The brute holding Elle captive reached around to shove the rest of the rag into her mouth and then clamped his hand over her lips.
Gatlong chuckled. “Jones was right. She is the one he saw with you when you left Seahorn. I wasn’t convinced, but I can see it in your eyes, boy. She’s the one and you just lost all leverage.” He leaned back against the hazard table and poked the sharp point of his pick hand into the felt-lined tabletop next to him. “Now give me the box.”
Rune shook his head, his glare ripping off of Elle and going to Gatlong. “You’ll never get it.”
“Fine.” He lifted his pick hand into the air. “Then you won’t mind if I carve up Lady Raplan in front of you. I never did care for her as a sister-in-law.”
A gurgled scream came from Elle and she squirmed, kicked, trying to get free.
Rune refused to look at Elle.
Any weakness at this point was going to make Gatlong move toward him—or worse, Elle—and he needed the bastard back for the moment. He also couldn’t move toward Elle for fear the thug on the opposite side of the room would fire his pistol in her direction. Chancing a rogue bullet hitting her wasn’t an option.
He stared down Gatlong. “I’m not going to tell you.”
“No?”
“No.”
The sneer on Gatlong’s face widened. “You’ll break, boy—you’ll break the second I tear into her.”
Lifting up the skewer that was now his hand, he moved toward Elle. Her screams muffled by the rag, she struggled harder, a wildcat against the brute holding onto her.
Fury like he’d never known surged through his muscles.
He was going to save her, downing one savage after another, or he would die trying. Either way Elle would be safe. With him dead, there’d be no reason to hurt her.
Time to get on with it.
{ Chapter 23 }
Just as Rune’s legs bent, coiled to leap at the brute on the far right with a pistol still aimed directly at him, the door behind him flung open and a wall of muscle crowded onto his back.
Hell.
He was good. But he wasn’t that good.
He forced himself not to look at Elle. Not leave her with an image of defeat in his eyes. Death was upon him and the best he could do was to make this as quick and as painless as he could for her to have to witness.
But then Gatlong froze in front of him, his lifeless blue eyes going wide.
“Hello, father-in-law.”
Rune glanced over his shoulder.
Des and Weston.
How in the bloody hell did they find him?
And why in the bloody hell did he even care how they had? His odds had just reversed, falling fully into his favor.
Before anyone could react, Rune leapt forward to the right with full rage, turning sideways as he did and the pistol pointed at him fired, the crack of it blasting through the room.
The bullet missed him and he slammed into the thug, sending the man crashing back against the wall. His blade already pulled, he slit the throat of the brute before the man landed on the ground.
Rune spun around to see Des and Weston had already moved in with him at the five guards. Blades flashing. Another gunshot.
Hell.
Gunshots.
He found Elle through the mayhem.
Her head had rolled back, her body limp in the arms of her captor.
A third gunshot.
Wes rushed past Elle to take on the two men that had just barreled into the room from the side door. A man fell at Des’s feet.
That left four for him and Des to take care of. Gatlong would be last. And his.
Rune swung a blade at the next thug closest to him, a short barrel of a man that charged at him with a dagger high. Rune blocked the steel with his own blade and ripped one of his pistols free from his coat, discharging it as the man started to swing again. Rune still had to duck, the blade slicing him across his temple as the man crashed to the floor.
He found Elle’s face again. Her eyes were open. Open and wild.
To the right of her, Des had downed one thug and had already turned to the next and Weston had disappeared into the adjoining room with the two that had charged in. Rune surged toward the man that still held Elle—the sniveling lout using her as a shield in front of him. A sidestep to throw him off-balance and Rune was beside him, tearing his arms away from Elle. She stumbled free and Rune punched his face, pummeled him until the man dropped. Down to the floor and still Rune’s fists met the thug’s face. Blood flew from his knuckles, but he saw nothing but blinding crimson in front of his eyes—a raging red that had taken over his body.
No one touched Elle. No one.
A shriek—ungodly and visceral—shattered into the room and pulled Rune from his daze of fury.
Her wrists free from the twine, Elle had gotten her hands on a dagger and was swinging it at Gatlong, possessed, uncontrolled fury with every swing.
Gatlong blocked two of her blows with his steel pick, but her third swing cut straight into his forearm. Another three swings and blood flew off of Gatlong, his weight swinging him back and forth as his feet scattered on the floor trying to escape her.
The steel pick swung dangerously close to her head and Rune lunged toward her, grabbing her about the waist. He yanked her back just before her blade came down at Gatlong’s heart.
Two more stumbled steps backward and Gatlong caught his balance. His stare found Rune. “Should have let her kill me, boy.” His left hand reached into his coat and he yanked free a pistol, aiming it at Elle.
Flinging her to the side, Rune lurched forward, his leg high as he kicked Gatlong square in the middle of his meaty chest.
The mass of Gatlong’s weight veered backward, unstoppable even as his feet flailed fast on the floor. His arms swinging, the pistol flew out of his hand as he crashed through the window, falling out into the blackness of the night.
Rune rushed to the shattered edges of the window. In the shadows of the alley, Gatlong splayed dead on the ground below.
He spun around only to find Elle had scampered to her feet after being tossed, still screeching with the knife in her hand, and now attacking Des. No recognition of anything or anywhere in her eyes.
Des managed to grab each of her wrists, holding them high as she fought him, kicking, jabbing the dagger into his arm.
Rune was to her in an instant, clamping the back of her body to his, fighting her wild arms down until they were flat against her sides. Des let go of her wrists and Rune locked her into a hold, dragging her backward so her feet weren’t under her and he just barely avoided Wes as he finished off the last thug.
Fighting, kicking, the shrieks of a harpy were at her lips.
“Stop, Elle—you’re safe. Safe.” Rune’s words didn’t slow her struggle, didn’t stop her howls. The tip of the blade still solid in her hand jabbed into Rune’s leg.
“Shit.” He shifted her in his arms and the blade pulled out of his leg. He looked to Des, yelling over Elle’s screams. “What’s going on? How do I stop this?”
Des shook his head, bellowing back to Rune. “The time Jules found her like this—she said she came out of it right away when Jules screamed at her.”
“But Jules isn’t here, man.”
Elle erupted in a spasm, almost breaking free of Rune’s grip.
Des set himself in front of her and grabbed her face. “Elle—wake up. Wake up!” He screamed.
She shifted, driving the knife back into Rune’s thigh. He ignored the searing pain, picking her up and setting his mouth at her ear. “Elle—wake up. This isn’t you. It’s Rune—I’ve got you. Des is right here. Wake the hell up.”
Des moved in and tried to grab her hand to get the knife. He looked up at Rune. “I can’t get the knife out of her hand or you without hurting her.”
Des looked back into her face, shouting, “Elle—wake up—get back to us.”
The blade twisted in Rune’s leg and he grimaced, fighting the searing pain. “De
s—get me a pistol.”
Without pause, Des pulled a primed pistol from the band about his waist and handed it to Rune.
Setting it right next to her ear, Rune aimed it at the outer wall and shot it.
The crack of the shot made her jerk, then still.
Silence.
Rune handed the pistol back to Des.
She shifted in his arms, her head rolling in a circle, and then she looked down. A scream shook her, so high pitched it made his head jerk back.
Her hand instantly left the handle of the blade and she started pushing at his arms. Rune let her go and she scrambled away from him, turning, her eyes on the blade sticking out of his thigh.
Her look lifted to his face, her voice frantic. “Rune? Oh no—no, no, no, Des. I did that? Did I do that?”
With a grimace setting his mouth hard, Rune yanked the blade from his thigh and he threw it to the ground. “You weren’t in your right mind, Elle.”
“Not in my right—” She looked down at her hands and the blood splattered all over her skin. “Gatlong…Gatlong…Gatlong grabbed me…” Her head whipped around the room at the bodies littering the floor.
“Oh no. Did I—did I kill that man?” Her eyes wide, her head flung back and forth. “The shot, then another and then, hell, Rune—did I kill him?” Her finger flung to the ground at the brute with a sliced neck. “Or him? Or him?” She spun in a circle, pointing at the bodies.
His hands up, fingers spread wide, he moved closer to her, his words low and calm, praying he didn’t set her off again. “No—no—no. That’s Gatlong’s blood on your hands.”
Her jaw dropped, quivering. “Oh hell, did I kill Gatlong?” She started to frantically dart about, searching the bodies, her voice pitching high. “Oh to hell, I did. I killed him. Where is he? I killed him.”
Rune grabbed her shoulders, slightly shaking her to get her to look at him. “Stop, Elle, stop. You didn’t kill anyone. Stop your body. Stop your mind.”
The first glimmer of sanity flashed in her eyes in her next blink. But she still fought him, refusing to look at him, only looking at the inert bodies about the room.
“Stop your mind. Stop your body, Elle.” He dragged her closer to him. “Look at me. Only me. Look at me. You’re safe. You didn’t kill anyone. We did that. Des and Weston and me. We did that. Not you.”
Her head quivered and she looked to her right, finding Des. “Des.”
“Stay with us, Elle,” Des said, his voice uncannily even for a man that had just sliced throats.
She blinked, her gaze unfocused as it went back to Rune. “I’m safe?”
He nodded, his stare locked in hers. “You’re safe. You just need to be still and stay with us. We’re getting out of here.”
She nodded.
Rune wrapped her in his arms, tucking her along his side as he followed Des out the door. Weston stepped in line behind them, always protecting the back.
Good men, the both of them. They always had been.
Exiting the stairwell into the main drinking room of the Den of Diablo, Hoppler intercepted them.
Des instantly pulled a blade, ready to fight their way out of the room.
Rune grabbed his forearm before damage could be done. “Not necessary, Des. Hoppler has no quarrel with us.”
Des looked back at Rune, his hand still gripping his blade at the ready and disbelief in his hazel eyes. Des had always been too cautious. Des had also saved his life so many times he’d lost count. Tonight would just be added to the list.
Rune’s look swung to Hoppler. “We’re taking the box.”
“Take it.” Hoppler shrugged. “I don’t need it—I build my own empire. Plus, you just removed one nagging detail I needed to get out of my life.”
Rune flicked his head backward. “You already saw Gatlong out in the alley?”
“I did. His body is dropping into the Thames at this very moment.”
Rune inclined his head to him. “Where is the box?”
Hoppler nodded with his head to the end of the bar balancing three kegs atop.
Rune spotted the box, stuck between two of the big barrels and his gaze swung to Hoppler. “You left it out in the open?”
Hoppler’s hands flew up. “It’s where you left it. I wasn’t about to touch the blasted thing. ”
Rune looked to Des. “Des, can you grab it?”
Des nodded, going to the bar and grabbing the box, then sinking it into an inner pocket of his coat. He still hadn’t sheathed his dagger.
Rune’s gaze swung back to Hoppler. “We’re even?”
Hoppler’s head cocked to the side. “For now.”
That was all he’d ever get out of Hoppler. It was enough.
Pressing Elle even harder into his side, Rune started to walk past the tables scattered in the large room, but then stopped, looking back to his old friend. “Oh, and, Strider, do I already know what he had on you?”
A smile appeared, an aberration on Hoppler’s face. “I tell you, and you become a detail I have to take care of as well. So no, I’m not about to admit to anything, my friend.”
Rune nodded and moved to follow Des through the drinking room of the gaming hell. He walked out the front door with Elle tucked tightly to his side.
A half hour ago he was positive he was about to finally meet death.
But one could never predict how fortunes would turn.
Instead, he was walking out alive.
Alive with the world at his side.
{ Chapter 24 }
The crack against Rune’s jaw made her wince, but Elle held her ground, not rushing forth, not throwing an arm up.
Didn’t Lord Kallen say to punch Rune when she saw him?
Better to have Des do it. Her niece’s husband was so much stronger than her.
Plus, she’d already stabbed Rune. Twice.
She looked around the drawing room in Weston’s townhouse. She should have stayed in here earlier today when Des and Weston had made her promise she wouldn’t move from the room until they returned. But she had needed air, her legs needed to be moving, and then she’d spied the park across the street.
She had only made it three steps from the townhouse before Gatlong’s brutes had grabbed her and flung her into a carriage.
She stifled a shudder, attempting to block the last four hours out of her mind.
She was safe. Rune was safe. Des and Weston had minor injuries—a few cuts from blades—but both had sloughed them off like mere gnat bites.
“You were working for Hoppler this whole time? Laney was almost killed by his thugs, you despicable swine.” Weston stepped in front of Des and punched Rune the second he gained his feet after Des’s hit.
Good. Wes was huge. It should hurt.
Lies should hurt.
Rune smashed back against the wall, sending the glass of the sconce next to his head rattling off its holder and shattering to the floor.
His head bobbing up and down, Rune fought to stay conscious.
Des and Weston stood in front of her—a solid wall between her and Rune.
A wall she needed or she would break and rush to him and forgive everything she shouldn’t.
Her look shifted off of the sliver of Rune she could see between their shoulders, concentrating on a small tear in the back of Des’s dark coat where a blade had caught him.
“You have explaining to do,” Des growled.
“Shiploads of it.” Weston’s snarl was even lower. Deadlier.
His hand rubbing along his jaw, Rune shook his head, shook off the impact of the fists on his face and his eyes narrowed, his stare focusing on her through the crack between Des and Weston. “Elle—”
“No. You don’t talk to her.” Des’s shoulder slammed into Weston’s side, erasing the small window. “You don’t look at her until you give me a good reason that I would ever let you near her again. Elle’s my family and you’re lucky that Jules isn’t here or she would have already slit your throat.”
“Start
talking,” Weston said, his trunks of arms crossing over his chest.
Rune sighed. A sigh she could feel in her own bones.
Rune’s jaw cracked and his voice started low, each word drawn out, not wanting to be spoken. “My father was an antiquarian. He led expeditions for treasures and he was killed by a peer—a man that had hired him—when I was fourteen. Elle knows this. I never lied to her on that score."
He paused, silence stretching long over the room. “My father was Miles Draper. Lord Gatlong killed him. Gatlong financed the last expedition my father cobbled together with the goal of finding the Box of Draupnir. But the truth is, my father had been searching his whole life for that box.”
He coughed, and she could hear the blood thick in his mouth. It was quite possible Wes had dislodged a few teeth.
“Keep talking,” Des said.
“They found the box deep in the jungle in a Mayan ruin. Gatlong didn’t even enter the jungle—too much of a coward—he just waited for my father in the Port of Veracruz. And when my father told him what he’d found, showed him, Gatlong killed him without a thought, without the slightest consideration for spilling blood. I watched it through a wooden screen. And then the scum made his daughter rip the box out of my father’s bloody hands. Cold, dead hands. Gatlong wouldn’t even bend over to do it himself. To soil his own hands with the blood.”
“Jules?” The word whispered from Des’s mouth and he leaned slightly to the left, cracking a space Elle could see through again.
Rune nodded. “She was young then. So young. A few years older than me, but still, so young. I saw it in her eyes. The horror. I watched Jules bend, watched her free my father’s bloody fingers from the box and take it.”
Elle’s head started to shake. “No. No. Not Jules. She couldn’t have done that. No. I don’t believe it.”
Rune found her eyes through the sliver between the men’s shoulders. “Yes. I watched it happen. She never told you?”
Her face contorted. “Why would she tell me that?”
“Exactly. I’m sure she wanted to forget it just as much as I did. But it wasn’t her fault—she didn’t have a choice—she was just as much in shock as I was.”
The Soul of a Rogue (A Box of Draupnir Novel Book 3) Page 16
