I gaped. Did he just really...?

"Duck," my dear, considerate husband advised.

KA-BOOM!

The explosion ripped off the entire building's façade, blowing its scattered remnants all over the street. Something jagged shot towards me, aiming straight for my face, and—

Strong arms wrapped around me. In a blink, I was on the ground, something heavy and hard pressing me down. Something familiar.

"I said," came the cold voice of Rikkard Ambrose from directly above me, "duck!"

Splinters and sparks peppered the barrel we were hiding behind. The moment they stopped coming, Mr Ambrose slung me over his shoulder and started racing down the street.

Darn! That's not how you sweep a girl off her feet!

But apparently my dear husband disagreed. And a moment later, it proved to be a wise move. We had hardly passed the smouldering remains of the house when the back door exploded outward and thundering footsteps came up behind us.

Bloody stinking hell! Those people are still after us? What are they?

A gunshot rang out over the street.

Very eager to kill us, apparently.

My feet hit the ground as Mr Ambrose sat me down less than gently.

"Run!" he bellowed, gesturing for me to go ahead. When I just kept running beside him instead, the bloody stubborn idiot actually slowed down, placing him between myself and the gunmen.

"What's the matter?" I ground out. "Did your bloody legs shrink?"

"No."

"Well, apparently your brain did! They're shooting at us!"

"Which is why I am between you and them, Mrs Ambrose."

I wanted to turn around and smack him for his goddamn chauvinism! But...

Bam!

Yep, maybe later.

Speeding up, we dashed towards the outskirts of the town, and hopefully, the horses.

"You are dead now, fools!" came a very annoying voice from over Mr Ambrose's shoulder. Someone seemed to have woken up. "You will all feel se wrath of—"

Wham!

"—my fist?" I completed, blowing on my aching knuckles and smiling at the once more silent Spaniard. "Yep, you will."

"There!" Speeding up his steps, Mr Ambrose pointed ahead. "Carriages!"

Sweet words of salvation! A part of me couldn't help but remark on how, just yesterday, I couldn't help but want to get out of that hellish vehicle as soon as possible—and now I was running back to it as if my life depended on it. Because it did!

Irony, you are a bitch!

Gathering my last bits of strength, I raced up to the carriage and tore open its door.

"Please." Inclining my head to Karim, I gestured to his load. "Garbage first."

A moment later, an unconscious Spaniard flew past me and landed in the carriage with a thud. Mr Ambrose, as always not one to waste time, promptly sent his own parcel flying after the first one.

Wham!

Suddenly, I felt very lucky to be British.

Another gunshot rang in the distance—but not nearly distant enough.

"Crap!"

I jumped as, with a splintering sound, the bullet slammed into the horse trough beside me. I didn't want to think about where it might have hit if it hadn't been pitch-dark.

"Inside!" With the gentleness and care behoving a freshly married husband, Mr Ambrose grabbed me and chucked me into the second carriage. The bloody son of a...!

I would get my revenge!

Bam!

Later. When we weren't being bloody shot at.

"Drive, Karim!" Vaulting into the coach behind me, Mr Ambrose slammed the door shut. "Drive!"

There came a thud from above us as the Mohammedan's solid backside slammed firmly onto the box. Barking a command at the horses, he cracked the whip, and then we were off, racing out of the town and into the land beyond. Behind us, the thundering of hooves told me that Mr Ambrose's remaining guards were hot on our heels. At least I hoped it was them. Because the alternative...

Bam!

Yep. That was the alternative.

Suddenly, I felt a surge of anger rising up inside me. This was my honeymoon, dammit! My bloody honeymoon! And now these bastards, these sons of bloody bachelors, were chasing after me, shooting at me!

Well...

A smile tugged at the corner of my mouth.

If someone is being so kind as to provide honeymoon entertainment, the least I can do is repay their generosity, right? Reaching into the folds of my skirt, I pulled out my trusty revolver. With a flick, I checked the cylinder. Six bullets. Excellent. Pulling down a case from the luggage rack, I lifted the lid. Six thousand six hundred bullets. Even better.

My smile widened. I knew it had been a good idea to go on honeymoon well-prepared.

Pulling down the window of the coach, I leaned out just enough to look back. And there, right behind us, silhouetted against the setting sun, I could see several distant riders catching up to us.

"Hello, my lovelies," I murmured. "Stay still and say cheese!"

***

"Stinking pile of snake shit!" Brass snarled, wiping the soot off his face with his massive paws. "Dynamite? Frigging dynamite? I thought those two were supposed to be some couple on honeymoon!"

"Interesting couple," Wolf remarked. His face didn't have a single trace of soot on it.

"Shut it, wolfboy! How the hell did you keep that smug face of yours in one piece, anyway? What were you doing?"

"Inspecting the back of the house for termites."

Brass's answer to that perfectly logical explanation was a string of curses.

"Settle down, you two!" Cobra ordered, voice cold, eyes intent on the horizon. "We've got a job to do!"

"Oh, I know." Brass cracked his knuckles. "Trust me, I know. The moment I get my hands on that bastard I'll—"

Bam!

Before he could get another word out, a bullet blew the hat from his head.

"Son of a...! I'm gonna gut that dirt bag!"

"Oh, that wasn't him," Wolf said, taking a casual puff from his cigarette. For some reason, he was suddenly riding at the back of the group, behind everyone else. "That was his lady wife, I believe."

"God damn frigging spawn of a...! I'm gonna kill that tramp! I'm gonna slaughter her! I'm gonna—"

Bam!

"Blrg! Gargh! Gk!"

He nearly choked on the dirt that sprayed up into his face from where the gunshot hit the ground barely three inches in front of his horse's hooves.

"Whatever you're gonna do, I'd suggest you hurry up," Wolf's voice came from behind him. "You might not get the chance, otherwise."

"Blargh! You...be glad you ain't within reach, wolfboy, or your face would already be smashed by my fists!"

"Shut the hell up the both of you, and keep your heads down!" Cobra hissed. "I'm trying to figure out what the hell is going on here! This shouldn't be happening!"

Bam! Bam!

"I bloody friggin' agree! But the lady doesn't seem to."

"Get out your damn guns and fire back! Get 'em!"

Brass was the first to comply. In the increasing darkness, it wasn't exactly easy to aim. But with a target as darn large as that coach, was aiming really necessary?

Brass sneered and pulled the trigger. "Die, bitch!"

The gunshot rang out in the night, and—

Ping!

"What the...? The bullet bounced off?"

"Seems like it."

"You mean...a steel-covered coach? Who the hell goes on their friggin' honeymoon in a steel-covered coach?"

"The two of them, apparently," Wolf commented, as he slowed his horse down, hanging back a little more.

"Spread out!" Cobra hissed, cutting off their bickering. "Don't ride so close together! Do you want to get your head shot off?"

"Please!" Brass snorted. "It's just some broad! I bet those two before were nothing but lucky shots! She won't be able to hit us in a—"

Bam!

"—son of a bitch!"

"No, that's your arm she hit," Wolf informed him, glancing at the bleeding graze the bullet had left on the Brass's arm. "Though I suppose it's part of a son of a bitch."

"Back, you idiots! Back, or do you want to be turned in to sieves?"

By now, apparently, it had sunk even into Brass's thick skull that continuing the pursuit of the "helpless honeymooners" might not be the best idea. Or the healthiest.

Bam! Bam! Badadadam! Bambambam!

"Holy...! How many shots were those? Do they have a frigging machine gun in there?"

"You can stay and find out, if you want! I'm outta here!"

"There!" Cobra jabbed his hand to the left, where he saw some vague shapes in the darkness. "Over to those bushes! We must reach cover!"

Bam! Babam bam bam!

"No shit!"

"Yee-ha! Yee-ha!"

Veering off course, they shot towards the clump of bushes to the left. The only problem was: someone else was shooting a lot faster.

Bam! Bam! Bambambam!

"Crazy ass bitch!" Brass cursed.

Bam went another gunshot—and hit his horse right in the arse. It reared up, hurling Brass off its back and into the dirt.

"Grrrrk! Argh!"

"Get him up!" Cobra snarled.

Wolf raised an eyebrow. "Do I have to?"

Cobra narrowed his eyes at him. Not that he stopped his horse to do it, though. "Do I have to remind you who the leader put in charge of this operation?"

With a grunt, Wolf brought around his horse and leapt to the ground. Nobody heard the muttered "And such a great job you're doing of it."

"Ow...gaawd!" Brass groaned. "I'm gonna kill that bitch! Kill! Kill! Ki—"

"Yeah, yeah. But how about you do that after we get out of range?"

Bam! Bam! Bambambambambambambambambambambam!

"Goddamn frigging pile of shit! Is that whole carriage stuffed with bullets?"

"You wanna stop and ask 'em? Run, you idiot! Run!"

And run they did. They ran like rabbits with bloodthirsty wolves on their heels. Or, in one case, a Wolf with bloodthirsty rabbits on his heels. Behind them, dust exploded into the air as bullet after bullet hit the dry dirt. Spitting out a curse, Brass hurled himself behind the bushes. Wolf followed, leaping behind the thick, thorny branches just in time to avoid the last bullet that ricocheted off a rock behind him. Together, they collapsed on the ground, panting. It took Brass a moment or two to notice the expression on Wolf's normally gruff and deadpan face.

"Why the hell are you grinning, you fool?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Wolf's wolfish grin widened. "You just got your ass kicked by a woman."

"You did too, wolfboy!"

"Yeah, but I got no self-esteem issues."

Before Brass got the chance to add one more murder to his long rap sheet, Cobra appeared behind the clump of bushes, peering down at them from atop his high horse.

"Busy behind the bushes, you two?"

"You...!" Brass leapt to his feet, his eyes sparking with murderlust as he stared at the smirking Cobra. "I'm gonna rip you a new one! 'Just two honeymooners', you said! 'This job will be a cinch', you said!"

"That's what the leader said," Cobra shot back. But his snake eyes weren't even looking at Brass. Instead, they were staring off in the distance, after the carriage. "You're welcome to take the matter up with him."

Brass shut his mouth immediately.

"And speaking of the leader..."

Cobra's eyes flicked away from the coach disappearing into the distance, and he twisted around in the saddle of his horse. The other two instinctively followed his gaze, their eyes landing on several riders approaching rapidly from the direction of the town. Soon they were close enough to make out their faces in the dim moonlight. At the very front rode Creed, a faint smile on his angelic face. Right behind him came Diego, leisurely twirling a revolver in his right hand and a singed judge's gavel in the left.

"Everything went well, then?" Cobra enquired, raising an eyebrow at the gavel.

"You might say that." Creed's faint smile widened just slightly. "The judge was quite cooperative."

"Especially once we put a bullet in his head," Diego added cheerfully.

"What about on your end?" Creed enquired. "Where are the man and the woman?"

He was answered by nothing but silence.

"I said where are the man and the woman?"

Again, nothing but silence. In the distance, a coyote howled.

Creed's sky-blue eyes sparkled, his smile widening even so slightly. "This is the last time I'll ask. Where. Are. The. Man. And. The. Woman? You...you do have them, don't you?"

Brass looked distinctly uncomfortable. Wolf somehow had retreated to the back again, where he was being busy polishing his knife, while Cobra had melded with the shadows.

"Well?" Creed's hand fell on the butt of his revolver. His eyes effortlessly zeroed in on where Cobra hid in the darkness. "Speak!"

Reluctantly, the slit-eyed man emerged from the shadows.

"Well, leader...it is like this..."

And he started to recount the events of the night. When he was finally done, silence once more descended over the empty landscape.

"Hm..." Creed stroked his chin, thoughtfully.

"What now, boss?" Brass asked.

"What do you think?" Sarge snorted. "After what you just told us? An armoured vehicle? Gunslinging brides? Seems like our intel was a bit lacking."

"This," Cobra said, thoughtfully, "isn't going to be as easy as we thought."

Everyone's eyes flicked towards their boss.

"Don't worry." Once again, Creed smiled. Somewhere in the darkness, a hungry coyote who had been sneaking closer, shivered, turned tail and ran away. "I have a plan."

----------------------------------

I am still languishing on my sickbed ;( But Mr Ambrose would be sorely disappointed in me if I stopped working just because of a measly little sickness. I hope you are faring better than me, my dear Lords, Ladies and Gentlemen.