A Tale of Two Airships (Take to the Skies Book 2) Read Free Page B

figures. Both of which made me take the bait, but the second Geoff strapped gypsy to the statement, the job reeked worse than Edwin’s cooking.
    Mordecai and Isabella strolled along in the lead while I lingered behind, keeping an eye to the shadowed alleys and my crew. Jack didn’t seem to know what to do with himself, so he instead overdid it by scowling at everyone and jumping at the slightest sound. Overall, he was rather precious.
    I wanted to pull my hair out regardless. Why would the gypsies be crawling out of the woodwork to claim Isabella now? It didn’t make any sense. She’d been with us for years, and they’d never come calling, which made the letter they sent even shadier. I grew up on the cynical side of the streets, and after placing my trust in the wrong people over more recent years, the little bit left had chipped from slate to gravel.
    Shouts echoed through these streets, even at this time of day, and ladies wearing bonnets peddled their baked goods in one stand while a chap tried to push his jewelry on any passersby despite the storefronts open right behind them. Dappled sunlight cast gorgeous rays across the mud-splattered cobblestones and highlighted the broken bottles and crumpled papers littering the grounds. This section of town most folks walked through, and in the distance I caught the translucent barrier of a sub-bus depot. In fancier necks of the wood, we’d be dodging automated carriages and whatnot.
    The back of my neck prickled as we passed the nearby alley doused in shadow from the lofty buildings side by side. A shift in the darkness drew my attention before the glint of a blade ever did.
    Matilda was out and cocked less than a heartbeat later. The tip of the blade made it close, but I squeezed the man’s wrist hard. Letting out a low grunt, he dropped it, and the metal clattered to the ground.
    “Sorry peaches, I’m no slouch.” I pressed the end of my pistol to the man’s temple.
    Though two more men hurtled out of the alleyway, I didn’t blink an eye. Mordecai and Isabella crouched in wait, hands already moving to their weapons. Knives flew from Isabella’s adept hands, pinning the one guy to the wall. Before he wriggled away, she’d already marched straight up to him and slammed her forearm against his throat. Smart girl, because with my increasing levels of paranoia, I wanted to have a little chat with these men. Mordecai didn’t bother following similar procedure, and instead, where his blade sliced, blood followed.
    “Come on,” I exclaimed, my gaze never leaving the pissed off thug I pointed Matilda at. “This is why we don’t have nice things. Bloodstains everywhere we go. I’ve ruined at least a dozen shirts in the past year and given up wearing cream.”
    “Surely it couldn’t have anything to do with your penchant for making messes,” Mordecai responded, his tone dry as he wiped his blade on the jacket of the dead man. A couple gazes flickered our way but no screams of horror. Still, handling dead bodies midday never boded well for anyone—we needed to at least move this to the shade of the alley. Jack leapt in to the rescue, grabbing the hands of the fresh corpse and tugging him towards the cramped corridor.
    “So, I find this a difficult coincidence that the three of you would be waiting for our lil ol’ well-armed group.” Isabella’s eyes narrowed even though her tone never shifted from too-calm. “Either you’re spectacular idiots for a street gang, or you were waiting for us the entire time.”
    Between Jack and Mordecai, they hid the dead man before I blinked, and I tugged on the wrist of my captive, edging him towards his friend’s resting place in the alley that had become our business office. No one in their right mind would come investigate here, and from the looks of it, the authorities didn’t tromp through often. Better for us anyway.
    “Now, a young fellow like yourself wouldn’t want to end up same way as your partner there,