Iron Seas 03 - Riveted

that boat and killing the crew,” he said. “They’ll search Phatéon next. There’re too many to fight, and God knows how many are manning this damn whale, but if they don’t find anyone, they’ll assume we all abandoned ship. Do you know a place to hide?”
    Annika the Rabbit always knew a place to hide. “The engine room. There’s a smuggle hole there.”
    He took her hand again, tugged her forward. Water splashed under their feet, the remnants of the wave that had washed over the upper deck—but the lower levels wouldn’t be wet. Annika stopped, pulled her hand free. She stripped the mantle and her tunic over her head, toed off her boots.
    “Annika?”
    “I’ll lead them straight to us, dripping a trail.”
    Her trousers were next, leaving her clad in a chemise, drawers, and her wool stockings. All damp, but not soaked.
    His voice was strained. “You’ll freeze.”
    Not in the engine room. Not for a while, at least. She collected her clothes and belt, keeping her largest, heaviest spanner. Her palm against the bulkhead, she felt her way to the nearest cabin and tossed them in. A wet flop told her David had removed his overcoat. She held out her hand. He threaded his fingers through hers, led her on.
    The heat of the engine room had never been so welcome. The warmth seemed to embrace her, reassure her with its familiarity.
    “Where’s the smuggle hole?”
    “In the floor, around the starboard side.” She followed him across the boards, picturing the layout in her mind. “In line withthe third piston. There’s a spring-lock in one of the boards, disguised as a knot. Press it down with your thumb, and when it’s all the way in, twist it clockwise a full turn.”
    He let her go. The scrape of metal sounded, then clicking as the locking mechanism disengaged.
    “Now count three…four boards to port. The hatch is there. You’ll have to slide the regulator on the desk between the planks to pry up the door.”
    A minute later, hinges squeaked. “Will we both fit?”
    She heard his doubt—he must have looked inside. “A French count and his wife did, and they were both well fed.”
    Though it had been a squeeze. The space was no wider than her bunk, and not much deeper. The hole had been built between the decks, but couldn’t be so large as to arouse suspicion. From the boiler room, it looked like a pipe conduit.
    “Will we be able to breathe?”
    “Those pipes have open ends.”
    “All right. Even if they have thermal lenses instead of light enhancers, the heat from the boilers and engine will overwhelm them—and they shouldn’t be able to detect us through the floor.” He took her hand again, but hesitated before moving again. “The way this floor is tilted, you’ll be sliding up on top of me.”
    “I’ll try not to squash you.”
    “That’s not what I—” He stopped abruptly, made a choked sound that might have been a laugh or a groan. “All right. I’ll get in. You come after.”
    She waited until he settled. Feet first, she felt her way in. David lay on his back, stiff as the boards around them. The hole wasn’t wide enough to lie shoulder-to-shoulder. She tried to hold herself up, scrunching her back against the wall. She only managed to overbalance and fall against his arm.
    Struggling to brace herself, Annika pushed against his solid chest. “I can’t seem to—”
    “Roll up against me.”
    “But if I can—”
    “Annika.”
    With a sigh, she did, rolling onto her hip and half lying against him with his arm trapped between her stomach and his left side. Her neck bent awkwardly when she tried to rest her head on the boards. “Can I put my head on your shoulder?”
    He slid his arm from between them, giving her room. “Yes.”
    She moved in closer. The cotton of his shirt was damp, but his shoulder was broad and warm beneath her cheek. His arm came around her, metal fingers resting lightly at her waist. She could feel the structure of his prosthetic through her thin chemise and his shirt sleeve, the hard muscle of his biceps narrowing to the hinge of his elbow, the steel of his forearm across her back.
    All strength. She wouldn’t have felt as safe with anyone else.
    “All right?” His whisper sounded lower, rougher.
    “Yes.”
    He moved against her, reaching up. Hinges squeaked again as he lowered the lid over them. A click sounded—the locking mechanism. Unless the pirates already knew where this smuggle hole was and how to open it, they’d remain