Jack rounded on the small man and aimed his pistol at the stranger’s chest. The man was short, his face dark and weathered. He was obviously a former sailor.
“Don’t shoot me, gov.” “I can’t ’elp you if I’m dead.”
“Who are you?”
“Work for ’is Grace, I do. Looks like you got a quarrel with ’im.”
“Do you know where he is?”
The man shrugged. “I might. Wot’s it to me? Maybe I don’t know. Maybe I don’t rightly remember.”
Jack reached into his pocket and withdrew a handful of coins. “How’s this for incentive?”
The man stuck his grubby hand out. “Me memory just improved.”
MADDIE WAS RUNNING out of options. She didn’t believe Bleven would shoot her, but she’d backed herself up against the wall, and he was coming closer. Her hand hovered near the opening to her dress pocket, but she didn’t dare grab the letter opener yet.
Bleven closed the distance between them until she could see the bead of sweat on his temple. He was too close. She scooted to one side, then heard a scraping sound.
Jack?
She glanced toward the door to the warehouse, and when she took her eyes off Bleven, he pounced. He slammed into her, one hand grabbing her around the throat and thrusting her back hard against the wall. Her head thudded on the wood and she tasted blood.
Bleven’s hand tightened on her neck, and she was forced to gasp for air. Forgetting the letter opener, she clawed at his hand and struggled for breath. She was able to loosen one of his fingers, but then he pocketed the gun and his other hand came up.
His face was close, the small teeth bared in an expression halfway between a smile and a grimace. Maddie wheezed as black dots flitted across her vision. Her feet were sliding out from under her, and she struggled to keep her footing. She dropped her hand, fumbling in her skirts for the letter opener.
“Let . . . go,” she managed to hiss, but his hands closed harder, and the room began to dim. She kicked at him, tore at his fingers with one hand while her other closed on the warm metal hidden in her skirts.
She struggled for one last breath, even the smallest particle of air to keep her going.
But blackness descended and her grip relaxed.
JACK KNEW HE WAS RUNNING out of time. If what the compact sailor had told him was correct, Bleven’s other warehouse was clear across town. He didn’t know if he’d make it in time.
And if the sailor was wrong . . . He did not want to even think about that.
He rode through the back streets, hoping to avoid the traffic and make quicker time. The wind whipped around him, making a screaming sound in his ears.
Or perhaps the screaming was within him.
He pushed his horse faster and harder, and finally turned into a lane leading toward a row of ramshackle warehouses. At the far end, Jack caught sight of two men. They loitered outside a warehouse, one with his ear pressed to the wooden door.
Jack’s breath came quicker; the screaming in his head muted.
He’d found her.
MADDIE WAS JARRED BACK to her senses as she fell on the mattress. It was thin and did little to cushion the hard floor beneath.
Above her, Bleven was yanking his cravat loose. The white linen fell down his chest like a snowy bird.
She took a shaky breath. Blinking, she tried to dispel the black dots still floating before her eyes. “I’ve been looking forward to this,” Bleven said, unbuttoning his collar. “I’ve been waiting to put my hands on you, to see Jack Martingale’s face when he realizes what I’ve done to you.”
Maddie swallowed. Her throat was too raw to allow her to speak, and she knew it would be a wasted effort anyway.
“The Martingale family has insulted me for the last time. First the mother . . . ” Bleven paused. “Did your husband tell you what I had done to his mother?”
Maddie’s hand was still in her pocket, and at his words, she closed her fist around the handle of the letter opener. It was Bleven? He had been responsible for the death of Jack’s mother?
