by Jory Strong
"Enzo, find!" Jacob said. "Find Mama."
Ridiculous.
But Victoria followed the others out of the kitchen.
The dog trotted straight to the front door. He sniffed but instead of acting like he wanted to go out, darted upstairs and led them to the front parlor, and then to Ella crouched behind the loveseat.
"Good boy!" Jacob said. "Good boy!"
"He is that," Ella said, hugging the dog.
Victoria's skin crawled. Next her sister would be kissing it.
"That was too easy for him," Jacob said. "The stronghold was a lot harder. Maybe we could try it at the marketplace. Ciro said it would help to have some treats to train Enzo with. And Enzo really really likes jerky."
"We'll get some jerky the next time we go to the marketplace."
"Can we go today?"
Seizing the opportunity, Victoria said, "I'd love to look at fabrics."
Jacob danced around. "Please, Mama! We could get Enzo's collar from the leather maker. And the kite."
Victoria tingled all over. She could see Ella wavering and resisted the urge to touch the hidden syringe.
There'd be a chance to grab the boy at the marketplace. A distraction was all it'd take and then she and Hayden—
"Jacob needs to stay here," the guard said.
Victoria easily read Ella's capitulation.
Weakling.
The boy calls you Mama but you're nothing but a servant if you take orders from one of the warlord's men.
Victoria smoothed her hands over her dress rather than ball them into fists. Challenging Ella in front of witnesses would do more harm than good. "I'd still like to go to the marketplace. Just a quick trip, and you could get the collar and jerky."
"Please, Mama."
Ella kissed the top of Jacob's head. "Okay. I'll go get Enzo's collar and the jerky. And the kite if the stall is still open. While I'm doing that, you can get ready for dinner by getting clean."
"A bath is definitely in order," the old witch said. "He smells like a soldier."
The boy grinned as if stinking was an accomplishment.
* * *
The warren marketplace wasn't much different than the one in Borough Y. It teemed with the great unwashed masses, those desperate to get rid of their goods at the end of the day and those desperate to buy at a reduced price.
They stopped at the butcher's stall. Flies swarmed and buzzed, landing on hanging meat, on the fat butcher's stained apron, on her.
Victoria covered her mouth and nose with a handkerchief. "I'm going to look at fabrics. When I'm done, I'll meet you in front of the general store we passed."
She walked away. Ella would do just that, wait for her, to ensure that she made it back to the house.
Suppressing a smile became impossible. She'd now been taken through the maze on two different paths. If they returned the same way they'd just come, and she could reinforce the pattern she'd created, then she'd have two ways out if she needed to escape.
Victoria stopped at the first stall she came to that sold fabrics. The material was crude, like something that would be made into a sack a laborer would use to hold picked vegetables.
She moved on, stopping each time she spotted fabric or handmade dresses.
Her chest grew tighter and tighter with each stop.
Where was Hayden?
Finally she found a strip of red material that would do for the belt. Victoria paid for it, feeling deflated. She'd been so sure Hayden would want to see her after learning she'd witnessed the execution.
Steps from the stall, a man carrying a woven basket slammed into her with enough force to knock her to the ground.
Corn spilled onto her. And seething, she brushed it off as he leaned down, muttered, "You best get the boy quickly. If the prisoner dies before there's a trade, you might not ever get back into the city."
Her gaze flew to his face. "My sister is optimistic he'll survive," she hissed, easily maintaining an angry façade in case they were being observed.
He snatched at the ears of corn. Tossed them into the basket. "Good."
She stood, brushing at her dress as if it was still dirty.
Hayden's underling, his head ducked so it wasn't obvious he was speaking, said, "The man in the straw hat haggling over cantaloupes, the man eating a meat pie near the beer seller, remember them."
He straightened, picked up the basket and strode away.
She made note of the faces, her anger lingering. She didn't appreciate the threat about not being able to return to the city.
Who was he to threaten her? Obviously no one important, or he'd know that Hayden had a special interest in her. And when she succeeded in grabbing the warlord's son, she'd become important to Merati.
* * * * *
Chapter 20
Josiah entered the club with Saul at his side. He glanced at the booth where days earlier he'd told the boy to sit, and Jacob had sat alone, neither of them anticipating how much their lives would change.
The booth now held giggling women siting on the laps of two of his men, the table between them crowded with empty beer mugs. They weren't the only women in the club, there in the hopes of being claimed as the sole property of a single soldier.
He and Saul kept going, toward the right corner. The men there vacated the table and he nodded, acknowledging that they'd surrendered the coveted spot.
Josiah dropped into a seat that allowed him to have his back to the wall and maintain a full view of the club. Saul sat to his right, back also against the wall.
At the bar, DeAngelo had his face planted against a blonde's breasts. He straightened away from her, pulled a bottle of liquor from the shelf and poured two shots.
The blonde's unrestrained breasts bounced as she carried the drinks to their table. She returned to DeAngelo, who resumed his forays beneath her loose shirt, though he respected the whores enough that he'd take the blonde into a private room when he was ready to bang her.
Ciro was throwing stars to an audience of young soldiers. But rather than having their rapt attention, as he usually did, the boys weren't able to stop themselves from ogling the women who'd already lost their shirts or from sneaking looks at Hector, fucking a woman sitting on a table.
Saul lifted the shot glass and tipped it toward Josiah. "It's done."
Josiah touched his glass to Saul's. "It's done."
They threw back the shots of whiskey. A different blonde, wearing a light blue tank so thin that the outline of her nipples was visible, hurried over with two more drinks, hoping to be invited to stay.
Josiah's thoughts went to his bedroom, and he felt Ella's smooth skin as he traced the edge of her bra and told her she didn't have to wear Jax's colors to snag his interest or goad him into claiming what was his.
And now? Did she see him as a monster?
If he reached for her, would she stiffen? Would she lie on their bed with the enthusiasm of a corpse, close her eyes and let him use her body, enduring rather than enjoying?
He downed the second shot. It would take a lot more of them to drown the image of Ella's pale face after he'd done what he'd pledged to do that day he'd watched his father die.
"For a man who has settled an old score, you don't seem happy," Saul said.
"And happiness is an emotion you're familiar with?"
One corner of Saul's mouth kicked up. "I've smiled every time I've delivered justice."
A brunette wearing a sheer, short white blouse and matching thong set another glass on the table in front of Josiah, bringing with her the lush scent of a willing woman.
His cock stirred, animal reaction. Habit. She was pretty, her hair close to the same color as Ella's, but there was no comparison between her and the woman he'd married.
Saul picked up the shot glass left on the table by the blonde in the tank top. Tipped it toward Josiah. "To delivering more of the justice you delivered in front of your new wife."
Picturing Ella's pale face, Josiah touched his glass to Saul's. "You'll have y
our chance to kill when we enter Krish's territory."
"I look forward to it. Jacob will have one less thing to deal with when he's a man."
"If the territory is taken, it's large enough to split. Rapp could be persuaded to agree."
"I'm content to remain underlord. Someone needs to make sure you don't repeat your mistakes."
"Careful, amigo."
"Would you have sent a different doctor away so quickly without earning the full value of the books he was given in payment?"
"He'd done enough. Bad enough to have the sister, another stranger in the house is one too many."
"So it wasn't jealousy that had you charging up the stairs like in the old days?" The days when your brains resided in your dick because of Geneva.
He stared at the man who'd been born to a prostitute, who'd killed for the first time at ten, when a client thought payment for the mother included use of the son.
Saul met his eyes steadily, without challenge.
"What I've claimed belongs to me," Josiah said, hiding the surge of possessiveness that came with the memory of walking in and finding Ella and the doctor holding hands.
You interrupted an apology.
And that's the reason for your guilty blush?
I have nothing to feel guilty about.
Truth? Or lie?
The brunette in the sheer blouse and thong returned to the table, accompanied by a bare-breasted blonde, bringing additional drinks. They set the glasses on the table, turned to leave.
Saul grabbed the brunette's wrist. Used his foot to push the table away. "Take the warlord's mind off his problems."
The woman went immediately to her knees. Her eyes met Josiah's and she eagerly licked her lips.
His cock stirred for a second time. This was his right, as warlord.
He could allow her to pleasure him, demonstrate that he was still his own man, that he hadn't allowed himself to fall prey to his wife.
He could let the brunette suck him off. Could bend her over the table, fuck her and then discard her afterward in favor of banging any of the other women in the room.
They'd all view it as an honor. They'd brag about catching his interest.
He could use every woman in the club, pound into each one of them in an effort to drive away his growing feelings for his wife. No one would think less of him for taking what was available. None of the perritas or his soldiers would question his right to do it and most of his men would do the same if they were warlord.
His mother had never seemed to care that his father went elsewhere. With little effort, he could remember the sting of her palm against his cheek when he was eight, and had cursed his father for spending money in a brothel instead of putting meat on the table.
But Ella was not his mother. And he was not his father.
Word would reach her if he took what these women so readily offered. And ordering his men to silence would weaken him in their eyes. It would reveal dishonor, because if this was his right, then there was no requirement for secrecy.
The brunette's hands hovered above his thighs, waiting for him to second Saul's order. He said, "Leave."
Disappointment filled her eyes. She stood slowly, giving him plenty of time to change his mind.
When he didn't, she found another of his men, knelt in front of that man. And that man didn't stop her hands from going to the front of his jeans, from undoing his fly and guiding his cock to her hungry lips.
"I won't disrespect Ella," he told Saul. "Not when the boy loves her."
"Should I sharpen my knives in anticipation of the day we will fight again because of a treacherous woman?"
"She's not Geneva."
"I'll make sure those aren't your famous last words."
Josiah stood, eyes meeting Saul's, both of them remembering the slide of a blade through skin and muscle, the flow of hot blood.
* * *
Enzo plopped down next to Jacob with a gusty sigh and immediately closed his eyes. Ella smiled. "He's had a busy day, so have you."
She sat on the carpet, legs crossed, towels spread in front of her and piled with the books she'd brought from the stronghold.
"Can I help?" he asked.
"Yes. You can use the duster."
He picked it up. "Now what?"
She pointed to the stack of books. "One at a time, you'll gently dust them off."
She lifted the first book and set it down in front of him. He brushed the feathers over the cover.
She stood the book up so he got the spine then lay it on its front so he could brush the dust off the back.
"Now do the page edges." She stood the book again and he got the top, the widest edge, the bottom.
"I can do this by myself, Mama."
She placed the book they'd just dusted on the towel in front of her. "We'll work as a team. There's always a little dust left, so after you've done your part, I'll wipe the books with a cloth before I check the inside pages for damage."
She did just that, smoothing a soft cotton cloth over the cover then opening the book.
Jacob leaned over to look. "It's a book about cutting people open!"
"It's a book for a doctor."
"You could use it."
"No, my skill is with medicines and potions. But this is still a valuable book. It could be sold or traded."
"There might be even more valuable books at the stronghold! It's like a giant treasure hunt!"
She laughed. "It is like a treasure hunt."
Makayla entered the family room, a red belt accented with fine black stitching transforming her outfit into something elegant. She sat on the floor at Jacob's other side, picked up the next book on the stack.
Jacob grabbed the one that had been beneath it. "Look! Trains!"
He started to open it. Ella said, "Dust first and then make sure your hands are clean."
He dusted the book. Wiped his hands on a cloth.
So far the books she'd taken from the stronghold were in amazing shape, probably because they'd been stacked and pressed tightly together, then left undisturbed in a room without moisture or paper-destroying bugs.
He opened the book, flipped through it quickly. There was very little writing but every page had a glossy picture of a train.
When he got to the end of the book, he returned to the first page. It had a picture of a red engine with the number 357 written on the front in gold letters.
"This is what used to be called a tabletop book," Ella said. "In the days before the Final War almost everyone had books. And books like this one were mostly thought of as decorations. Though sometimes, if someone was waiting, they might look at the pictures for something to do."
Jacob turned the page. The next picture was of a bright yellow engine pulling cars loaded with coal. "How do you know that?"
"There's a library in the borough where I grew up."
"What's a library?"
"It's a place where anyone can go and look at the books."
"Can they take them home with them?"
"Not in Borough Y. It might be different where the elite live in New San Jose. But once upon a time, before the Final War, people could borrow books from libraries."
"Do we have a library?"
"I don't know." She was careful to keep the hurt and anger from her voice when she looked at Josiah's sister and said, "Makayla might know."
"There's no library."
Ella felt a buzz of excitement. There were so many books in the stronghold, rooms of them. They wouldn't all be valuable to collectors in New San Jose. And why should the city benefit when they could be used to make the warren a better place. "Maybe we could open a library here," she told Jacob.
He looked at her, dark eyes shining with excitement. "Kids my age could come, and you could read to us."
She smiled. "And maybe some of the time, I could teach them how to read. Or teach their family members, if they don't already know how."
Makayla turned the book she'd picked up over in her hands. "I'
ll help with the library."
A huge smile broke out on Jacob's face, reminding Ella of how happy she'd felt when Makayla had suggested a trip to the marketplace. And how foolish she'd been, in believing it was an overture of friendship.
"I think we need another cotton cloth," she told Jacob. "Can you go get one?"
He jumped up and left the room. She stiffened her spine and squared her shoulders. Meeting Makayla's eyes, she said, "I would like for us to get along. But I won't let you use Jacob and me again the way you did earlier."
Makayla flushed, glanced down then up. "I'm sorry."
Ella nodded, wanting to believe. Hoping, and wondering if she was once again being foolish.
Jacob returned. Makayla asked, "How can I help?"
"Once Jacob has dusted the books, you can wipe the covers and then begin inspecting the pages for damage."
Reluctantly Jacob closed the train book. "Mama, do you think I could keep this book instead of turning it over to the library?"
She rubbed her cheek against his hair. "I think so. There are plenty of books. And before there's a library, we need to talk to the warlord."
Uncertainty appeared in his eyes. "You mean Papa."
"Yes, that's exactly who I mean." She smiled to ease his uncertainty, though ache spasmed through her chest.
Will you be faithful to me?
Silence had been his answer.
Was he at his club now, with the perritas?
The ache in her chest deepened with memories of walking in on Griffin and Gina. That betrayal was nothing compared to what it would feel like to learn that Josiah had been with another woman.
Jacob picked up the duster and got to work. Blaine came in and dropped onto the sofa.
Victoria entered a short while later. She moved a chair and sat close to Ella, holding out her hands. "They hurt from sewing, rub them for me."
"No," Ella said, reminded of the night they'd waited in the front room for their father to return after the pigeon had arrived in the marketplace.
Victoria's lips tightened. Her eyes narrowed. She made a show of looking at the books then at Jacob before leaning forward so her mouth was at Ella's ear. "Making yourself useful? Afraid that when he comes home, he'll compare the two of us?"
