Lace & Lead

Douglass was giving him a strange look. Kai was chortling.

“What?” Peirce asked, exasperated.

“Emma?” Douglass raised an eyebrow.

Shit. “Easier than saying Miss Gregson all the time,” Peirce mumbled.

“Sure.” Kai shrugged. “I prefer keeping the names to just a few syllables too. Easier to remember what to call them when I kick them out the next morning.”

It made no sense, but one second Peirce was standing there, talking with his men and the next, his knee was pushing down on Kai’s chest and his knife was out and to his throat. Fortunately, Douglass was already pulling him off.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Kai coughed as he picked himself off the ground.

Peirce knew he was being irrational, but didn’t care. He pointed the knife at Kai with a steady hand. “Don’t talk about her like that.”

“Geez, sir, what crawled up your ass?” Douglass patted his shoulder and looked back at Kai. “He was just joking.”

Peirce shrugged off Douglass’s hand and turned. “I’ve got to go,” he said and split before they could ask him any more awkward questions.

The Berkwan order he’d put in would be ready to pick up any time. It was about time to head back to Emma—shit, Emmaline...FUCK! Miss Gregson—but on his way to the restaurant, a window display with a simple dress caught his attention. She’d said she’d need new clothes. Hell, he knew her size for the most part…

The store was small, but clean. Obviously new, since turnover in this section of town was high. Peirce wandered the display racks, not sure what he was searching for.

“Can I help you?”

A small woman beamed up at him from behind her glasses. Her hair was nearly silver and she was so bent and arthritic that Peirce knew he’d never live with himself if he didn’t buy something and justify her getting off her stool to help him.

“No thank you, ma’am. I can find it myself.”

Finding the right women’s clothes was more difficult than locating the scrap for most of the engines he’d ever rebuilt. He settled on two dresses, another pair of pants, some shirts, a pair of practical boots and finally deigned to let the old woman pick out appropriate undergarments. Bag in hand and realising how late he was running, he ducked quickly into the restaurant to pick up the food.

The crowds of people heading home from work were slowing as night crept closer, the twin moons climbing into the sky. Each step around another person left Peirce more and more anxious. He should have been home almost an hour ago. He knew that the apartment was secure and Emmaline would be safe there, but something just felt…off.

Skin crawling from unease, Peirce shouldered his way into the apartment building. He was nearly to the elevator. Soon he’d be upstairs, safe and eating decent food and watching Emmaline’s face when she got a load of her new clothes.

He heard the brush of fabric and dropped the bags to his sides, hitting a knee and steadying himself on it, drawing his knife in a fluid motion and pulling back for a swift throw, before he saw who it was.

“Peirce?” Emmaline squeaked from the darkened corner where she’d been sitting.

The air left his lungs in a whoosh and he immediately sheathed the weapon. He’d almost let go. Old habits were hard to break. Worse, he hadn’t hit her. A few years ago, he wouldn’t have hesitated. Kill first, ask questions later. Hesitation like that meant he was getting old, weak, less than capable.

He buried those thoughts and found himself focusing on Emmaline’s wan face. Fear and rage warred for superiority with

in him. Eventually, with tempered irritation, he was able to find his voice. “Miss Gregson, what the fuck are you doing down here? Didn’t you think Stone might have the ability to hack security feeds?”

She managed a tremulous smile at his statement, which confused the hell out of him.

“I knew you’d say something like that,” she finally said. “It’s why I was waiting over there instead of down at the restaurant. I didn’t see any cameras pointing that way.”

She’d found a blind spot. Smart girl. But it was no time for weakness.

“You didn’t listen to my orders.”

She looked up at him, mouth a tight line. “I got locked out of the apartment.”

Peirce sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, already feeling a tension headache coming on, tightening his neck and shoulders, making his eyes throb. “Grab the food.”

She did so without argument, taking up the bag and checking that the containers were all still sealed. Peirce picked up the bag of clothes, not sure how he’d explain their purchase and punched the call button for the elevator.