Soon, lead rained from above as his soldiers sprang their trap. Sticks of dynamite added to the mayhem until the entire enemy patrol was wiped out. Unfortunately, there was no time to investigate their adversaries or loot any of their equipment. More rumbling engines and stampeding hoofbeats closed in. Rallying his troops, Colt ordered them to scatter and meet at dusk at a familiar, abandoned oil field a few kilometers to the north.
Considering the strike a success, Colt imagined how they would follow the massive army at a distance, launch guerrilla strikes against them, or race ahead to take out bridges—anything to slow their progress.
I hope Jesse Flint made it out, he thought as his horse worked up a lather cantering across the packed sand. He’d counted at least three balloons and two airships the young man had dropped.If he makes it, I’ll pin the medal on him myself.
Chapter forty-four
Arbiter
Bear River Junction, Utah, the Pacifica Confederation, the next morning
“Do that again,” Tamsin Redfern said with a seductive grin, her dark brown eyes taunting her bed partner.
“What? This?” Saylor’s teasing fingers sent ripples of pleasure through Tamsin.
The curly-haired blonde’s blue eyes melted Tamsin’s resistance. Not that she had put up much. “Oh, God, yes,” she moaned. Cupping a hand behind Saylor’s neck, she pulled her down and ravaged her mouth. Then she rolled, claiming the high ground, still pulsing with her partner. Tamsin’s long, black hair cascaded over her shoulder, splashing onto Saylor’s bare breasts. They were perfect.
“Then you’re really going to like this.” Saylor’s tongue slid down Tamsin’s throat, between her breasts, glazing over her belly, slow and deliberate, igniting anticipation. Tamsin gasped for air, arched her back.
A loud knock hit on the front door. “Salt and ruin!” Tamsin cursed. “Not now.”
“Let it drift,” Saylor bade and locked her hands around her waist. The knock sounded again, louder.
“Break me,” Tamsin muttered, pulling free of her. “I have to see who it is.” She rolled out of bed and threw on a robe over her rich brown skin, still damp with sweat.
“You don’thave to,” Saylor snapped in frustration, yanking the sheet over herself.
Tamsin tied the robe sash and left the bedroom. “I’m coming!” she called. “Be right back,” she promised Saylor.
“Sure, you will,” her girlfriend pouted. Being interrupted was no fun for Tamsin either, but, if it weren’t important, no one would be pounding on her door at dawn.
A striped cat missing an eye fell into step, trotting beside her through the house like a personal bodyguard, ears perked, tail jutting up like a flagpole. Her house was like the rest of Bear River Junction—built to endure. It stood low and solid against the wind, its concrete walls holding the day’s warmth, narrow windows giving little away.
Inside, an eclectic mix of artwork reflected Tamsin’s East Asian and African descent—a painted paper fan, a watercolor of a jazz saxophone player, a meticulously kept bonsai tree, and an Afrofuturism painting of a Black, blindfolded Lady Justice holding the scales, with planets and moons spinning behind her. She inherited her mother’s hair and her father’s height. Everything else fell somewhere between.
The cat rubbed her legs as she opened the door a crack and peeked out. “Yes?”
“Ms. Tamsin Redfern?” A lad in a messenger’s uniform three sizes too big, peered at her through thick, round glasses. He held a manila envelope bearing the familiar government seal of three jagged mountain peaks and the mottoTogether Unbroken.
“Yes, that’s me.” Tamsin smoothed her hair behind an ear lined with tiny hoops and studs.
“Special delivery for you from Chairman Redfern’s office.” He passed her the letter, wiped his nose, and rocked from foot to foot.
“Sorry,” she said with a sheepish grin. “I have nothing to tip you. Not up yet. Not dressed. If you come back later …”
His cheeks reddened, and his gaze dropped to his shoes as he stuffed his hands into his pockets. The early air was chilly against Tamsin’s moist skin. “That’s OK. I’d better run. Have a good day, ma’am.”
Tamsin closed the door, opening the envelope as she and the lanky, one-eyed cat padded back to the bedroom.
“I see that seal,” Saylor grumbled. She had gotten dressed and was putting on her shoes as she scowled at Tamsin from across the cozy bedroom. Musk still hung in the air, a reminder of the moment cut short.
Tamsin glanced over the official orders from the chairman of the Pacific Council, the head of Pacifica’s confederate government, her father. “Sorry, babe. Duty calls, and I have to go.”
“Of course you do.” Saylor yanked her shoelaces tight. “It seems you can mediate everyone’s problems except your own.”
“That’s not fair,” Tamsin said. “My job—”
“Is the only love in your life.” Saylor shot off the side of the bed, snatched her jacket from the trunk. “Where to this time? Some bigwigs arguing over fishing rights? Are Washington and Idaho squabbling again? Or does Daddy need you to save one of the governor’s marriages?”