The Shadow Runners by Liz Maverick

Author:Liz Maverick
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Published: 2012-02-22T08:34:26+00:00

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Chapter Fifteen

"Come on, Raidon, you must be good for something… dance with me!"

He grinned from his chair, but didn't get up.

"Come on!"

Raidon glanced over at Deck, who shrugged lackadaisically. The heavy stood up, walked over to Jenny, and then managed to plaster her to his body for the next five minutes in a rip-roaring tango that had Deck's attention as much as it seemed to have hers.

"Raidon, I'm shocked," Jenny teased. "You're not supposed to be so cavalier with the ladies. It's not fitting of a royal bodyguard."

Raidon winked and dipped her, then pulled her close again and tangoed her back a few steps.

"I think he's jealous," Deck heard Jenny say.

Raidon frowned, abruptly missing a step. He twirled her in what was clearly to be a final pirouette and said, "I believe that's everything I know about dancing."

Even so, Deck felt like he was going to explode. So, Jenny was off-limits to him but fair game for his heavy? No, with this business, Raidon was close to overstepping his boundaries. It was… it was…

Deck suddenly realized that he'd given up his right to complain about such things. He almost had to laugh; one had to admit that being a prince had its advantages when one wanted another man to take his paws off a woman. And now all that was gone.

He remembered the earlier argument with Raidon, when he'd pulled rank like a royal and said Jenny would be bunking with him, no further discussion. It nagged at him, how the vestiges of his former life seemed to be seeping back into his actions, his behaviors, his speech. Did he believe in the revolution or not? Did he believe in equality for all… or not? Did he really believe? Was time enough to change his upbringing and make him the man he wanted to be?

Do you believe in the revolution, Deck? Or are you here for revenge? "Of course I do," he muttered aloud. "I believe."

"Is something wrong, sir?" Raidon asked.

Deck managed a half smile. "Just thinking."

Quinn sauntered up to the fire, placed two handkerchiefs on the ground—one for each knee—and knelt down in front of the flat piece of rock Deck had designated as the cooking stone. He pulled out a rusty yet dainty filigree penknife and sliced lacy strips off his brown opiate stick, which he then rolled in thin papers squired from his cigarette case. After refilling the case, he politely offered one to Deck and ignored everybody else.

Deck rubbed one hand over the stubble on his chin. "Lord Quinn, with all due respect, this is my expedition, and therefore I must ask you in the spirit of… brotherhood…"

Jenny rolled her eyes.

"… to respect my rules. I've asked you once already to please smoke that crap downwind of me. Now, stop offering it to me."

Jenny raised an eyebrow.

"Of course," Quinn said with a bow.

A howl pierced the air. Everyone froze.

Quinn paled considerably. "What in God's name was that?"

"It sounded like a dingo," she said. "But they usually travel in packs, so it's not a dingo, per se.

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