There was a bag over Lacey’s head and zip ties around her wrists. A metal wall pressed against her spine. Her overalls did nothing to protect her ass from the floor’s chill. At this rate, it was just going to freeze off, and there was nothing she could do about it.

On the upside, Rivet and Wrench were still with her. She could feel the heat of their bodies on either side. Every so often, the boat lurched hard enough that she knocked into one of them. She tried to be annoyed, but it didn’t work. Lacey was embarrassingly ready to accept the reassurance that she wasn’t alone.

She and the siblings had just finished hiding the canoes when Wrench noticed the little black boat edging closer. Lacey had taken a step toward her and reached forward, like her body knew what was going to happen before her mind could catch up.

The first gunshot had rung out. Wrench had stumbled soundlessly backward. Rivet had knelt in front of her and whipped out a gun Lacey didn’t even know they were carrying. Gunfire had filled Lacey’s ears as she ducked for cover.

The enemy boat had circled the Swill Torpedo twice before coming to a stop. Rivet had stopped to reload, and while their gun was down, three figures had jumped onto the deck. Lacey had jumped up, fists swinging, and was met with a pistol-whip to the mouth. She wasn’t sure what had happened immediately after that. All she knew was that she awoke to find herself being dragged onto the little black boat and shoved onto the floor. Rivet followed. They didn’t come nearly as quietly, all flailing fists and guttural screams. They only stopped when one of the kidnappers cocked a pistol and said, “Keep doing that and blondie gets it.” Rivet had immediately gone limp.

Wrench came last, pale as the tourniquet around her thigh. Rivet had crawled toward her and cradled her head in their lap with a moan. Then their captors had pulled the bag over Lacey’s head, and she had nearly blacked out from the pain of the material scraping her bleeding jaw.

Another jolt. Lacey’s shoulder collided with the soft solidity of Rivet to her left. The boat was slowing down, she realized. They just had to do it in increments. Electric motors were rare in this industry, known for both their silence and their weakness. They let you sneak, sure, but they were relatively useless for hauling cargo. That, and they were expensive as hell. Whoever their kidnappers were, they had to be either very rich or very lucky.

Eventually, the little boat came to a stop. Hands grasped Lacey’s shoulders and pulled her to her feet. She was shoved forward, feet knocking into each other, and lifted onto solid ground.

“Walk,” someone commanded.

Lacey walked.

They passed through a door and into what Lacey assumed was a hallway. Then there were stairs, then another hallway, then another door, and then someone kicked Lacey’s knees out from under her. Her hands flew up to protect her face. Though the lower half was sheltered, her forehead still knocked into the ground. The impact rattled her jaw, and she couldn’t hold back a whimper. God, she sounded pathetic. Lacey’s whole body trembled with helpless rage.

Someone pulled the bag off her head. Lacey rolled onto her back just in time to see a door close. She sat up, awkwardly trying to support herself with her bound hands.

Next to her, Rivet had already stood and was bull-rushing the door. Their shoulder slammed into the metal hard enough that the hinges squealed. “Bastards!” they screamed. They backed up for another attempt.

There wasn’t much room to work with, though. This room was probably meant to be a utility closet, judging by its side and the number of shelves built into the walls. Dusty strip lights on the ceiling tinted everything grayish-blue with their glow. Lacey wondered why their captors would waste all that energy on a couple prisoners.

Rivet launched themself into the door again. The sound made Lacey wince in sympathy.

She stood awkwardly. “Rivet, stop!” The effort of speaking sent bolts of pain through her jaw.

Rivet didn’t spare her a glance. “They have Wrench,” they said through gritted teeth, and slammed into the door a third time.

“This won’t get her back.” Lacey tried to wedge herself in front of Rivet. “Listen to me. Listen. Hold still.” Rivet did not hold still. “Please?”

Something in her tone must have caught their attention. Rivet paused, eyes manic.

“She had a tourniquet,” Lacey said. She spoke as concisely as possible to minimize the pain. “They don’t want her dead. They’ll come back for us. No more of this.” She gestured toward the bruise forming on Rivet’s shoulder.

Rivet considered her words for a second before sliding to the floor, defeated. They stared at nothing in particular.

Thank fucking God, Lacey thought. She didn’t know what she would do if Rivet actually hurt themself.

Kneeling with bound hands wasn’t easy, but Lacey managed. She knelt next to Rivet and nudged them with her elbow. No response. “We’re gonna get out.”

Rivet closed their eyes. “You’re a terrible liar.”

Lacey chuckled weakly.

“God." Rivet bit their lip. "We’re fucked, huh?”

Lacey shrugged.

“I didn’t even think there would be jackers out here. No one fucking lives here.” Rivet rubbed their face.

“None of us did,” Lacey said. By the end of the sentence, she could taste blood under her tongue. Time to be quiet.

Luckily, Rivet didn’t respond. They let their chin fall onto their knees and closed their eyes.

She sat next to Rivet with her back against the wall. Might as well close her eyes, too, just to see how it felt. The light glowed from behind her eyelids, turning everything red and hazy. So that was why they left the lights on: to make it hard to sleep.

She would have tried anyway, but not under these circumstances. Rivet definitely wouldn’t sleep, and Lacey didn’t want them to feel alone.

#

When their captors returned, the only thing Lacey could think about was how bad she had to pee.

Rivet apparently had other things on their mind. When the door opened, they leapt to their feet and ran blindly forward, bellowing curses.

It took a while, but the three jackers who’d come for them managed to subdue Rivet eventually. Bags went over both prisoners’ heads. Lacey let herself be pulled to her feet and marched along. She knew she should be worried, but she was just too tired. It didn’t matter where they were taken, so long as there was a bathroom.

Eventually, they stopped. Lacey anticipated the kick in time to avoid having her legs knocked out from under her. It definitely still hurt. She knelt as gracefully as possible and tried not to wince when the bag was pulled off her head.

This room was bigger than the last one. Better lit, too. It was all metal and concrete and harsh lines. Probably some kind of industrial area, or maybe a storage facility.

Twenty-ish feet in front of her, a long metal table bisected the room. A jacker stood at each end, clearly trying to look threatening. In the middle, a woman sat cross-legged with one arm wrapped around a slumped, pale figure whose dirty blonde hair hung limply over her face.

“Wrench!” Rivet tried to stand up, but the three jackers kept them on the floor.

Wrench lifted her head. The action clearly took effort. Her skin was pale and bluish — or maybe that was just the light — and her mouth was tight with pain, but her eyes looked as alert as ever. Lacey felt a glow of pride.

“Please at least try to be civil,” said the woman next to Wrench.

Rivet hawked up a glob of phlegm and launched it toward her like a weapon.

The woman stared calmly back, eyes glimmering out from a nest of wrinkles. She wore her hair in a coily gray crew cut. Unlike the jackers, the woman’s clothes were simple and clean. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what role this woman fulfilled, even if they didn’t know exactly who she was.

“Fuck civility,” Rivet said. “You shot my sister.”

“You stole from me,” the woman pointed out.

Rivet started to protest. The woman cut them off with a quick gesture. “Whatever excuse you’ve got, I don’t care. What I do care about is how you managed that.” She leaned forward, bony elbows resting on her knees. Wrench winced at the sudden lack of support. “You three seriously lifted fuel out of a dead spot with fucking kayaks.”

“Outriggers,” Lacey muttered automatically.

The woman heard. She tilted her head and looked at Lacey thoughtfully. “Do I know you?”

“Probably not,” Lacey said.

“She’s not important,” Rivet said quickly. “Real nobody. Just some newbie we picked up. My sister and I are the ones who actually have experience. This job was my idea, though, so…”

The woman blinked slowly. Rivet trailed off, licking their lips and shifting with anxiety.

The woman returned her focus to Lacey. She rubbed her temple, then paused as her eyes widened with recognition. “You’re the girl from Portland, aren’t you? With the team, the kids who do…what did you call them?”

“Outriggers.” Lacey’s mouth felt very dry and very bloody.

“Right.” The woman smirked. “I’d ask what you’re doing here, but given how hard your friend with the shitty tattoos is trying to make you out to be the good guy, well. I think it’s pretty obvious.”

Lacey almost said something, but stopped herself just in time. As explanations went, this one was believable enough, and it wouldn’t put her or the siblings in danger. Much better than the truth. Might as well go along with it.

If Rivet wanted to argue, they didn’t have time. The woman continued: “So you’ve teamed up with your…consort? And you’re stealing fuel with outriggers.”

“It’s easier,” Lacey said. “Cheaper. Quieter.”

“But you get less fuel,” the woman countered.

Lacey shrugged. “Rivet and Wrench are smart. They'll fix it.”

“You sound awfully confident for someone in your position.” The woman’s icy stare bore into Lacey.

Fuck. She’d hoped the woman wouldn’t question her use of the present tense. The pain in her jaw was making it hard to think.

“We’re alive,” Lacey said. “Either you try and torture us, or you’ll cut us a deal. Both ways, we live.”

The woman rocked backward. “I like your confidence.”

"I’ve got the best on my side.”

Rivet rolled their eyes so far back, Lacey was sure they’d get stuck.

“You are wrong, though,” the woman said. “I don’t do torture. I avoid violence when I can.”

“You literally shot my sister,” said Rivet.

“You literally trespassed. Come on, now. We even saved her life.” She pointed to the bandage around Wrench’s thigh. “I won’t torture you. I will politely ask you to tell me who your broker is so that I can negotiate an exchange.”

Not bad. Lacey respected the woman’s opportunism. She wondered who she could possibly name that would be believable enough to give them time to escape.

“We don’t have a broker,” Wrench slurred.

Lacey and the woman both blinked in surprise.

“It’s true,” Rivet said. “We’re looking for a new one right now.”

The woman snorted. “What did you do?”

“We didn’t do shit,” Rivet snapped. “We got dropped for no reason because the shithead was being a shithead.”

“Which shithead specifically?” the woman pressed. “Is he local?”

Rivet pursed their lips. “Ronan,” they said. “In downtown Portland.”

Lacey’s brow furrowed. “Ronan?” she echoed. He had a good reputation. Bristly, sure, but a good person. She couldn’t picture him leaving a couple of teenagers on their own, even if they did annoy him. More importantly, she couldn’t understand why Rivet had been so reluctant to tell her. She and Ronan hadn’t been exceptionally close. This was a surprise, but not exactly earth-shattering.

“Is this news to you?” The woman glanced between Lacey and Rivet. “Oh, dear. A lover’s quarrel.”

“No,” Lacey said quickly. Her gums were starting to bleed again. That was fun.

“Ronan sent out word that no one should hire us,” Rivet said. They wouldn’t look at Lacey. “He told every other broker in the city that we stole from him and that we were trying to take him out so we could have his job.”

“Lies, I assume?” the woman said. She couldn’t have been more sarcastic if she tried.

“Yes,” Rivet snapped. “Total bullshit.”

The woman waved them off. “So, assuming you’re telling the truth, you three are brokerless, hiding out upriver because you’re hoping that your stupid little boats are somehow going to make you marketable?”

Rivet’s brash expression didn’t change. “Yeah, pretty much.”

“Looks like you’re up the stream without a paddle.” The woman snickered at her own joke. Rivet and Lacey watched without amusement.

Finally, she stopped laughing to consider them for a long moment. “Well, looks like it’s your lucky day.” The woman hopped off the table. She gestured toward the jacker behind Lacey. A knife slid under the zip tie around her wrists and pressed hard enough to snap the plastic. Lacey flexed her fingers to get the blood flowing again. The jacker moved on to Rivet while the woman continued talking.

“I’m looking for more people,” she said. “You definitely still stole from me, but I’ll be honest: you three and your outriggers make me curious.” She stopped in front of Lacey, hands on her hips.

Lacey met her eye with what she hoped was courage. “What makes you think we’ll join you?”

The woman smirked. “What the fuck else are you going to do? Go crawling back to a city that’s already signed your death warrant?”

Fair point. Lacey nodded in concession.

“My name’s Norba,” the woman said. “Welcome aboard.”