Free Heart of Steel by Meljean Brook Page B

through him. He braced his hands against the sloping roof and leaned in close. “I knew you spared me. Shall I tell you what I thought as you dangled me over the mob of zombies?”
    â€œReturn the favor and spare me whatever idiot thought it was.”
    â€œNo, not idiotic.” He waited until she looked up from the bracelet and met his eyes. “I thought, Finally, the mysterious and beautiful Captain Corsair is holding me in her arms. And I swore that you would again.”
    Her brows rose. “And what part of that isn’t idiotic?”
    â€œYou’ll see. I have a collection of fine waistcoats and a handsome face.” He stepped back to let her take in the full effect of both, and her smile spread to the edge of a laugh. Perfect. “You’ve already proven susceptible to them, and refrained from killing me at least twice: when you discovered who my father was after I first boarded your airship, and again when you threw me from it. I’m certain that means we’re destined to be together.”
    â€œThat it does, but only until our business concludes—and I still want fifty percent.”
    If Archimedes could, he’d have given it to her. “You’ll only get the standard twenty-five.”
    â€œI prefer your sister’s offer.”
    â€œMine isn’t negotiable.”
    â€œIsn’t it?”
    â€œNo.”
    She regarded him for a long moment before shrugging. “I suppose twenty-five percent is still a goodly sum,” she said. “Can you give me any assurance that I’ll receive it after the auction?”
    â€œDo you trust my word?”
    â€œNo.” Despite her smile, her eyes were hard as polished agates. “I’ll take you to the Ivory Market on my lady.”
    â€œCan you give me any assurance that I’ll reach the market alive?”
    â€œDo you trust my word?”
    He grinned. “No.”
    â€œThen we don’t—”
    â€œI’ll see that you get your share,” he said. “Because if you don’t, I know you’ll find me—and I’m tired of being chased down for money. So I’ll find you instead.”
    â€œYou won’t need to find me. I’ll meet you at the market.”
    Of course she would. He expected to see Lady Corsair riding the tailwind of his hired airship from the moment they flew out of Port Fallow. The Swan ’s captain would probably arrive in Africa with a few new gray hairs, but with Yasmeen as an escort, no doubt it would be the safest route he’d ever flown.
    â€œThen I’ll buy you a drink when I see you there,” he promised before warning her, “I’ll begin courting you then, too.”
    Her laugh was soft and low. With a movement that seemed to exist between a lazy stretch and an acrobatic flip, she swung her legs off the mattress and rose from the bed. Ah, God. Had she any idea how watching her affected him? Graceful, lithe, strong—and deadly. Her every step seemed to contain a threat. Unhurried, she crossed the small room toward the bureau topped with pistols and knives, and despite the bracelet she wore, every moment he expected to feel her foot smashing in his skull, her fingers crushing his throat.
    She only retrieved a silver case from the pile of weapons and slipped a cigarillo between her lips. He reached for the spark lighter before she did, and the captain had no objection when he came close enough to hold the flame to the cigarillo’s tip. She regarded him over his clasped hands. When the tip glowed orange, he stepped back and lit his own.
    The captain looked pointedly at his cigarillo. “You court your sister’s wrath. You’re a brave man.”
    Not that brave. “I don’t smoke them near her. Only with you.”
    â€œWhy is that?”
    â€œThey’re expensive, and although a bulging purse in my pants might appeal to you, it also attracts the wrong sort of