Acrackthundered through the night.
Bollocks!
Instinctively, he threw himself over Amelia as the bullet slammed into the wall above them. Fragments of brick tumbled over their shoulders. Pressing her against the side of the porch, he heard her gasp, felt her voluminous skirts fan out beneath her.
“Good heavens!” she cried out. “You’ll be hit!”
The notes of anguish and fear in her voice stunned him. Her concern had not been for herself. But for him.
Thatwas a bloody first.
“I’ll hold him off.” He unholstered the revolver he’d worn beneath his coat. “Go inside. Lock the door behind ye.”
Another shot rang out.
The slug splintered a wooden sign. Its remnants dangled over the window, an arm’s length from their heads.
Bugger it.Was the bastard in the shadows that damned poor a marksman? Or did he only intend to send a message?
Amelia’s key scraped against the lock. Her body tensed against him, and he felt the uneven cadence of her breaths. Finally, the hinges squawked a protest, the door creaked open, and she darted inside.
“Bolt the door,” he told her, training his attention on the gunman.
“But you—” Concern colored her low tones.
“I know what I’m doing,” he ground out. Bloody hell, he hoped he was right. “Do not open this door until ye hear the sound of my voice.”
She gave a reluctant nod. The hinges squeaked again, and he heard the lock fall into place.
Crouching low, he scanned the street. The gas lamp cast hazy shadows against the buildings on either side of the road.
No sign of the shooter.
Out of the darkness, a cat darted over the cobbles.
Gaslight from the lamp at the corner beamed dimly through the fog. In the darkness beyond Logan’s line of sight, boot heels thudded against the pavement.
Heading to the alley.
Running away.
Blasted coward.
Logan followed the frantic beat of the assailant’s footfalls. The bastard seemed to blend into the darkness, but the pounding against the pavement guided Logan through the thick mist.
He moved toward the alley, weapon at the ready. “Come out, ye bloody coward.”
He couldn’t see the gunman.
Couldn’t take a shot.
Within the shadows, metal clattered against stone. He spotted a refuse can tipped on its side. Had the gunman toppled it in his rush to flee?
Senses on alert, Logan continued his pursuit. In the distance, horses whinnied. Carriage wheels rumbled over the street. Reaching the end of the alley, he spotted an elegant coach racing into the night.
Bugger it.
The gunman had escaped.
