ORION’S BELT: A DARK CYBORG ROMANCE Read online

  “You got a last name?”

  I stare at him, wondering how to answer that, if I answer it at all. He’s got eyes that glint like the sun in the blue sky, set deep beneath a heavy brow. His hair is dark and shaggy around his ears, and he has dark stubble around a hard jaw. He looks like every other criminal in the Patch rolled up into one big, broad-shouldered, narrow-hipped bastard.

  I should be grateful to him. I am grateful to him. He saved my life. I owe him and his men everything that happens to me between now and the grave. But I reckon they’ll be taking full advantage of that fact if I don’t get the hell out of here soon. There are stories of what happens to women who join up with outlaws, and none of them are good. They like to share, do rough men. They’ll pass a girl around like a bottle of whiskey, using her until she’s drained.

  “Mighta had one once, but I lost it a while back,” I say with an easy grin.

  He doesn’t smile back. His expression is hard as nails. This is an interrogation and I don’t like it.

  “You tell me who put you on the tracks.”

  “Ain’t saying.”

  Now I’m off the tracks, he don’t need to know who put me there. It’s better he doesn’t. I’m doing him a favor, even if he doesn’t realize it.

  He takes a step closer to me, his shadow blocking out the sun. When he narrows his eyes I feel a bolt zip right through my nethers. Didn’t expect to be able to get those feelings this soon after everything I’ve been through, but my body has always had a mind of its own. Sometimes I feel like I’m just on a ride in a person-shaped vehicle, terrible things happening to me on all sides all the time and me having to do my best to keep myself alive. It ain’t fair, but that’s life.

  “I reckon you’ll say,” he growls.

  “Listen, mister, I wasn’t scared when those bastards tied me down to die, and I surely ain’t scared now.”

  “You’ll tell me, because I need to know what trouble I just got into by setting you loose on the world again.”

  “You worried about trouble, mister?”

  “I’m surely worried about you, Miss Josie,” he rumbles. I could swoon, if I were the swooning type, just hearing my name on his lips.

  “Don’t worry about me, just accept my thanks, and maybe if you’re still feeling generous, drop me in town next time you go. Or I’ll see myself off.”

  “I don’t think so,” he says. “Them fellas with the guns will be coming after you to finish the job any minute I reckon. You’d better stay with us in the meantime until we sort out what’s goin’ on here.”

  He’s not listening. Men usually don’t. Something about being a girl means that no male ever seems to think I have a brain in my head. They talk to me just like this feller does, as if I don’t have any right to make my own choices, or as if I don’t know what I want.

  The rest of his posse have headed out to the camp fire and are sitting around with liquor. I don’t see any other womenfolk in this camp and that doesn’t bode well for me. Men have lustful natures, and they get real good at sharing when there’s only one woman around. I’m not keen on being spread this thin. I got to get out of here, and quick, before the drink gets in their blood and they decide collectively that they’re going to take what’s owed to them for my rescue.

  The one who rescued me turns and starts talking to another man, so I turn and start walking away. I figure I’m free now and I’d better leave to make sure I stay that way. Men have a habit of rescuing women only to turn them into prisoners all over again.

  I’m only a few steps away when a big hand comes down on my collar, yanking me backwards without warning.

  “Now where do you think you’re running off to?”

  “I ain’t staying here, mister. I ain’t entertaining all you men, not even if you did save my life.”

  “Entertain?” It takes him a second to work out what I’m referring to. When he does, his lips thin and he presses them real hard together, talking through gritted teeth like he’s a ventriloquist. “You ain’t here to entertain anyone, girl. You’re here for your own safety. Under my protection.”

  “And who are you?”

  “Name’s Orion Steelbane,” he says.

  “O.. Orion…?” No way am I with Orion Steelbane.

  Orion Steelbane is a legend. He is the most wanted man on the planet. The stories about Orion are legion, and every one of them is bloodier and more daring than the one before it. My jaw is dropped, but I don’t know if I believe him.

  “You can’t be Orion. He has a metal…”

  I trail off when he yanks the glove off his right hand, displaying the metal and gears of a mechanical limb.

  “Well, hell,” I curse to myself. “You’re really him.”

  “I am,” he agrees.

  “I can’t believe I’m meeting you. I can’t believe you saved me.” I’m trying not to gush, but it’s hard. He’s so famous that some of the traveling players who go from town to town putting on plays have performed stories from his life. I’ve seen them. The guy playing Orion in the play had nothing on this real version though.

  “Believe it,” he rumbles. “But don't believe everything you’ve heard about me.” He winks and I feel my heart flutter. He’s so handsome. Dashing, even. I don’t know how this works, because I thought he was attractive already, but knowing who he really is immediately kicks my body’s response up another level. I can feel myself blushing under his gaze.

  “Thanks for saving me, Mr. Steelbane.”

  “Don’t mention it. Go ahead and get yourself situated in my tent. It’s the one with the black flag hanging next to the opening.”

  It’s the biggest tent in the camp too, with the most comfortable looking bed. I already knew he was the leader of this gang, but the tent confirms his status. I guess I really am under his protection. That might mean the rest of them leave me alone, but what about him? I used to believe in good men. Now I know there’s no such thing. There’s just men who haven’t tried to penetrate me yet. But maybe that wouldn’t be the worst thing if it was Orion.

  He swats me toward the tent, his big hand catching the seat of my skirt, making me skip a step before turning around and glaring at him. He better not be getting handsy with me already, I think to myself, my prideful temper flaring instantly.

  “I’ll cut you if you touch me again, mister.”

  “You’ll do nothing of the sort, girl.”

  “I warned you,” I say. “You put a finger on me without my say so, and I’ll cut you up so bad you won’t know yourself.”

  “Quit threatening me, girl. I don't have any ill-intention toward you. I’m planning on keeping you safe.”

  “Sure y’are” I say, skeptical. “I know about men. I know they all want one thing.”

  “Girlie, if I wanted that one thing, I wouldn’t be getting it from a scrap I just pulled off the tracks,” he drawls, reaching out and tapping my nose with a rough forefinger.

  Now I’m insulted, but I can’t say so, or else I’ll sound like I was just being a flirt.

  “You criminals are all the same, aren’t you. Guess you only take your pleasures from the saloon girls in their fine dresses that go up all the way.”

  “Don’t you worry where I get my pleasure,” he snorts. “Get in my tent.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I said so,” he says, repeating that swat. It lands hard against my ass, making my butt and my pride sting at the same time.

  “That’s it. I’m gonna cut you.”

  I’ve gone mad, threatening Orion Steelbane like this, but truth is, I’m scared as hell. If he does try anything with me, I already know I won’t be able to take it. I’ve had too much rough handling recently to be able to consider countenancing physical connection with any man.

  Orion

  She’s feisty. I’m guessin’ she’s had to be. But the reason I want her in my tent is simple. She’s not wrong about the male gazes she’s getting from some of the others. I leave a girl out in the open, others
are liable to start thinking she’s fair game. Especially given her dress is damn near about to fall off her thanks to all the rough handling.

  I follow her into the tent and pull out some clothes that were left behind by a young man who used to ride with us. He never got over 5’6, and he was slim as a whistle, so I reckon they’ll fit her even if they're not to her liking.

  “Change into these,” I say, expecting an argument. “Yer dress got caught on the railway tracks, and you don’t want to be walking around with your bits and pieces hanging out.”

  “Thank you,” she says.

  Huh. How about that. No fight. I turn around and let her get changed. I hear rustling, and know that she must be stripping herself down. Can’t say as I’m not tempted to look, but though I’m no gentleman, I am a man of my word. She's under my protection. I ain’t go to violate her.

  “Alright. I’m done.”

  When I turn around, she’s decent, wearing britches and a shirt which fits her in the waist, but not quite in the chest. She’s had to leave the top couple of buttons open and the ones below are strained in a way that’d be indecent if this were a Sunday School, but it ain’t.

  “Just need this,” I say, pulling a hat from the same place in the trunk. It’s black, wide brimmed, and when I put it on her head it immediately sinks down over her eyes. She has to push it back up high to look at me with those dark eyes which hold far too many secrets for a woman her age.

  I want to get the story of how she came to be tied to the tracks out of her. That’s not usually something done to a woman, let alone a young and pretty one. That’s the sort of fate reserved for a man who has done real wrong. I’m assuming it has something to do with a lover.

  “So, what happened?” I ask.

  “What do you mean, what happened?”

  “I mean, how come I just had to cut you off the tracks?”

  “I was tied there, and a train was fixing to hit me.”

  I snort. She’s got criminal DNA in her, of that much I’m absolutely certain. She evades the truth like it’s coming for her with a noose. It might very well be. There’s more than a few of us in this camp who're running from the lawman’s rope.

  “It would be good for me to know, girl. Can’t keep you safe from varmints with rifles if we don’t know who they are.”

  “Not your job to keep me safe,” she says, turning her face away from me. She’s cute. She’s got dark locks that I reckon would go into curls judging by the way it is escaping her braid in a riot, and deep brown eyes. Her skin is tanned by the sun, marked with freckles dusting her nose and cheeks.

  “How old are you?”

  “Old ‘nuff.”

  “Old ‘nuff for what?”

  She gives me a cutting look, thinking I’m suggesting something lewd. Matter of fact, I’m not. Aside from natural male curiosity, I ain’t interested in bedding her. She’s too scrawny, too scrappy, too busy lying and giving me sass, and frankly, I’m not sure she’s of age, though she could be. I won't be laying a finger on her, and neither will anyone else.

  “I know where I’m taking you, in that case.”

  “Where’s that?”

  “I know a lady who runs an orphanage. She’s about three days ride from here, outskirts of Buttercup. You can stay with her.”

  “I’m too old for an orphanage, mister,” she laughs. “Too old by a long way.”

  “Is that right.” I’m skeptical.

  “I’ve seen more than twenty new years,” she says.

  “Tell me you’ve seen forty, and I’d have the same chance of believing you.”

  “I have!” She becomes strident, stamping her boot. “I might not be as buxom as… as… as…” It’s fun watching her trying to grasp for something buxom. “As…” She fails in the attempt. “It doesn’t mean I’m not a grown woman. It’s not my fault a man doesn’t know a woman unless her bosom is falling out of her dress.”

  “Easy,” I say. “Lecturing me like that makes me half-believe you’re one of those suffragette vote-demanding spinsters.”

  Her gaze becomes utterly furious. “And iffin I was?”

  “You’d be in the wrong part of the country, but being tied to the tracks would make more sense,” I wink, letting her know I’m teasing her.

  She doesn’t crack a smile, but I see her bristle a little less.

  “I’ll stay with you until you reach a town,” she says. “Then I’ll go my own way.”

  “Well, Miss Josie, we don’t often go to towns, and the ones we go to aren’t likely to be the ones a a young woman alone is going to want to stop at. But you’re welcome to travel with us, long as you pull your weight around camp.”

  “And what does that mean?”

  “Means we got things that’s dirty that needs to be clean.”

  Josie

  He means he wants me to do their laundry, dishes, and cooking. Same things every man wants from a woman, bar one. I guess I should be grateful these outlaws didn't rip my dress off me and have their way with me. There’s plenty of men out here who would consider that rightful payment for rescue.

  “Fine.”

  “You can take the cot in here to sleep,” he says. “I don’t sleep much.”

  He’s offering me his bed? I’m starting to get suspicious all over again. I know what happens when a man gets a woman in his bed. Unseemly things. Things that tear her innocence to shreds.

  “Orion! We got riders!”

  The cry goes up from the watchman outside, saving us both another argument. I knew it wasn’t going to be this easy. They were never going to let me live. They’ll kill their way across the entire planet if it means putting lead in my brain.

  “You stay back…” Orion orders as he heads out.

  To hell with staying back. Orion has already headed out to face them, assuming I’m going to cower behind him and let the big bad outlaw protect me. I don’t think so. After the morning I’ve had, the need for vengeance runs thick in my veins.

  There’s a rifle propped up inside Orion’s tent. I grab it and I run out toward the cover they’re taking. The riders coming across the plain are taking pot shots at everything that moves, firing without care. Doesn’t matter who they slaughter as long as they get me. I plan to get them first.

  Chapter Two

  Orion

  The sight that confronts me when I step outside the tent is nothing short of jaw dropping. I expected a handful of bounty hunters to be taking cover just out of range, trying to finagle a way closer. But that’s not what’s happening. This gang is acting more like desperate criminals. They’re not even trying to find shelter, just charging at us like a pack of morons, wide open, practically asking for a bullet…

  THWIP!

  That bullet must have heard their request. It’s going the wrong way over my head, not from the guys shooting at us, but from someone behind me who is going to get his ass beaten for damn near shooting me in the skull. Having missed me, it catches the leader of the posse right in the center of his forehead and sends him falling backwards, the back of his head missing, his brains cascading out into the desert dust.

  “Good shot,” I call back. “But shoot that close to me again and it’ll be your last one.”

  “Sorry,” a female voice calls back. “You were in the way.”

  I look over my shoulder and see Josie standing there, my rifle in her hands, a thin plume of smoke coming from the barrel.

  I’ve known dangerous women in my time. I didn’t pick her for one, but I guess nobody seems dangerous when they’re tied to train tracks. I thought she was too small, too young, and too weak to do something like that. Killing a man in cold blood isn’t the action of a weak woman. Might not be the action of a sane one neither, especially given the way she's grinning her little head off.

  “Git up here and take cover,” I growl. “You’re waiting to get shot, standing there.”

  Fortunately for her, most of the posse has already broken off the attack. Seeing a friend’s brains in th
e dirt tends to frighten even the boldest man. A few keep firing, and they’re the ones who end up dead. My boys and me, we live our lives by our guns. Attacking us is the same thing as asking the reaper for a pass direct to hell.

  When the plain is clear of people trying to kill us, I turn to Josie.

  “Want to explain that?”

  “Shoot bad man,” she says, sassy as hell. “That explain it for ya?”

  I let the attitude slide for the moment. I’m more interested in getting information out of her than teaching her a lesson — though I’m thinking that will come. “You’re more than a runaway or a jilted bride, aren’t you girl. Tell me what you know. About all this.”

  “I know they’ll think twice before coming for me again.”

  “Who were they?”

  “Stupid fellers who thought they were going to get paid for killing me.”

  “It’s not very common that they send bounty hunters after women.”

  “You haven’t been checking the bounty boards. Women's faces are nailed up there as much as men these days.”

  “Uh huh.”

  She’s got me curious, but I know what happens to the curious. They get caught. And with as much noise as we just made out here, there’s going to be all kinds of the wrong sort of attention coming down on us. We need to move. I’ll question her later, and when I do, I’ll do it in a way she won't be able to avoid answering.

  “Let’s bury these boys and move on.”

  Josie

  He pushes a shovel into my hand. “Don’t usually have girls dig the graves, but don’t usually have girls doing the killing either.”

  “I’m not really a girl, mister. I’m a woman. And I’m a mad one.”

  “Is that right,” he laughs, gruffly. There’s more respect in his eyes though. No man takes a woman serious if he has to pry her off the train tracks, but I don’t look like a damsel in distress anymore, not now I’ve turned a man’s skull into bone splinters.

  I don’t mind digging a grave. With any luck, this will be the first of many graves I dig for the bastards who want to put me in one. The men who came today, they’re just peons, doing their job. When they don’t get back to their boss, he’ll send more. And more. He will send wave after wave of bastards for my blood, and in the end, I’m going to fucking kill him.