"Impossible."

"Possible. Surprised you'd consort with such a b.a.s.t.a.r.d." Dunkirk studied Amelia with an intensity that made Tucker want to rip off the man's head. "Come with me willingly, la.s.s, and I'll spare ya."

The last thing Tuck wanted was for Dunkirk to take Amelia, but at least she'd be alive. No guarantee the rescue he'd initiated with StarMan would come in time. Rather than risk her life, and trusting, believing she'd somehow take care of herself, Tuck nudged her.

"I'm thinking about it," she said through clenched teeth.

She was? He hadn't expected that. He shot her a look.

She glared back.

"What's this?" Dunkirk asked with a grin. "Trouble in paradise?"

"Stuff it, Dunkirk," Amelia snapped.

The pirate laughed. "On second thought, not sure I have the time to tame ya, la.s.s."

"As if you could," she groused.

Still laughing, Dunkirk stood and pa.s.sed the precious artifact to his second in command. "I've secured the two of ya a discreet, though not fully safe distance from that cave, which is rigged to blow in"-he checked his pocket watch-"ten minutes. Giving you a fifty-fifty chance of survival, Gentry. Not near what you gave me and my crew. Thought about blowing the Maverick sky-high, but decided I'd rather own her. I'll attend to that as soon as I collect on the artifact."

"I don't know what your employer is offering you," Amelia said, "but that ornithopter is potentially worth half a million pounds. Maybe more."

"Not helping," Tuck said.

"Do you not read the newspapers?" she plowed on. "Are you unaware of the Triple R Tourney and the jubilee prize?"

"I'm aware," Dunkirk said, sobering. "I'm also a wanted man. Stroll into London in pursuit of that prize and I'll lose my head."

"Literally," Tuck said.

Amelia gave his boot an annoyed kick. She looked back to Dunkirk. "I'm not wanted. Let us go and let me deliver the invention. Whatever I win, I'll split with you. Fifty-fifty."

"Ya think to bargain with me, la.s.s? Again?"

"Twenty-five-seventy-five. We can live with twenty-five percent."

"No, we can't," Tuck said.

She cast him a scathing look. "Yes, we can."

Dunkirk looked at Tuck with something akin to G.o.dd.a.m.ned pity. "Oh, this is rich."

Tuck's senses flared when the pirate signaled his three cohorts back to the Flying Shark. Not that he could see the d.a.m.ned airship, given the dense fog. As long he had that weather-meddling Freak with him, Colin Dunkirk was fairly invincible.

"Ten-ninety," Amelia said, obstinate to the end.

"Ya make life interesting, Amelia Darcy." Dunkirk adjusted the clockwork mechanism. "Ten minutes." Then he triggered a toggle and disappeared into the mist.

Amelia squirmed against the ropes and cursed. "I despise that man."

"Yet you'd strike a deal with him?" Tuck asked while working the rope around his constrained wrists.

"I was trying to stall for time. Bargaining seemed smarter than stonewalling."

"Men like Dunkirk don't bargain. Thought you'd learned your lesson on that score."

"Is this really the time to lecture my methods?" she asked, sounding wounded and mad. "I was trying to save our skins."

Tuck's pride kicked. "Don't you trust me to do that?"

"Of course, but I...Oh! How I ever fell in love with you...I must be crazy, because you, sir, are an insufferable sod."

Tuck stilled. "What did you say?"

"I called you an insufferable sod, you infuriating b.a.s.t.a.r.d!"

"Before that." His heart pounded, overshadowing the eye-crossing pain in his shoulder. "You love me."

She froze. "No, I don't."

"You said you did."

"No, I didn't. I said...I said I fell in love with you, which is not the same thing."

"Exactly the same," he said, feeling light-headed.

"We're going to die and you're arguing semantics?"

"We're not going to die, although we might sustain serious injuries, depending on timing. We need to free ourselves from this tree."

"These ropes aren't budging, and I'm fairly certain the tree isn't going anywhere. Have a trick up your sleeve, Sky Cowboy?"

"No. But I've got a jackknife in my pocket. See if you can reach it." His vision blurred. "Dammit." He banged the back of his head against the trunk of the tree, fighting a wave of dizziness.

"What's wrong?" she asked while fidgeting and exploring his pocket.

"Woozy."

"You've lost a lot of blood. Don't pa.s.s out on me, Tucker Gentry. I don't want to die alone."

"Not gonna die. Too much to live for."

"Got it," she said. "If I can just angle...Don't move."

"No problem." He licked chapped lips and banged his head again. Stay alert. Stay focused. "Who'd you consort with before you consorted with me?"

"What?"

"Dunkirk said-"

"Oh, that. I don't know whom he could have meant. I've never consorted. Although there was Phin."

"Phin?"

"Phineas Bourdain," Amelia blurted, red-faced. "It was nothing. Just a kiss."

Jealousy cut through the haze of pain. "Does this Bourdain have a lot of money?"

"Not really. Besides, he's a good friend of Jules's. Fiercely loyal." She continued to saw at the ropes. Slowly. Awkwardly.

Tuck glanced at the timer, then at the sky. The fog had lifted. No sign of the Flying Shark, but no sign of the Maverick either. He'd signaled StarMan via his telecommunicator at the same time he'd been shutting the door of the secret chamber. He'd hoped by now...unless the communication had failed. "Pa.s.s me the knife."

"You're too weak-"

"Dammit, woman."

"Fine." She shifted and managed to pa.s.s off the blade. "How much time do you think we have left?"

His heart broke at the fret in her tone. Was she thinking about the explosion that had taken her pa? "All the time in the world, Flygirl."

"Before the cave blows, I mean."

He worked the knife over the ropes enslaving Amelia. "Maybe five minutes." What if there's no tomorrow? Christ.

She fell silent for a second, as if contemplating her most dire concern. "The ornithopter," she said. "I want you to know I was trying to think of a way that it could benefit both of our causes. I thought we..."

"We?" Heart full, Tuck smiled. "Just so you know, my mind was travelin' that same road, honey."

"You are indeed, as I'd first believed, a n.o.ble man, Mr. Gentry," she said with a catch in her voice. "Had you a specific plan in mind?"

"I was going to make you a substantial monetary offer, plus a promise to look after you and your ma in exchange for the invention. With your brothers in the race, your family still has an almighty shot at glory. That ornithopter, magnificent though it is, stands a slim chance of winning the jubilee prize. On the other hand, Judge t.i.tan collects rare antiquities. Even though Ida stole his priceless collection of miniature paintings, he blames me. He's a vengeful man, but he's also greedy and obsessive."

"You honestly think he'd clear your name in return for a da Vinci model."

"It was worth a shot."

"You love your sister very much."

"As you love your brothers."

Her voice grew contrite. "I suppose we could have indeed struck a compromise."

"That was my plan. Part of it, anyway." He felt one rope give way. With his hands tied behind his back and his senses fuzzy, the effort was tricky. He sure as h.e.l.l didn't want to cut Amelia. He glanced at the timer, then at the sky again. f.u.c.k.

"Tucker, I-"

"Hold still." His ears buzzed as he cut through another rope. "Try it now. Work your wrists, darlin'. Hurry." The buzz intensified to a roar.

"Free! I'm free!" She scrambled to her knees. "Give me the knife."

"Run."

"Give me the b.l.o.o.d.y knife, Tucker!"

Just then Doc Blue appeared in front of him, as if he'd fallen directly from the sky. Then Tuck smelled the rocket fuel, felt the heat. Pogo Pack. "Maverick?"

"ALE."

That didn't make sense.

"Would've been here sooner," he said. "Inclement weather."

"Cave's rigged to blow!" Amelia screamed as two air constables touched down. She sliced through one rope. "Help me!"

"Get her out of here, Doc."

"But-"

"That's an order."

Doc s.n.a.t.c.hed Amelia away as the air constables moved in. He heard her scream. Heard a roar. An earsplitting explosion.

Then silence.

CHAPTER 33.

SOMEWHERE OVER CORSICA.

Bingham adjusted his magnifying specs and tempered his disappointment as he inspected the compact, though intricate model of a da Vinci ornithopter for the third time. He had to be sure. Unfortunately, he was. "This isn't it."

Dunkirk, who'd been insolently lounging in the most comfortable chair in Mars-a-tron's gondola, leaned forward with a sneer. "It's what she came oot of that cave with, and she was d.a.m.ned well averse to letting it go. I searched the cave for anything else. Empty. Ya told me to steal whatever Amelia Darcy was after, yeah? This is it. A da Vinci ornithopter. An invention of historical significance."

"But it is not significant to me."

"What the f.o.o.k does that mean?"

Bingham straightened and slid the specialized specs to his forehead. "I don't want it." It did not apply to time travel. It was not even a full-scale working ornithopter. A prized artifact for a museum or a private collector, but nothing but a disappointment to him. "It will not advance my cause."

"Could be worth half a million."