Read Online Soldier of Fortune: A Gideon Quinn Adventure (Fortune Chronicles Book 1) by Kathleen McClure - Free Book Online Page A

observed. "I ain't never seen so many scars."
    And she shouldn’t be seeing them now, he thought, except it wasn't that big a towel.
    "How'd you get so messed up?"
    A childhood in occupied Tesla, half a lifetime soldiering, six years in hell...
    "It's complicated," he said to the backs of his eyelids.
    This statement met with another silence, followed by more running water, followed by the slopping, scraping, swooshing sounds of someone cleaning up.
    He cracked an eye open to see her using the last clean towel to dump the broken shards of his teacup in the waste bin before moving over to the — aha — busted window to clean up those shards.
    At least now he knew why it was so cold.
    He looked over the side of the tub and noted she'd used the second-to-last clean towel to wipe away his regurgitated dinner. He didn't ask where said towel had ended up.
    "Who'd ruin a nice masala, or maybe it was the soup, with enough morph to knock out a mastodon?" he asked instead.
    The girl shook window glass into the bin with a musical clatter. "Someone what wants you dead?"
    "Guess that rules you out," he commented. "By the way, I'm Gideon. Thanks for saving my life."
    She shrugged but rather than offer her own name, dropped the glass-filled towel into the bin with a shake of her hand, sowing the bright white fabric with a field of tiny red drops.
    "You're bleeding." Alarmed, Gideon tried to stand and instantly regretted the attempt, not just because of the lingering dizziness, but because he almost dropped the towel.
    That earned a snort from his damsel to the rescue. "So are you," she pointed to the cloth on his shoulder, stained with long red streaks.
    "Still, you should clean that hand."
    "Already did, mother, but thanks.” She did take a moment to pat the bleeding knuckles dry with a bit of tissue.
    "How'd you get injured, anyway," he asked. "You did it when you broke the window," he answered his own question. "But why did you break the window? Right, because you were outside,” he continued the trend.
    "You talk to yourself a lot, then?"
    He stared at her. “You were outside ?"
    "Well, I wasn't hiding in the loo, was I?"
    Was he this much of a smartass at that age? Probably. "Okay, but — why ?"
    "Would you rather I left you to drown?"
    "Absolutely not. But you know, most folks would wonder why a kid your age would even be in the position to break a second story window, that she might come to the assistance of a drowning man, in the first place. Then again,” he managed a weak half-smile, “I’m not most folks, and neither are you, I'm guessing. Just like I'm guessing you’re the one who followed me here from the tram station."
    He enjoyed a brief flash of triumph in being able to surprise the seemingly unflappable girl.
    The enjoyment was quickly squashed as she tucked a loose coil hair behind her right ear, momentarily displacing the shadowing hood and allowing Gideon to see the bruise marring her jaw.
    That got him to his feet.
    "Who did that to you?"
    "What? Who did what?" she looked around herself, startled.
    "That stinger of a bruise you're sporting," he said, one hand on the wall and the other gripping the towel firmly in place.
    "It ain't nothing," she said, hunching into her hood.
    "Isn't anything," he corrected automatically, and almost laughed at the look she shot him. "Sorry, but seriously, did your fagin do that?"
    "What d'you know about fagins?"
    "Only what I learned from mine, back in the day."
    "Your — you had a fagin?" That got her interest. "Nah," she dismissed the idea immediately. "No way you was a dodger."
    His head tilted as he considered the kid. "Why not?"
    " Because ," she said with the air of one pointing out the obvious, "you're old."
    "Well, ouch."
    "I mean, you know, you're grown up, is all."
    "I didn't start that way," he said.
    "Fine,” she shrugged again, "but not many who start as dodgers sign on to the Corps, do they?"
    “Yeah, well,” now he shrugged, looking uncomfortable, “they did