicked and fought her way out of the first two tackles, the men getting entangled as there were so many. But realizing it, they changed their tactics.

  One at a time they charged her, but quickly, in succession so that no sooner was she turning to one than another was charging from the other side.

  They hadn't gotten off lightly, either. One had a cut lip, another had a swollen eye. Two were dead. A couple had blood on their clothes.

  Gracie screamed encouragement, alternating between cursing and cheering.

  Des didn't have time to even feel sick at her mother's treachery.

  The outlaw coming from her left narrowly missed having his neck sliced from ear to ear, and another charged from her right. Then three sides charged at once, and another caught her from behind, his arm around her neck.

  She swung around, crashing him into the side and front man, but he didn't let go. A dagger was knocked from her hand, the burn of the laser fire making her involuntarily let go.

  The man on her back swung off and she spun around without enough time to stop Zared charging her.

  He slammed into her, arms going around her waist, and they barreled backward out of the door with such force that they crashed through the rail and fell to the floor below.

  The table crashed beneath their combined weight. Glass splintered, drinks flew, and Des was momentarily stunned, her breath taken away.

  Blinking rapidly, she didn't know how long it was before she regained her full senses, but she started to roll to her feet, got as far as in a crouch, when a laser pressed under her chin, and the holder exerted enough force to make her tilt her head up until she was looking up at the holder of the laser.

  His face wavered, but when she blinked again, he came into focus. A lean man with a dark, brooding face, about forty years old. His eyes were hard, his mouth twisted in a half smile.

  "Desdemona,” he drawled. “Finally, I have the pleasure."

  "All mine,” she rasped, and lunged, making a grab for the laser as she did so.

  The stun hit her from behind, not enough to make her black out, but enough to shock her. Dimly she felt something snap around her wrists, but she couldn't make sense of it. Feeling herself dragged over to something, rough hands hoisting her up, she tried desperately to regain her full senses.

  By the time she did, she felt herself being lifted, her arms stretching above her head, her shoulders taking her full weight, muscles straining.

  Shaking her head, she focused, and gradually Canute's face came into focus again, as did her situation.

  Her boots were swinging off the floor, her cuffed wrists raised high and a knotted rope going around the chain. Looking up, she saw that the rope was being held by several men on the floor above, the rope looped through one of the rails.

  "I didn't know you cared.” Tipping her head forward again, she looked down at Canute.

  Shorter than her by a good foot already, she was above him by many inches more as the men stopped pulling her up.

  His face was level with her breasts, which she inwardly cringed at, especially when he reached out and cupped them under her jacket.

  "So strong,” he murmured. “So incredibly strong, both in body and mind."

  Glancing over his head, Des looked directly at her mother. Gracie was sitting at one of the tables, a smirk on her face.

  "Not so smart-mouthed now, sweetie, are you?” Lifting a glass of wine, she saluted Des mockingly.

  "You neve
r disappoint me, Mother,” Des said. “A bitch from start to finish."

  Fifteen

  Gracie flushed and Canute laughed, the gathered outlaws laughing with him.

  Looking around as much as she could, Des said loudly, “My, my. How many outlaws in here, Canute? A good fifteen? Twenty? And how many outside?” At least if any of the law hears me, they'll have an idea what they're facing in here.

  "Enough to take you on, m'dear,” he replied. “Worried?"

  "Not at all,” she drawled. “I could take you on with one hand behind my back."

  "What about with two hands in the air?” His eyes gleamed.

  "I tell you what, arsehole, you tell me what the hell is going on here, and I'll show you what I can do with two hands in the air,” she replied conversationally.

  His thumbs rubbed against her nipples. “Oh, m'dear. Not even a little bit excited to see me?"

  Coarse amusement sounded around the room.

  Des stared down at him boldly.

  "Not even scared are you, Desdemona?” Canute ran his hands down to her taut stomach, rubbed lightly.

  "I'm feeling nauseous, if that's what you mean,” she replied. “Going to tell me anything, or just bore me to death by mauling me?"

  "She's a gutsy one,” an outlaw remarked.

  "I want her scalp,” another said.

  Quickly, Des glanced over her shoulder, the movement accomplished with difficulty, but she saw him sneering at her. Knew it was him because of the scalps sewn onto his coat.

  "Well, well. If it isn't the little man stalking the settlements, scalping and opening the girls up to show off their spines. Did it make you feel big?"

  "It gave me a hard-on.” He laughed, though his eyes remained cruel. Dead.

  "I'm so pleased for you. Which of your mates here gave you the hand job, or...” She raised one brow, “Did he give you a blowjob?"

  The outlaw flushed when his friends jeered.

  "Come on, arsehole,” she goaded. “You had a friend or two to help you set a pattern, but you blew it, didn't you?"

  "I never blew anything, bitch."

  "Maybe not you, but your friend did.” Abruptly Des turned her head around to look directly down at Canute. “Your little friend stuffed up big time, Canute. They broke the pattern, killed a man."