Winterblaze - By Kristen Callihan Page 0,22

nearly lost his life there.

Don’t think of it. But his vision blurred as his mouth filled with saliva. Hands shaking, Winston pressed himself against the wall of the ship, and cold iron bore into his shoulder blades as he fought for control. The squeak of a door hinge had him freezing. From his vantage point, he could see nothing more than the crate in front of him and darkness beyond. He cannot be destroyed. What if Poppy had been telling the truth? And here Winston was, armed with only a gun. Hell. He ought to go back. But, if he stayed and fought, it could end here. Winston swallowed hard. He had to try.

Bugger, but he couldn’t hear a thing over the roar of the blasted engines. His breath and heartbeat sounded overloud in his ears, an irritant that could get him killed. And something was coming. He could feel it by the dip in his guts.

Focusing on a spot before him, Winston let every muscle relax, going still and quiet. Exhale. Inhale. Softly. The pumping of his blood slowed too. And with this came an elevation of his senses. It was a trick he’d learned in his training days from his grizzled old partner, Nelson, when Win had come too close to getting his head knocked off by a suspect. He’d forgotten it in his recent fears. No more. Win exhaled again and concentrated on the air about him and the sounds of the engines thrumming, a steady beat that—

There! The scuff of a shoe from the left had him adjusting his grip on his pistol. Sweat trickled along his neck, tickling him. He stared at the edge of the crate until the wood grain blurred and the shadowed passage came into sharp focus. Another scrape, the shuffling of fabric. The bastard was coming closer.

Win’s heartbeat thumped against the side of his throat. His thighs quivered, and his arms burned, aching with the need to move. Steady. And then he heard it, the lightest intake of breath.

With a burst of strength and speed, Winston whipped around the corner, slammed into the body standing there, and aimed for the head. His finger was already pressing down on the trigger when a flash of shining red hair and the scent of lemons stayed his hand. A second later, he registered the sharp point of a knife digging into the underside of his jaw. For a moment, he could only stare. Bulging purple glass lenses stared back at him, giving the impression of coming nose to nose with a mechanical owl. But the delicate slope of her nose and the sharp angle of her jaw was pure Poppy.

Another moment more and he became aware of the fact that his gun was pressed hard against her temple.

“Shit!” He lurched away as if burned. “What in the bloody hell?”

Poppy wrenched the enormous brass goggles from her eyes and glared. “What are you doing here?”

Her smooth cheeks were flushed, and her red hair straggled from beneath the leather straps of the goggles, but she appeared collected and cool. Not so for him.

“What am I—” He scrubbed a damp hand over his face. “Infernal woman, you nearly gave me an apoplexy. They ought to count you among the ten plagues of Egypt!”

Her mouth puckered. Not from irritation, he realized, but from repressing a laugh. Obstinate, crazy…

“Oh, I’m much more effective than a plague. Well, more accurate at any rate.”

“I almost blew your head off!”

With a deft twirl of her fingers, she tucked her knife back into the sheath strapped around her hips. “And I almost filleted you. Had I not such fine reflexes—” He snorted, and she spoke louder, “I’d be a widow right now.”

“We’ll have to thank God for small mercies.” He grasped her elbow and towed her behind the crate. His voice lowered. “Why are you here?”

“There’s a dead man up on deck. He’s causing quite a commotion.”

“Yes, I know. Talent and I almost caught the bastard who did it in the act. It was a demon. We followed him down here.”

Damn it all, he’d almost killed her, and she talked as though they were at tea. Her sharp eyes took in their surroundings. “Where is Talent now?”

“Ferreting the demon out from the other end of the ship. Hopefully he won’t run afoul of Miss Chase and nearly kill her as well.”

“She’s up inspecting the body, so that is doubtful.” Poppy kept her profile to him. “I think he got away.” Her gaze returned

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