Tangled in Time Read online

  “Was there any exterior damage from the collision?” He had some, maybe the machine would, too.

  “Yes.” She looked puzzled again.

  “Can I see it?”

  “Of course.” She led the way, accepted his help in getting down the steps, paused to open her umbrella again, before leading him around to the rear of her machine. A gloved hand marked the spot, but he saw it without the help. It was about the same size and shape as the bruise on his side. No question he’d gotten the worst of it.

  He might have to believe more than six impossible things. He might have to believe they had collided while he was in the wormhole. But what had she been in—besides this thing? Another wormhole? Then she couldn’t be from the past, could she? To stall for time, he touched one of the wheels, because he wasn’t sure he really wanted to know when she was from. “What are these for?”

  “They descend when needed and allow the machine to travel at nearly one mile per hour.” Her gently proud tone gave way for a small sigh. “This place is not suitable to use them. It’s quite steep.”

  Carey had a picture of the machine bouncing and rolling all the way down to the valley. The landing there would be even worse than the one that killed her emergency whatever device. Which brought him back to what he didn’t want to think about.

  “You looked peaked, Colonel Carey. Perhaps we should go back inside.”

  He thought she was going to touch him, but she pulled back just before her glove could connect with his arm. Instead she indicated the hatchway. Even though he really wanted to go inside and sit in the chair, because it looked really cool, too, he didn’t. Instead, he propped a shoulder against the side of the machine and smiled. He tried to look friendly and harmless. She may have stowed the derringer, but the point of her umbrella looked pretty sharp.

  “Why don’t you call me Oke.”

  “O-ke?” Her nose wrinkled up.

  “It’s my call sign. Carey-oke. I can’t sing to save my life—” Her expression shifted to wary. Okay, so if she was from some other time, she’d have no idea what he was talking about. If she wasn’t, she would pretend she had no idea what he was talking about. “It’s complicated.”

  “Of course…Colonel…O-ke.”

  “Just Oke. Or Carey. The bubbas call me either.”

  Her brows arched, her voice on the chilly side. “The bubbas?”

  He rubbed his face, smiled again, because she’d seemed to like that. “My mom calls me Brae.” He did hopeful, while he played the mom card. After a pause, her expression softened.

  “I suppose, under the circumstances, it would be foolish to stand on formality…Brae.”

  The way she talked was cute and sexy and, okay it was weird, but when she said his name, her mouth got just right for kissing again. As he stared at her mouth and thought about kissing it, the edges curled up, slow but nice. Real nice. His heart jumped into hyperdrive. He was a guy and she was a girl, but he needed to get his thoughts together. His blood supply was heading south, not good for thinking. He focused on his worst Charlie foxtrot and the point of her umbrella. After a second or two some cc’s found their way back to his brain housing group.

  “You may call me Olivia.”

  She said it like her permission was a real prize. Maybe in her world it was.

  “Olivia.” He looked at her looking at him and forgot why he’d started the first name business. Something shifted in his chest, something new. Part of him wanted to kick on the after burner and buster out of here. Most of him liked the way color crept into her face. Her lashes swept down, her head turned. Her profile was—he tried out several words, but the only one that fit was elegant, with the umbrella playing frame. He didn’t use that word much. Not a lot of call for it around the bubbas. And if he had, the response would have been swift and merciless. Thinking about the bubbas helped clear his head some. He needed to know, even though he was half afraid to know. “What year was it when you left Brooklyn?”

  Her eyes widened. Her brows arched. Why did that kick start the kissing stuff again?

  “Are you having memory problems, Col—Brae?”

  “No, well, maybe. It’s important, Olivia.”

  “Why?”

  “I can’t explain right this minute, but I need you to trust me.” He produced his sincere look. It had worked in the past, even with the general. For several long seconds, she studied him, a hint of something in her eyes that kind of reminded him of the doc. Before she got too scary, her lashes went down and when they lifted, the look was gone. Or he’d imagined it.

  “Eighteen hundred and ninety-four.” That last was added a bit mournfully. “When do you fear it is, Brae?”

  She was from the past. If he believed her, and right now he kind of did. He looked into her brown eyes and he realized he totally believed her, deep in his gut, even if his brain was going, what the heck…

  He was the wrong person for this—he wanted to tell her that, but the trust in her eyes killed the words faster than a smart bomb. He’d asked her to trust him and she had. And it appeared to be his fault she was in a fix. If this was his fault, he couldn’t strand her and leave.

  If it was 2010, he knew people that could help her. If it wasn’t? At least he could help her to people in her time, while he waited for his retrieval—which he really hoped would come. He didn’t want to be stranded in 1894. Were there people near here in her time that could help her? What he remembered about this area pre-Pancho Villa—finding her people might be harder than getting her to Area 51 in his. Unless he took her with him when he got yanked? If he got yanked. General wouldn’t like that, but was it a security breach if she was from 1894?

  He tried to smile. “I was hoping it was 1894.” No reason to worry her until he knew when they were. He wished he knew how much time he had. The doc hadn’t known. Now that he thought about it, the doc hadn’t known a lot. He needed to pay better attention to disclaimers and stuff before volunteering to do crap like this. The one thing he did remember was the doc telling him to be careful about touching anyone, because anyone touching him when the retrieval initiated would travel with him. At the time, he’d thought that sucked. He’d hoped to do some guy to girl touching while he waited for the clock to tick down. It was part of the reason he’d volunteered to play portal guinea pig. Now he could touch away—if she’d let him.

  She was kind of prim and proper. A babe in the mountains. She’d be buzzard bait, if he left her here. But how could he convince her she needed to let him touch her, in a mostly harmless way? All the time. Until he could get her to Area 51, or they found someone in her time that could help her, or they got sucked into the return wormhole to another galaxy? And how did he do all that touching without kissing her while he touched her? Cause he wanted to kiss her like it was his job.

  He had a feeling she’d shoot him with her derringer if he tried. After she stabbed him with her umbrella.

  TWO

  Olivia found it difficult to think with Brae in such close proximity. Granted the cabin made a truly proper distance impractical, but either the cabin had gotten smaller or he’d moved closer. He smelled lovely, a mix of unfamiliar spice and man, perhaps? She’d never been close enough to an actual man to smell one before. Perhaps there was good reason parents stressed a proper distance prior to a betrothal. She longed to lean closer and what? What happened next? She’d learned many things working with the professor, but none of it was helpful at this moment.

  Brae’s hand gripped her elbow as if he feared she’d fall. It warmed her to her toes and made her feel like she might fall. It was likely ironic, though at the moment she wasn’t clear exactly how.

  “So, you were testing the trans—thing—”

  “No, we were testing the Individual Discovery Velocipediator.”

  “Right.” He lifted his cap and then replaced it. “So the SitRep is, you were testing the Individual thing and hit something and now the professor doesn’t know where you are and—” He stopped, as if he weren’t su
re what came next.

  “What’s a SitRep?”

  “A situation report.”

  “Interesting.” Should she tell him? The professor wouldn’t like it. Before she could decide, he continued.

  “So you’re like, stuck here? Cause your machine is broken?”

  Was it broken? “It is not performing properly,” she amended, not yet ready to concede it was irreparably broken. He appeared worried or possibly vexed. Was he vexed for her or because of her?

  “Can you fix it?”

  Olivia’s eyes widened. He believed she could fix something besides dinner? He was very forward thinking. Despite her pleasure at his question, she did not have a definitive answer. She had spent the hours since the malfunction attempting to determine the nature of the damage. With the dawn, had come the realization of just how wrong the experiment had gone. When she failed to arrive, the professor would activate the locating device, but since she did not know where he was, she did not know how long it would take for him to arrive.

  “Under current circumstances, no,” she admitted with regret, waiting for him to exhibit male superiority at her female weakness, but his expression did not change. It made her wish she had something more definitive to tell him. She suspected that water wasn’t getting to the molecule fractulator, but she didn’t know. She’d had enough water in the tanks to complete the experiment prior to the impact, but the gauges were fluctuating as much as the water pressure. There was still enough power for some of the devices to continue to function, but the transmogrification engine required more power than appeared to be currently available.

  “What do we need to do? Do these things tell you anything?” He gestured toward the gauges. His eyes crinkled around the edges in a way detrimental to her knees. “Are they supposed to be that jumpy?”

  “No.” Olivia admitted, warmth curling around her insides at his “we.” Perhaps he did not intend to leave? This should not matter. A scientist did not flinch at any circumstance, according to Professor Twitchet, but then he also insisted a woman could never be a true scientist. She was unsure where that left her where flinching was concerned.

  “Maybe you’re out of water.”

  “With the gauges behaving so oddly, it’s hard to know anything with any certainty.” Or to care when he looked at her in that way. He did have the most amazing eyes.

  “Right. Worked on a few engines in my time. Maybe I can help.”

  Olivia still felt an instinctive trust for Brae, but felt required to be wary of his motives. He was most fascinated with everything, but was it scientific curiosity or a threat to the experiment? She wished he might look at her with as much interest. “You are an inventor?”

  “More…assistant, like you.”

  “Oh.” Olivia smiled. He acted as if they were equal. It caused more warmth to infuse her in a way quite new and unfamiliar. Olivia would have liked to have his assessment of the engines that propelled the device, but she couldn’t allow him in the engine room. She feared the professor would expect her to die before she compromised the integrity of that space, even if she was a mere female.

  “Extra hands and all that.”

  Olivia considered a response, her gaze caught by his in a way that was most unladylike, but wonderfully pleasant. “The professor has quite strict…protocols, I fear. If I violate the integrity of the experiment, he would be very displeased.” It would be most unfair of him to terminate her employment, but men were not, in her experience, always fair.

  “Okay.”

  His grin lost no intensity. He seemed unconcerned to a remarkable degree.

  “So, what’s protocol?”

  “I’m supposed to secure the device and return to Gotham City.” She did have money to buy a train ticket and housing, as part of her emergency supplies, if either of these things were close at hand, which they did not seem to be.

  “So you need transport?”

  “I had thought of seeking assistance at the encampment.” Olivia knew she sounded doubtful. She had found it as puzzling as Brae. It was so far outside her experience, she had yet to find words to describe to herself what she’d seen, let alone share them with Brae. And it was common knowledge that this part of Texas was wild and rife with persons of doubtful character.

  Brae blinked again. His eyes got a bit unfocused, as if his thoughts had turned inward.

  “An encampment? Where?”

  “It is situated near the Rio Grande River.” If he did not know of the encampment, then it must not be his destination. The sharp stab of disappointment was not welcome. She was supposed to be brave enough to do whatever science required of her. It was disheartening to realize that what she’d felt since the experiment failed was not all close to brave. Mrs. Pankhurst would, if she knew of Olivia—which she didn’t, but if she did, she’d be most disappointed.

  “That way?” He pointed south. “How do you know there’s an encampment that way?” Now he looked openly puzzled.

  “I climbed up to the top of the ridge and saw it.” She’d have felt affronted by his disbelief, but she saw honest surprise in his face, not male superiority.

  “You saw an encampment that direction?” He pointed south, as if he thought she might be mistaken. “It wasn’t a mirage?”

  “I don’t believe it was a mirage.” He still looked a bit shocked. “I used the professor’s telescope and it appeared quite real.” In the physical sense, though in her experience, not that real, she conceded to herself.

  He frowned. “We can’t be where I thought we were then. I need to go look.”

  “Of course.” She hesitated, but it would not get easier by putting it off. “It looked to be at least six miles to the encampment. I should set out before it becomes too late. I don’t wish to proceed when it’s dark.”

  His frown altered in some way that Olivia couldn’t define.

  “I think you’re right. We should head there. It’s the closest water source and if there are people who can help, that would be good.”

  We. The relief should have troubled her. Perhaps it would—when she was once more safely in Gotham City. Odd how her sense of urgency about getting back to the professor’s laboratory had faded. Well, Mama always said that a lady doesn’t hurry. So, she wouldn’t hurry. She was having an adventure and she should enjoy it as much as possible. Brae looked less enthusiastic about their adventure.

  “Something still concerns you?”

  “I thought I knew where we are, but—I was pretty young, last time I was here. Maybe my memory isn’t as good as I thought it was.”

  “A child’s perspective is most different than that of an adult. My grandfather said he had to get very old to see his childhood clearly.” Who brought a young boy to such a desolate place? Perhaps he came from a long line of border ruffians? He looked at her, his bold gaze traveling up, then down her person. It was so unexpected, she felt heat flood her face.

  “Can you walk in that?”

  “In what?” She was not used to bold looks, though she was not as averse to them as she’d thought she’d be.

  “Your clothes and shoes.”

  More color rushed into her face. The gentlemen she knew didn’t talk about ladies attire, but he was a ruffian. One must make allowances. “I walked up the mountain and returned without altering my attire before or after.”

  “Right. Of course.”

  He rubbed his face with his free hand, his other hand tightening on her arm. The bridge felt as if it suddenly had a fireplace. She wished she had a fan, but she hadn’t known she’d need one. He leaned in, studying the map. What did he hope to see? It was Texas, not the moon. Not that she was complaining. His position gave her the opportunity to study the rear fit of this attire. She had believed his trousers were not well crafted, but actually they were quite well fitting when he bent over. She eased a hand into her tie, in an attempt to cool down. A bit late to wish she had her velocipede costume, but she’d thought she was going on a picnic after the experiment, not off to see
the elephant.

  “We should move out ASAP. It’s only going to get hotter out there.”

  Olivia was not familiar with a-sap outside of trees, but the context seemed to indicate a need for speed.

  “How long will it take you to secure this thing?”

  “It takes ten minutes.” The professor had timed her. Several times. Sometimes men of science were not easy to be around. At the moment, she much preferred the border ruffian.

  * * * *

  To Carey, the shutting down process looked random and a bit silly, but maybe powering down a Dauntless would look as random to a non-pilot. If there was a pattern to it, he didn’t see it, as she manipulated levers and pushed buttons on various panels. Outside was a different story. The hatch, when closed had a series of seven locks that spun and turned in different directions and each had a different configuration—all of them mad scientist whacky. Six of them looked like six different versions of combination locks, but the last one had a key. It was like no key he’d ever seen. It was as big as Olivia’s hand and glowed green when she inserted it in the key hole. When she removed it, it turned black and looked like it could have been the key to the gate for Count Dracula’s estate in Transylvania. It disappeared into a pocket in her dress. Maybe with the derringer, maybe not. She could have another person hidden under those skirts. He still wasn’t sure he wasn’t having a really weird dream. Or maybe he was in a coma, since he couldn’t get out of it.

  The sun was climbing, though their altitude helped moderate the heat a bit, but not enough. Olivia was going to get hot fast in that get up once they started climbing.

  “You should shed a few layers. It’s only going to get hotter.” Her eyes widened. She looked like she might object, so he added, “It’s scientifically sound, you know. All that stuff will hold the heat against your body.” He had no clue if he was right, but he knew she’d be more comfortable if she loosened some stuff.

  “Oh. Well. If it’s scientifically sound…”

  He made a mental note of her susceptibility to the word “science,” then added, “And SOP for this type of hike.”