Chapter Text
“Drat,” Poppy mutters as a blob of ink drips from her quill and lands on the parchment, seeping through the last few words she’s written.
She blows a piece of stray hair out of her eyes and tries to ignore the analog computer propped on the other side of the desk, its golden keys winking at her in the sunlight.
She squints back at it. "Stop looking at me like that," she murmurs as she waves the stained paper back and forth in the air to dry it.
Yes, it would be easier to use one of the machines Gil had surprised her and her coworkers with a couple of months ago, to just fudging type her notes for the article and store them safely away from spills and pastry crumbs. It’s the most sensible thing to do, really, especially when she considers the fact that the computers must have cost her boss a pretty penny.
But some days, today being one of those, she prefers to feel the slender weight of a quill in her hand, the loops and curves of words being born beneath her fingers.
She has to admit that the sudden boom in the technology movement has made things more accessible, especially for people like her who are a bit… well, vertically challenged. Her eyes slide over to the wall on her right, where Gil recently had hand-crank rolling shelves and coat racks installed. No more stretching for the now limited supply of parchment and pens that are just out of her reach, no more having to call Erdene over to help.
Even so, even with the added conveniences to her day to day life, she misses it, sometimes. The way life used to be. Balancing on her tiptoes like a ballerina for the things she can’t reach, reading by candlelight instead of the artificial glow of lanterns that fly by themselves.
And sometimes, Poppy thinks as she returns her gaze to the paper in front of her, she just likes being reminded of what her handwriting looks like; she doesn’t want to lose it, after all. Not when her father worked so hard to teach her the skill.
Poppy’s eyes trace over the black dots she’d dribbled on the page, seeking constellations in the little inky stars. She smiles, shoves up the sleeves of her blouse and cleans the excess ink off of her pen with a handkerchief.
Despite the mess and the inconvenient shadows the October sun is casting across her desk, it’s still a quill and ink kind of day.
She hunches awkwardly over the stack of papers to better see what she’s writing and as if on cue, the glow of her favorite, noisy lantern suddenly fills her work space.
Poppy raises her head and smiles at the floating light. “Thanks, Claire,” she says. “How do you always seem to know when I need you?”
Claire bobs near her head and answers with a metallic screech. Poppy giggles. The lumen is unmistakable; while the other lanterns in the office hum and are practically silent, Claire occasionally emits a sharp grinding noise, as if she’s got a gear loose or a missing piece.
Erdene and Jacob complain about the sound, but she likes it. It gives the cold piece of metal a little spunk and it’s why she felt compelled to even speak to her in the first place, to give her a name. She’s one of a kind.
After nearly an hour of writing, Poppy sits up straight in her chair and stretches. She looks at the clock on the wall and its glowing orange numbers tell her that she’s worked right through her lunch. Shoot. Good thing she brought a couple of things from home that she can eat at her desk.
Poppy dips a hand into her satchel and pulls out an apple. She takes a bite of the fruit and her eyes flicker to watch Jacob, who is slouched over his desk in the opposite corner. She doesn’t hear the clacking of his keyboard and she assumes he’s got his nose buried in another one of his puzzle books.
When he’s not attending vendor meetings or traveling door to door selling subscriptions to the Giant Pike Press paper, he’s trying to crack another cipher. Jacob reminds her of her father in that way, always eager to solve the next problem.
The thought makes her smile a little. She takes another bite and chews thoughtfully as she stares out the window. It’s one of those cloudless fall days and the sun is out in full force, deceptively making the outside appear warmer than it actually is. The air was crisp and fresh on her ride into work this morning; before she knows it, it’ll be time to harvest her crops.
The cobblestone road, as it often is, is peppered with street carts selling their wares: earthen pottery, wood-carved knick knacks and discounted appliances fashioned from scrap pieces of tech the vendors had managed to get their hands on. A variety of homemade preserves, honey and jam is being sold by an older man called Otto, who’s parked in his usual spot in front of the blacksmith shop.
As if he can feel her eyes on him, Otto raises his snowy head in the direction of the office window. He then glances down at his cart and points at one of the shelves, the one that she just so happens to know he keeps stocked with the most sinfully delicious strawberry jam. He waves his other hand at her, gesturing for her to come over.
Poppy laughs and returns the old man’s wave, mouthing the word “Later” at him. It’s been a while since she’s treated herself and some of Otto’s jam will help make the stale bread in her satchel go down a bit easier.
A streak of gray flashes past the window and then the bell above the door sings out as Erdene returns from her meeting downtown.
“Morning, Pops,” she greets her as she strolls past her desk. Her icy blue eyes find the clock on the wall and widen as she collapses into a chair across from her. “Shit, is that the time already? Damn meeting took longer than I thought it would.”
“Have you eaten anything yet?” Poppy asks. “I’ve got some bread and cheese in my bag if you want.”
Erdene shakes her head and flicks her long, silvery hair over her shoulder. “No thanks. I don’t really have an appetite after working with Henderson for three hours.”
Poppy smirks in understanding. She’s dealt with the young, penny-pinching baker before, when she’d written an article for the grand opening of his business and just yesterday, when she’d bought the bread now tucked in her bag. Despite it being a few days old, he’d still had it marked full price. It was the only whole wheat loaf he'd had on the shelf and she’d been hungry enough not to argue it.
“Meeting didn’t go so well?” Poppy asks as she admires the way the sun glints off her friend’s hair; when the light catches it just right, it shines blue and sometimes the slightest shade of purple. It’s so beautiful, almost unreal compared to her own plain brown locks.
“You know how he is,” Erdene says, fiddling with one of the buttons marching down the legs of her trousers. “He wants a full page ad for the price of a half and his first thousand edits free.”
Poppy sighs. “That sounds about right. I won’t even tell you how much I paid for his bread.”
Erdene rolls her eyes. “You paid full price for one of his shitty old yeast bricks again? Poppy, girl, we’ve talked about this. Just yesterday, in fact,” she says and wags a long finger at her. “When are you going to start standing up for yourself?”
“I do stand up for myself, Dene,” Poppy argues. “It’s why I’m even here in the city to begin with.”
“I know. And I’m so proud of you for that. For kicking that cheating dickwad to the curb and making it out here on your own.”
Poppy waits, but Erdene doesn’t continue.
“Buuuut…” she prods her friend.
Erdene smirks. “But you can’t plop down like an old maid just because you’re finally here. You can’t just… stop. You’ve gotta get out there, try new things. Make some noise and stop paying assholes full price for the bread they shit out a week ago.” She leans forward and pinches one of her cheeks. Poppy laughs and playfully smacks her hand away.
“Just… live a little. That’s all I’m saying.”
Poppy lets out a sigh. “I’ll consider it, Dene.”
“Why don’t you consider it tonight? Over drinks with me and Jacob at Chevy’s?”
Poppy wrinkles her nose. “I don’t know…”
Erdene stands and circles Poppy’s chair to drape her arms around her shoulders. “C’mon, Pops. You’ve got on my favorite blouse of yours and… is this a new hairpin? It’s gorgeous. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you wear it before.”
Poppy quirks her eyebrows in confusion. “Hairpin?” She reaches to touch the back of her head and her fingertips are met with the feel of smooth metal and gemstones.
Fudge.
Her mother’s hairpin. She can’t believe she left the house wearing it. She’d spent most of her morning feeling nostalgic and sorting through a box of her father’s old things; when she found the barrette, she’d immediately swept it into her hair.
Aside from a few hazy memories of softly-sung lullabies and the sugary taste of sorghum cake on her tongue, it’s the only thing she has left of her mother. With that pin nestled in her hair, it was the closest she’d felt to her in years.
In her rush to leave for work, she’d completely forgotten about it. She’s not sure if it’s valuable; her father never said. She needs to have it appraised, to know how to properly store it. If it’s worth something, she doesn’t want to be wearing it out just anywhere.
“No, no, don’t take it out!” Erdene cries as Poppy’s fingers find and dislodge the clip. “You can wear it out with us tonight!”
“I actually shouldn’t be wearing it at all,” Poppy says as she pulls the barrette from her hair. “I forgot I even had it in. It was my mother’s. I have no idea what it’s worth.”
“Oooh,” Erdene says behind her. “Well, in that case, I’m sure Gil will let you store it in his office safe until tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?”
“Yeah. You won’t be back for it tonight, not after coming out to the saloon with us.”
Poppy sighs. She stands and takes a couple steps in the direction of Gil’s office. She’d hoped her friend would just drop it. “I’ll… think about it, okay?”
Erdene flashes her a wicked grin. “There’s nothing to think about. I don’t care if I have to tie you up and drag you behind the trolley. You’re coming.”
“What’s that, Dene? I’m sorry, I can’t hear you. I’m so far awaaay,” Poppy calls over her shoulder and laughs at her friend’s mouthing as she ducks into her boss’ office.
Gil, as usual, is sitting behind his mahogany desk, typing away on his computer. While the machines in the lobby are permanently stationed at each cubicle, Gil’s is portable and snaps closed like a briefcase. He carries it with him everywhere, probably so he can choose to work at the drop of a hat. He’s been putting in more hours lately, Poppy’s noticed, and the evidence of his labor is littered throughout the entire building.
She admires the bronze sconces mounted in the corner, the floor-length velvet curtains draped over the window and her favorite addition: the rolling artwork on the wall.
It operates on a timer and every hour, the stretched canvas scrolls within the frame, revealing a new painted scene. Right now, it’s set to one made up of brown, honey and midnight blue streaks, a desert landscape at night. Somewhere she might like to visit one day.
“It’s your favorite, right?” Gil asks and Poppy’s eyes dart to her boss’ desk, where he’s looking at her over his laptop screen.
“Hmm?” she asks, caught off guard now that she’s drawn his attention away from his work.
Gil smiles. “The painting. Seems like you always pop in just as it’s changing over to that one.”
“Oh. Um, it is one of my favorites,” she says. “But today it’s just a happy accident. I actually came in here to ask you something.”
“Shoot.” Gil leans back in his chair and stretches.
“Well, I sort of accidentally wore this hairpin into the office.” She holds it up for him to see. “It’s my mother’s and I’d rather not chance leaving it out. Would you mind if I stored it in your safe until we leave tonight?”
Gil squints for a moment at the gem-encrusted pin. “Sure,” he finally says. “It’s pretty and who knows? Might be worth something. I’ll open her up for you.”
He rounds the desk and crouches down in front of the mid-sized safe. She hears the sound of the metal lock spinning and looks away so she doesn’t accidentally see the combination. The door opens with a groan and Gil turns to her with a hand outstretched.
He takes the pin and holds it toward the light momentarily, staring hard at it once again. “Think these are rubies?” he asks casually.
“Um, my father never mentioned it,” she tells him. “I need to have it appraised to be sure.”
“Hmm,” he hums and says nothing more.
The way he’s looking at the pin, turning it over and over is making her feel… strange, but she doesn’t show it. Gil’s always been good to her, after all. He was willing to take a chance on her, a small-town girl who could read and write, but had no typing or editing experience before she stepped foot in his office. She’s lucky to be here and she knows it.
Gil finally slides the pin into the safe and shuts the door, spinning the lock a few times before standing and facing her. He places a palm on top of the metal box and pats it.
“Whatever it is, it’s safe in here with me,” he tells her with a grin. “Remind me to get it back out for you before we leave.”
Poppy returns his smile. "Thanks, Gil. I won't forget."
—
It’s nearly an hour later, after Poppy’s returned to her cubicle and is paragraphs deep into her draft, when the sun finally shifts and her desk is no longer scattered with shadows. Claire bobs and leaves her with a shrill screech, sailing over to the other corner where Erdene is tapping away on her keyboard.
“Ooooh no, you metal banshee, I’m not in the mood for you today,” Erdene says, immediately pausing her typing to hold a hand up to the lumen. “Go away or I’ll let Tene out there recycle you into a cheap coffee grinder.”
Jacob laughs behind his desk and Poppy scowls playfully at her silver-haired friend. “Erdene, don’t be such a bully. She’s only trying to help.”
Erdene furrows her eyebrows. “She’s doing the exact opposite of hel…”
Poppy raises a brow at her and Erdene cuts herself off with a roll of her eyes.
"It is doing the exact opposite of helping.”
“You’re going to hurt her feelings, Dene,” Poppy says pointedly. As she leans back over her parchment, the remainder of her forgotten apple catches her eye. She reaches for it and takes a bite.
“It’s a thing, Pops. It doesn’t have feelings!”
Poppy giggles and before she can jump to defend Claire’s honor once again, the sudden sound of thundering hoofbeats and gunshots bears down on her ears. She snaps her head to the window, where she can see frenzied swirls of dust in the air, like a sand storm is being born at their front door.
Pedestrians are fleeing down the street, hurtling themselves through the doors of random businesses and vendors are abandoning their carts in a mad dash.
She watches with bated breath as Otto ducks into the blacksmith shop and peers out the store window in the direction of Giant Pike Press.
What in the world is going on?
In a matter of moments, the city street quiets; it empties and the dust settles. The sound of thunder has subsided, save for her own heartbeat thumping hard in her ears and what sounds like heavy stomping right outside the door.
A thread of panic trills through Poppy as she stands from her chair. She meets Erdene’s widened eyes across the room, then Jacob’s before her gaze latches onto Gil’s office door. Where is he? Why isn’t he reacting? The commotion had come from his side of the building; he had to have heard or seen-
The front door abruptly slams open, sending a shudder through the building. A collection of framed articles rattles against the wall and Poppy jumps at the sudden sound. Her breathing is haggard as her eyes lock onto the front door and then her vision is filled with black.
A man draped in black leather clothing strides in on heavy boots; he’s broadly built and tall- goodness, he’s so tall- with long, raven-colored hair and skin the color of sand dunes. He reminds her of the painting in Gil’s office, of night settling over the desert. Beneath the rim of his dark cowboy hat, a pair of golden eyes glint as they survey the office.
Poppy’s eyes fall to his large hands; to her surprise, he’s not armed with a typical weapon. Instead, one fist is clenched around a crowbar and the other is gripping a knotted mess of rope.
He’s… striking and even though he’s not openly wielding a knife or a pistol, his presence takes up the entire room.
However, the two men who crowd into the room behind him are armed, one with a rifle and the other with a handgun.
The one pointing the rifle is wearing a wide-brimmed hat and his dark stare contrasts with the faded… is it pink? bandana tied around his neck.
The other man has large, wild eyes; they’re outlined with dark smudges and lock onto Jacob as he shifts around behind his desk. The man cocks his pistol and takes aim at her coworker, but doesn’t fire.
Poppy’s gaze returns to the giant in front; he’s clearly the one who will decide if anyone gets hurt. His yellow eyes are squinted as they scan the office, as though he’s looking for something.
His eyes eventually land on her and she sucks in a breath, holding as still as she possibly can. His eyebrows raise and his mouth curls to one side, revealing a dimple. If it were under any other circumstance, if she was seeing him for the first time at a tavern or her favorite bookstore, she might think he was looking at her almost… appreciatively?
Poppy watches his lips move and finally, he speaks, his voice gravelly and low.
“Where’s the safe?”
Poppy blinks. The muscles in her throat are tight and it takes her a moment before she’s able to respond.
“M-me?” she squeaks out and then mentally scolds herself.
Of course he means you, dummy. He’s staring right at you. Get it together.
The giant shoots her another smirk. “Yeah, lil’ one. You.”
His words change something in her; suddenly she feels her whole body vibrating with anger and her hands clenching into fists at her sides.
How dare these men storm into her workplace and point guns in their faces? Demand to know where Gil’s safe is and then tease her about her height? This can’t be what Erdene had in mind, perhaps this isn’t the smartest time to make a stand for herself, but she’s ready to tell this big brute just where he can shove his fudging crowbar.
The words ball up in her throat and slide down her tongue, but before she can spit them out, she hears the timid voice of Jacob speak up and point them to Gil’s office door in the back of the building.
The giant snorts at Jacob and Poppy’s chest prickles with more heat. How can this man be so smug as to be amused at someone buckling when they have a gun pointed at them? Maybe the thug is used to this way of life, but they certainly aren’t.
He turns his head slightly and addresses his men over his shoulder. “You two stay out here.” As he speaks, Poppy’s eyes fall to the floor and trace the line of rope in the giant’s hands. She catches the flash of a horse outside the building, along with a couple other men. They’re securing the end of the rope to some sort of pulley contraption attached to the horse’s saddle.
“Oi, lil’ one,” he says and Poppy’s head snaps up to glare at him. “You’re comin’ with me.”
For… what? Collateral, so her coworkers don’t do anything stupid?
Out of the corner of her eye, Erdene’s grayed head moves. She casts her friend a quick look; Poppy’s never seen Erdene look so pale.
“Pops,” she mouths, the corners of her lips turned down in worry. Poppy offers her a small, reassuring smile, the best she can muster and then turns back to the giant. He takes a step to the side and gestures to the space in front of him.
“Lead the way,” he tells her.
She slides out of her cubicle and moves in the direction of Gil’s door. She sucks in a breath as she hears his heavy footfalls come up behind her; she hates not having eyes on him.
As they approach the shadowed corridor of her boss’ office, she hears the off-kilter whirring of Claire hovering in the air. She gazes up at the lumen as she passes under her and then claps both of her hands to her mouth as the giant’s head knocks into the lantern with a metallic clang.
“Fuck,” the giant barks out and Poppy has to bite her lip to contain the smug laugh rising in her throat. Serves you right, jerk.
Claire zips away and the giant continues to curse quietly under his breath, something about “goddamn flying tin cans.”
Once they’re inside her boss’s office, it’s immediately obvious that Gil has gone from the room, along with his laptop and Poppy’s brow furrows. Is he hiding somewhere? Surely he wouldn’t have left them to deal with this themselves…
The giant comes up behind her and peers over her shoulder. “Where’s ya boss?”
“I-I don’t know,” she says and then spins around to face him, unable to contain her anger or her questions any longer. “Why do you need him? Why are you doing this? We don’t keep any money in the office. Of all the saloons and banks in this city, you decide to rob us?”
He chuckles as he closes the door behind him and twists the lock. He drops the net of rope on the floor and steps over the tail where it snakes under the door.
“Not here for coin,” he tells her as he approaches the safe. “Fucker’s got something with my name on it. Been word that he keeps all his secrets in this safe.” He bends down to inspect it, the floorboards creaking beneath his large body.
After a moment, he peers back up at her. “You know the combination, lil’ one?” he asks calmly, as if he’s asking her favorite color.
Poppy fumes at the sound of his name for her, at his dry casualness over the situation. “Stop calling me that, y-you brute!”
The giant dares to smirk up at her and stands, wedging the crowbar into the seam of the safe door instead. “What about sweetheart?” he grunts as he attempts to pry it open. “Ya like sweetheart?”
“Not one bit!”
He huffs a laugh at her. “Pfft. Feisty, ain’t ya?”
As much as she wants to, she refrains from snapping back. He’s clearly enjoying getting a rise out of her and she doesn’t want to give him the satisfaction. Instead she stands quietly with her arms crossed over her chest.
After a moment more of trying the crowbar, the safe door still isn’t budging. The giant lets the tool clang to the floor and begins ransacking Gil’s desk instead, pulling out drawers and rifling through paperwork. In the middle of his search, he pauses and looks at her, his gold eyes sparkling.
“Your cheeks always get that big when yer mad?” he asks and then his eyes return to the mess in front of him.
His comment knocks something loose in her spine and she charges the desk, hands balled into fists, prepared to throw a punch.
“Listen, I don't know who you th-”
“Ya know, you remind me of these rodents I saw one time at a trading post down near Marquette,” he says as he dislodges another drawer. “Looked like mice with no tails and had big cheeks like ya. Man who had ‘em was weather worn, smelled like salt. Came all the way across the ocean with these lil’ animals in cages. Kinda like the one you got here.” He gestures with one hand at the room around them.
“Was tryin’ to sell them as pets. Shit, what did he call ‘em? Something like…”
“As charming as it is to be compared to a rodent, I’m not caged here,” Poppy huffs. “This is my job. It’s where I work.”
His eyes flick up to look at her. “Where you do someone else’s work for ‘em, you mean. Where they decide how much yer worth.”
“I understand the concept may be foreign to a heathen like you, but I’ve earned my way here. Gil gave me a chance and I-”
“Hamsters.”
She blinks at him. “I beg your pardon?”
“The lil’ rodents that look like you. Called them hamsters.” He sets the pile of papers down on the desk, seemingly resigning himself on finding the code that way. His golden eyes meet hers and she inhales; his stare is so intense.
“And I hate to break it to you, sweetheart,” he continues, “but Gil? He ain’t half the man he says he is.” His eyes leave hers to settle on the rolling artwork, now changed to a faraway coastline. “Didn’t you ever find it strange that your office has got all the bells and whistles others don’t? Yer not the only press in the city, but you’re bringin’ in money like you are.”
He looks at her again. “And I’m willin’ to bet you haven’t seen an extra cent added to your paychecks, have ya?”
Her brows knit together and she flicks her eyes down to the desk. She can’t look at him. Everything he’s saying is sending a chill rippling through her and it takes her only a second to realize that it’s because he’s right.
The influx of cash, the wave of technology that Gil was suddenly able to afford, even though their day to day operations hadn’t changed. How she, Erdene and Jacob had never personally seen the extra money themselves, save for the analog computers and lumens.
“That’s what I thought,” he says quietly and moves to stand at the corner of the desk. “Didn’t come by the money honestly. Told ya, the answer’s in that safe.”
After a moment, the giant lets out a sigh. “So where we at on that combination, lil’ one? Ya know it?”
His name for her pricks at her ears and it’s enough to make her lift her head and meet his eyes. He’s given her a lot to think about, gone so far as to make her suspicious of her employer, but the giant is still the bad guy in this particular scenario.
“Since you’ve stepped foot in this building, you’ve done nothing but threaten us, throw your weight around, accuse my boss of being a dishonest man-”
“Don’t remember threatenin’ anyone.”
“And insult me,” she continues. “Why on earth would I ever want to help a thug like you?”
He grins at her, flashing her the little crescent in his cheek. “‘Cuz ya can’t wait to get me outta your hair.”
Poppy sighs. The man has a point. She doesn’t know the combination, but she can try to help him. Anything to send him on his way.
“Yes, all right,” she says and turns to face the safe. “Anything to be rid of you. It might be his birthday. 11. 11. 75.”
The giant crosses the room and crouches down in front of the metal box. His thick fingers spin the wheel strategically, then he grips the handle and gives it a pull. It doesn’t open. He glances up at her.
“Not it. What else you got?” he asks.
“Um, it might be his wife’s,” she says. “04. 21. 74.”
“You know his wife’s birthday?” he asks as he begins turning the wheel again.
“We’re friends,” Poppy shrugs. “I’d hate to ever miss a friend’s birthday.”
"Hmm,” he hums and gives the handle another tug. It stays closed. “When’s yours?”
She squints down at him; he’s looking up at her. His face is serious and soft, almost warm, like he truly wants to know. It’s enough to make her feel compelled to answer.
“March 11th,” she tells him.
“Well,” he drawls, “happy belated, sweetheart.”
Poppy doesn’t say anything and he lifts an eyebrow at her. “Don’tcha wanna know mine?” he asks.
“No.”
His eyes glint with amusement. “No?”
“We’re not friends,” she tells him and crosses her arms back over her chest. “In fact, after this, I hope I never have to see you again.”
The giant chuckles at her. “Fair enough. For the record, wasn’t insultin’ you earlier.”
At this, Poppy barks out a laugh. He’s joking, right?
“Oooh, you weren’t? You could’ve fooled me. What would you call it then?”
“Flirtin’.”
Despite herself, Poppy can feel her cheeks heating and the feeling spreads to her chest. This huge, imposing, striking man was flirting with her?
She’s suddenly hyper aware of how closely she’s standing next to his crouched form; her skirts are brushing against his shoulder. She takes a step to the side, away from him.
“Any other ideas?” he asks, his fingers hooked around the combination wheel.
Before Poppy can answer, there’s a loud banging at the doorway. She startles and in an instant, Tora’s on his feet, eyes glued to the office door.
“Calvary already? Never known the sheriff to have a fire under her ass before.”
The shrill sound of a female voice that is distinctly not the sheriff’s penetrates the air. “Open this door! You lay just one of your brute fingers on her and I’ll thrash you! I’ll make one of your little street brawls look like a prayer meeting, do you hear me?”
The pounding on the door continues, as well as the rattling of the locked doorknob.
“I’m all right!” Poppy calls out. She’s not sure what’s going on in the lobby, but Poppy has to smirk at her friend’s gutsiness.
“Erdene,” she tells the giant. “You better pray she doesn’t make it through that door.”
He huff and rubs his chin. “Don’t pray, sweetheart. Smart man makes things happen for himself.”
“Well, it appears it’s working out well for you.” She tilts her head down at the safe that’s still very much locked.
“Huh. Yeah. Fuckin’ Ronzo and all his jobs,” he says, more to himself than to her. “He could break into this shit in half a second. Dunno why he picked up that shift at Chevy’s today of all days…”
The pounding on the door suddenly ceases; there’s the sound of grunting and Erdene shrieking, then a man crying out in pain.
The giant rolls his eyes. “Fuckin’ Pinky.” He lets out a sigh and rubs the back of his neck. “Damn it, runnin’ outta time. Didn’t wanna have to do it this way, but fuck it. Better get back, lil’ one.”
Poppy barely has a second to register his words before his big hands are circling her waist. She lets out an undignified squeak as he lifts her into the air and moves her. He does it so gracefully, without effort, as though her weight is of no consequence. He sets her down beside Gil’s desk and she backs into it, flustered and unsure of his next move.
The giant stoops to the floor and grabs the mess of thick rope. He tosses it over the safe, lifts one corner and then the other to tuck the net under the bottom.
He’s so strong, she realizes. Stronger than any other man she’s known. He’d picked both her and the safe up like they’d weighed nothing and yet, he was so gentle with her, his hands so big that they covered nearly the entire span of her waist. The thought makes her heart thump hard against her bodice.
She watches him stick two fingers in his mouth and then he lets out a shrill whistle. There’s an echoing whistle from the lobby and then the safe is lurching forward, pulled by an unseen force, breaking the door apart and sending splinters flying everywhere.
Poppy’s jaw drops. “You brute. You couldn’t have opened the door? You really had to damage our prop-”
Her words die in her throat as her vision is once again overwhelmed with black. She didn’t even see him move. He’s standing so close to her, all she can smell is sweat and leather and musk as she stares at his broad chest. It’s making her head swim.
“Kiss goodbye?” he says and her head shoots up to regard his face. He looks serious.
“Wha- you’re seriously asking me for a kiss?” she asks in a high pitched tone that she’s not altogether proud of.
His eyes crinkle with a smirk. “Not in the habit of taking things that don’t belong to me, sweetheart,” he rumbles.
Poppy’s eyes flick to what remains of her boss’ office door. “Oh no. Of course not.”
“Hmm. Told ya, he’s got somethin’ with my name on it. Didn’t wanna take the whole thing, but I’m outta time.” He takes another step toward her, until her nose is nearly buried in his shirt.
“S’that a no?” he rasps.
She says nothing, just continues to breathe heavily. She’s finding herself having difficulty thinking when he’s this close to her.
Poppy’s not sure if it’s adrenaline or her feistiness, but the pounding of her heart, the roaring of blood in her ears, the sudden heat creeping between her thighs certainly don’t feel like a no.
Live a little.
She lifts her head. Her eyes zero in on his lips and then her hands are curling around the collar of his shirt, dragging him down to her level.
Their mouths meet and it’s like nothing she’s felt in her whole life. To her surprise, his lips are soft, but unmoving. He’s frozen, not responding to her kiss. He really must not have thought she’d do it. She likes that, being able to take this giant bandit by surprise.
When he recovers, his lips are pressing hard against hers and his big hands find her hips, his fingers digging slightly and dimpling her flesh. Though he has a grip on her, he makes it clear she has complete control. His hands stay where they are and he doesn’t increase the pressure or speed of his lips on hers.
He opens his mouth to her, not probing but inviting. She gasps and then tentatively slides her tongue against his. She moans a little at the contact and she can feel his bottom lip twitching upward, almost like he’s smiling.
He tastes of tobacco, not something she thought she’d enjoy, but for some reason, she can’t get enough of the smoky heat of his mouth. It’s making her head spin, the same way it does when she’s had one too many glasses of her favorite sherry wine.
Suddenly she feels soft strands between her fingers and realizes that her hands are threading through his long, dark hair, pulling him closer. When did she even reach up?
He takes another bold step toward her and her bottom is pressing into the edge of her boss’s desk. The giant’s teeth close gently around her bottom lip and she’s thankful for the leverage of the desk; it nearly makes her knees buckle. His hips nudge slightly forward and she feels something hard graze against her hip bone. Maybe a weapon? And maybe… something else entirely.
Her mind buzzes with the idea that she could possibly have that effect on such a large, alluring man. Her. Plain old Poppylan Wilkes with thick, buttermilk thighs and cheeks like… well, whatever a hamster is, apparently.
Just when she’s thinking it wouldn’t be the worst part of her afternoon if he hitches her legs around his waist, the sound of a gunshot shatters the air. Their connection immediately breaks and their heads snap to the battered door. Poppy can hear Erdene shouting on the other side of it.
“Fuck,” he hisses and then looks down at her. “Gotta go, sweetheart.” Poppy’s left panting and swirling in confusion as he crosses the room; when he reaches the door frame, he gives her one long, last lingering look that she can’t quite read before ducking through it.
Once he’s out of her sight, Poppy’s senses return to her. She recovers quickly- she’ll unpack whatever the fudge she’s just done later- makes her way through the debris on the floor and darts into the lobby.
The room is a mess; chairs are overturned, desks are askew and piles of paper litter the floor. If she looks hard enough, she can easily follow the path the safe took on its way out the front door.
Jacob is tucked into a ball behind his own desk and Poppy’s heart seizes in her chest when she’s confronted with the sight of a body lying on the floor near her cubicle; it’s Gil, she quickly realizes. Gil, unconscious with a bloody hole in his shoulder and a silver pistol lying on the wood planks near his boots. Erdene is on her knees beside him in an instant and she splays her palms out over his wound.
The sound of the giant’s voice pulls Poppy’s gaze across the lobby.
“The fuck ya shoot him for?” he snaps at the man with the pink bandana. “Told you we weren’t coming here to hurt anyone. Christ, I ain’t him.”
“I’m- I’m sorry, Big Bro!” the pink man sputters. “He came outta nowhere, just charged out of that back door with his gun drawn! What was I supposed to do?”
“Shit,” the giant huffs. “Just… clear out, before Lane has a fuckin’ hay day with us.” Then he turns to Erdene. “Bullet came out of him,” he tells her and points to the wall behind them where there’s now a small hole embedded in the wood paneling. “Find somethin’ to cover the wound; don’t want dirt and shit getting in it before he makes it to the infirmary. And keep pressure on it.”
Poppy’s brows pull together. Why is he telling them this? Why does he… care?
Erdene, on the other hand, has the opposite reaction to the giant’s words. She rolls her eyes at him and says, “Yes, thank you so much, Mr. Good Samaritan. We wouldn’t have the faintest idea what to do if you weren’t here.”
The giant gives her a somber look and then turns his head to meet Poppy’s eyes; he opens his mouth slightly, like he’s about to say something. She waits.
Instead, his lips press together in a thin line and he turns to follow the pink man out the front door.
—
The sun is dipping below the horizon by the time Poppy and her coworkers have made their reports to the sheriff and her deputy. They’d arrived shortly after the bandit’s departure and as they stepped over the threshold of the office, Poppy couldn’t help but bitterly recall the gossip she’d heard from some of the street vendors.
“That Lane. Don’t know who elected her. If she’s putting one outlaw behind bars, she’s letting ten others go.”
The words sink in her stomach like stones as she answers the deputy’s questions; it’s likely the men who charged into her office will never be caught.
Once the sheriff’s department clears the scene, Poppy, Erdene and Jacob join Gil’s wife, Anna, at the infirmary. Anna tells them that the doctor confirmed the bullet went in and out, but he had to dig some debris from his shirt out of the wound.
Gil also lost quite a bit of blood, which led the doctor to suspect he might have hemophilia. Anna is currently waiting to sign paperwork to have him transferred to Narin City General, a hospital across the city where Jacob’s wife Megan works as a nurse.
Before Anna can say the words, Poppy already knows.
There’s no telling when Gil will be returning to Giant Pike Press.
—
The three leave the infirmary quietly, as though the day’s events have robbed them of the ability, the sheer energy to speak. A few more silent moments pass before Erdene shakes her head, the moonlight reflecting white on her disheveled hair.
“What a fucking day,” she mumbles and stretches her long arms above her head. “If I didn’t need a drink before, I need ten now. I’m gonna head home and change. Meet me at Chevy’s in an hour?”
On the other side of Erdene, Jacob nods in agreement. “Yeah, I'm in. Megan’s working the graveyard shift and frankly, I’d rather not sit alone in an empty house tonight.”
“Great. Pops?” Erdene lifts a brow at her.
“You seriously still want to go?” Poppy asks. While Jacob may not want to sit in silence at home, she’s looking forward to it. Watering her herbs, bathing quickly and falling into bed to forget this day ever happened, even if just for a few blissful hours.
“Hell yes, I do. Just not looking like this,” Erdene says and gestures to her blouse that’s still stained red with their boss’ blood. “You coming?”
Poppy sighs. “I don’t know. It’s been a long day.”
“Yeah. Exactly. You need it. We all do. Besides, it’s not like you have work to catch up on anymore, not when Gil is unconscious and bleeding out on a cot.”
Poppy and Jacob both frown at her and a grimace twists Erdene’s face. “Sorry,” she says. “That was a little harsh. I just don’t know what we’re supposed to do.”
Poppy doesn’t want to admit it- it’s so selfish- but the same thing has been on her mind. They all have ongoing projects with Gil; some he has to approve before they hit the press and some he’s still waiting to assign. None of them have access to the business bank accounts; she’s not even sure if he’d added his own wife as a secondary. As if she was going to ask Anna that question at her wounded husband’s bedside.
Gil was just so stubborn, secretive, she’d even go so far as to say possessive of his company. Any mention of bringing a partner into the business was always quickly dismissed and now here they were, forced into a desperate situation that could’ve been avoided if Gil had a second in command.
It also could’ve been avoided if he’d just come by his money honestly.
No matter how she’d tried, Poppy had been unable to shake the giant’s words loose from her mind. The irony certainly hadn’t been lost on her; a thug trying to break into a safe that didn’t belong to him, calling another man dishonest. If that wasn’t the pot calling the kettle black, she isn’t sure what is.
But something about his reasoning sounded so… sincere? Accurate, like he somehow knew the answers to the questions she hadn’t had the guts to ask out loud.
Poppy’s thoughts break as Erdene speaks up. “I hope whatever was in that safe was worth it to those assholes,” she grumbles out of the side of her mouth. “They’ve royally fucked us.”
At Erdene’s words, Poppy's chest tightens. Whatever was in that safe…
Her hairpin.
Oh God.
It was the only thing she had left of her mother’s and now it was in the hands of the brutes who’d shot her boss, who’d turned all of their lives completely upside down.
She’d kissed him. Had enjoyed it. Poppy blanches, the memory suddenly tasting sour on her tongue.
She has to get the hairpin back. But how? Narin City grew by the minute it seemed; if it was difficult for Sheriff Lane, whose job it was to apprehend criminals, then it would be impossible for her to track him down on her own.
In her interrogation with the deputy, she’d given them the best description of them that she could, leaving out that the giant tasted like smoke and it thrilled her, that his lips were wind-chapped but somehow still incredibly soft, tender as they moved against her own.
The deputy had seemed to recognize who she was referring to; apparently she and her coworkers were not the first to fall victim to his crimes. She’d certainly never crossed paths with him before; she would remember him and those eyes. Poppy had never seen eyes like his before. They seemed almost unreal.
And, even stranger than the color of his eyes, were two words that Poppy couldn’t shake from her mind. Before they’d left Giant Pike Press, she’d heard Lane murmur them to her deputy in passing.
The tiger.
What did it mean? What did some exotic beast have to do with an outlaw gangster? His alias, possibly? It wasn’t as though they’d exchanged pleasantries and names before he’d robbed them.
Poppy fumes silently as she continues to walk beside Erdene and Jacob. She can’t believe she’d allowed herself to get swept up in him, this tiger, in all his leather, smoke and… ugh. She’d gotten distracted, been too high on adrenaline and… other things to remember that her mother’s hairpin was inside the safe.
It’s value is unmatched to her, worth more than that giant man can possibly imagine. In reality, it might not amount to anything; it could very well be just a cheap piece of costume jewelry. But it’s hers.
And if it wasn’t cheap and times got harder than they already were, which seemed likely now that Gil was in the hospital, she might need to sell it to keep her head above water. It would wreck her, but what is she supposed to do if she can’t find another job?
Job.
What was it the bandit had said? When she, Erdene and Jacob reach the stop for the trolley, Poppy closes her eyes for a moment. She thinks hard, pushing the warm taste of tobacco into the recesses of her memory and trying to focus on his words just before.
Fuckin’ Ronzo and all his jobs. He could break into this shit in half a second. Dunno why he picked up that shift at Chevy’s today of all days…
Ronzo. Chevy’s.
She opens her eyes and interrupts Erdene and Jacob as they murmur back and forth.
“Can we make it an hour and a half?” Poppy asks.
“What’s that?” Erdene says, leaning over to look at her.
“Can we meet at Chevy’s in an hour and a half instead?”
Erdene beams at her. “You’re coming?!”
“Yes. There’s just something I have to do first.”