Latymer (Nexus)

by Tracey Devlyn

  Emotion choked Mac’s throat, and he found it difficult to breathe. Again, covering her hand with his, he lifted it to his mouth and pressed his lips against its center. Her sweet scent drenched his senses. “I will come. When you’re ready, I will come.”

  She rose up on her tiptoes, and he bent low. Their lips met somewhere in the middle. Pulling her close, until their bodies aligned as one, Mac exulted in the storm rushing across his senses—warmth, softness, aching heat, desire, yearning, and love. He had never experienced anything so perfect, so pure, as Amelia’s kiss.

  He wanted much more from her—for them. But with Latymer in the next room, even this stolen intimacy seemed too risky. Ending their kiss, he rested his forehead against hers. “I love you, Amelia.”

  This time her smile was unalloyed joy. “I love you, too, Mac. I always have and I always will.”

  Her declaration wrapped around him like the warmest blanket.

  The doorknocker slamming against the metal plate broke their reverie. Amelia jumped; her gaze flashed from the entry door to the drawing room.

  Mac nudged her behind him before striding forward and snatching open the door. Cameron Adair stood under the portico. Tension cut deep into the thief-taker’s normally unruffled mien.

  “Adair.” Mac stepped back to let him in. “What is happening?”

  Rather than entering, Adair flicked his thumb over his shoulder. “Does that young man sprawled in the street belong to you?”

  Mac rushed outside and Amelia followed.

  “Harry!” Amelia exclaimed, seeing her young groom disheveled and trying to regain himself. “Is he all right?” she asked Charlotte Fielding, who had arrived at that moment and was in the process of helping the young man into a sitting position.

  Reclining on the back of her heels, the apothecary said, “He has a nasty laceration on the back of his head. Other than a terrible headache, he’ll be fine.”

  “Someone attacked you, Harry?” Amelia asked.

  Harry nodded. “I’m sorry, ma’am.” He pointed down the road. “He clubbed me good and stole your horse.”

  Mac stared at the boy, uncomprehending. Slowly, the unwelcome meaning behind Harry’s words registered. Mac spun around, his mind screaming in disbelief. His gaze landed on the open drawing room window, and he knew immediately what he would find. Knew it to the depths of his gut-wrenching soul.

  Fury surged inside him. “Latymer!”

  PART THREE

  PROTECTIVE FATHER

  LATYMER

  5:22 a.m.

  Within the next twelve hours, you’ll either die from a fever or a festered wound.

  Latymer knew he had far less than the twelve hours O’Donnell had given him. The area around his gunshot wound pulsed with fiery heat, and his strength ebbed with every passing minute.

  Escaping the Hunt Agency had been sheer luck. He had lulled O’Donnell into a false sense of security by feigning sleep. Then, when he’d heard the woman say a horse was out front, he’d known he had to give it a try. Not wanting to cause a sound, he’d avoided opening the window any farther. Contorting his body to slide through the narrow space had added greatly to his current agony.

  Ignoring his physical discomfort, Latymer focused his sluggish thoughts on finding Giles. He had one more opportunity to do right by his son, and he’d be damned if he would fail him this time.

  Up ahead, he spotted Charles Street and slowed his mount’s breakneck pace. He hoped to God, Giles had managed to find his way to Somerton’s. If he hadn’t, Latymer’s next move would become infinitely more complicated.

  After turning onto Charles Street, he pulled up hard on his reins. Though dawn had yet to break, a milky gray promise of what was to come pushed against the darkness. It was enough light for Latymer to see his son a few hundred yards ahead. Giles was shaking his head as he backed away from the outstretched hand of a tall, black-haired lady. Somerton stood a few feet behind her.

  Even from this distance, he could see concern written on the woman’s features. But his son’s reaction was not the reason his heart thrashed inside his chest. At that moment, a carriage rolled to a stop right behind Giles, and Collette emerged.

  Swiftly, she swept up behind his son, clamping her hands around Giles’s shoulders. She bent low to whisper something into his ear. In one smooth, sensuous move, she straightened and smiled at her audience.

  Latymer doubted Somerton had ever met Collette before. That didn’t prevent Somerton’s initial bewilderment from transforming into murderous intent. Somerton rushed forward, moving the black-haired lady behind him. Three large men jumped down from the carriage and encircled their mistress.

  Collette’s arms snaked around his son’s torso. Giles shrank away from her touch, clutching his toy to his chest. Her smile only broadened.

  The whole scene unfolded in mere seconds, though it felt like hours had flashed by. Latymer’s instincts roared for him to jump into the fray. But his physical strength was diminishing so quickly that he didn’t even know if he could keep his seat for much longer, let alone engage in a physical battle. But he must find a way to rescue his son.

  Panicked now, a solution seemed beyond his reach. Latymer rubbed his burning forehead. Think, think. Dammit, think!

  Horse’s hooves clattered against the stone cobbles behind him. His mount’s head thrashed up and down, wary of the newcomer’s approach. Wincing, Latymer glanced over his shoulder and caught O’Donnell’s livid gaze. Dammit.

  Latymer gathered his reins.

  “Don’t even think about it, Latymer,” O’Donnell commanded, drawing his horse to a jarring halt beside him. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

  “What I’ve been doing for weeks. Trying to get my son back,” he said, gesturing to the unfolding nightmare ahead.

  GILES

  5:25 a.m.

  I should have waited inside Lord Somerton’s town house like Papa had told me. But when his lordship said Papa wasn’t there, all I could think of was to go back to the office by the docks. The office might smell bad, but it wasn’t full of people I didn’t know. Not so with Lord Somerton’s house.

  There were so many people gathered in the doorway behind his lordship. They all started talking at once when they saw me, and then they gestured for me to come inside. I was frightened and confused. I recognized only one of them. Sydney. She had visited Abbingale and had given a toy to all the boys.

  Thoughts pounded inside my head, clouding my mind. I stared up at Sydney and Lord Somerton, clutching the toy she had given me to my chest. I wanted to take her hand, but Papa wasn’t inside. I needed to find him.

  I didn’t know what to do, and I could no longer hear the voices of the people standing before me. The only clear thought I had was to run. And to keep on running until I either collapsed or found Papa.

  I slowly backed away from the front door, all the way to the pavement and right into the path of the French lady.

  She smelled like dead flowers. Her long fingernails dug into my arms, preventing me from escaping. Not that I would try after hearing her whispered warning. Move, and I’ll kill your father.

  Movement behind Lord Somerton caught my eye. A gentleman, whose long hair was drawn together with a leather tie, pulled a knife from his boot and slid quietly out of the house.

  “Non, non, non,” the French lady admonished. She snaked one hand around my left shoulder, and the other grasped my right jaw. “Don’t make me snap the boy’s neck. I prefer my men a tad older, but in these circumstances one cannot be too choosy.”

  “Let the boy go,” Lord Somerton said. “He’s of no use to you.”

  She caressed my cheek. “Don’t be so sure, bel homme.”

  “What do you want?”

  Another man and woman slipped out of the house.

  “Wrong question,” she purred, rubbing her cheek along the side of my head.

  “Whom do you want?” a lady with short-cropped hair asked.

  “Clever girl.” The
French woman rested her chin on top of my head. One long finger pointed at Lord Somerton. “He’ll do.”

  Her answer didn’t sit well with his lordship’s friends. The two men and women fanned out in a protective circle around the earl. Each one now held a weapon and a fierce expression.

  I felt weak with terror and had no time to understand what was happening. Then I heard the pounding of galloping horses, and we all pivoted toward the sound. All I could make out was the shape of two riders barreling forward. Their clothing and faces were in deep shadow, creating a menacing sight. With no thought but to flee, I jammed my toy into my captor’s face.

  She screeched and released me. Lord Somerton captured her wrists, giving me a chance to stumble away. And that’s when the battle began.

  “Giles, up!” Papa yelled at me, reining in hard.

  Whirling around, I saw Papa on a huge black horse, coming right at me. Terror and delight kept me rooted in place.

  Someone from behind lifted me in the air and tossed me onto the back of his saddle.

  “Hold on.”

  I wrapped my arms tight around Papa’s waist and pressed my face into his back. My throat clenched together so hard I could barely breathe. My nose stung from holding back the tears. Sending up a silent prayer, I thanked God for giving me back my papa.

  LATYMER

  5:54 a.m.

  I knew I would not make it. The bullet in my shoulder had done far more than rip through flesh and muscle. My body was dying, one breath at a time. Shivers rippled along my cold, clammy skin and the entire left side of my torso pulsated with excruciating pain. I remained conscious by a slim, frayed thread. But I had to hold on—for just a little longer. If I did nothing else in this life, I had to get Giles to the office near the docks. I had to.

  At this moment, the only thing keeping me seated on my horse was my son’s small arms clutched around my middle, a constant reminder to push on, despite the agony of living. After all he’d been through, Giles still trusted me, his father, to keep him safe. And, God help me, I would do so with my last breath.

  I covered my son’s clasped hands, giving them a reassuring squeeze. “Almost there.” I had so many damned regrets weighing on me, but Giles was not among them. With every innocent smile, my son revealed what was truly important in life—family, love, happiness. I’d had all that for a time—until I decided to take the shortest route to achieving my goals. Had I gone about securing my family’s future the right way, we would all still be together. I choked down another regret, one more to add to an ever-increasing list.

  We were close to the docks now. Close enough for my mind-numbing fear to ease its death grip. I guided our horse toward the two-story, dark, gray-stone building. “Hop down, son.”

  Giles slid off the horse, using my injured arm to steady himself. Black spots formed before my eyes, and I clamped my teeth shut, weathering the torment as quietly as I could. Once Giles’s feet hit the ground, I took a moment to swipe my fevered brow and regain my breath. Then I slowly lowered myself down.

  My world spun, and agony heaved through me in great, unrelenting waves. I went down hard and landed on one knee with such force that the bones scraped together.

  “Papa!”

  Blindly, I reached for my son and found his fragile yet firm weight an immeasurable comfort. “Tie off the horse.”

  “But, Papa—”

  “Do it. Before he runs off. Grab the saddlebag.”

  I shook my head to clear my vision and slowly, clumsily stumbled to the office door. Glancing back, I waited for Giles and noted the horse’s gleaming black coat in a world of muted grays. I hoped it would be enough of a sign for O’Donnell and Somerton.

  Within minutes, this part of the city would awaken to another dismal day filled with backbreaking labor; hours of hunger, hopelessness, and violence, or any combination thereof.

  “Find the key in the saddlebag.”

  Giles opened the flap and plunged his hand inside. He pulled out a single key. “This one, Papa?”

  “Yes,” I said, jerking my chin toward the door’s lock. “Go ahead. Unlock it.”

  It took him a few tries, but eventually a faint click reached my ears.

  Accepting Giles’s assistance, we entered into the sparsely furnished, dust-coated office. As if compelled by a force I could no longer control, my eyes began to close and my body caved in on itself. “Get me to the adjoining room. Quickly.”

  I half-fell, half-leaned against the far wall. “This is good.” From this vantage point, I could see the entire chamber as well as the outer office. My knees buckled, and as I slid down the wall, I managed, “The saddlebag.”

  Giles knelt at my side. “Papa, where are you hurt?” His brows knit together, and his voice revealed how close he was to tears.

  “It doesn’t matter. Don’t worry.” Opening the bag, my fingers brushed over several items; I recognized the packet and the letter my solicitor and I had exchanged. Reassured, my fingers searched farther until I found O’Donnell’s pistol.

  My time was running out, and I knew there was one thing left to do. “See those two chairs and the side table?” I waited for Giles to nod. “Drag them away from the wall.”

  While Giles did as instructed, I kept my attention on the entrance door. If Somerton did manage to find us—and I fervently hoped he would—I had no way of knowing if the spymaster would kill me on sight or if he would allow me a few words.

  “Like this, Papa?”

  “Yes.” The word squeezed out of my dry throat. Dear God, I could use a drink of water. “Run your fingers along the baseboard. The moment you feel it give, push hard.”

  Giles dropped to his hands and knees and did as instructed. “Found it!”

  “Push, Giles.”

  The wall shuddered, then opened wide. So did Giles’s eyes.

  “There’s nothing in there that will hurt you.” My body sagged lower against the wall. The call of oblivion clawed at the backs of my eyes. “Go inside, grab what’s there, and come back to me.”

  Giles twisted his hands together and tried to peek inside the opening.

  “You need to hurry, Giles.”

  Squaring his shoulders, Giles took a bracing breath and strode into the dark. I had never been more proud of my son than in that moment. Bravery had never come easily for Giles. Over the last few years, there had been times his gentle shyness had chafed against my nerves. But tonight he had proved himself. My son carried his own brand of courage, one I admired for its simplicity and quiet strength.

  Seconds later, Giles reappeared, hugging a large portmanteau to his chest.

  “Set it down there, then come sit beside me.”

  Once again, Giles did as instructed. He sat cross-legged near my hip and stared at me with solemn, bloodshot eyes.

  “There lies your legacy, Giles.”

  “Legacy?”

  “Your future.” I motioned for Giles to curl up against my chest—just like he used to. I braced for the pain yet none came. I felt nothing and knew my body had born as much as it could and was now shutting down.

  I kissed the crown of my son’s head and rested my chin there. The feel of Giles’s slight weight cradled in my arm seemed exactly right. “My title and property might be lost to you, but I’ve made sure you will never want for anything. Keep the bag safe, Giles.”

  Giles nodded, asking, “Can we get on the ship now? I don’t like it here.”

  “We missed the ship tonight.” Stinging sweat, mingled with blood, dripped in my eyes, making me flinch. I held my breath, forcing myself not to say another word. My son had been frightened enough for one lifetime.

  “How will we get to America?”

  “I’ve decided that we will stay in England.” A lump formed in my throat. “There’s so much we have yet to see here.”

  “All right,” Giles murmured against his chest. “Can we visit Mama’s grave?”

  My eyes burned and, for a moment, I couldn’t speak beyond the grief and guilt and
shame. Finally, I managed, “Of course.”

  “Good. I’d like to tell her about how brave you were tonight.”

  Pulling him closer, I said, “Thank you, Giles. Instead, why don’t you tell her about how brave you were, stomping about the city all by yourself.”

  “I didn’t feel very brave.”

  “Oh, but you were. I’m very proud of you.”

  Giles looked me in the eye. “You’re not mad at me?”

  “Why would I be?”

  “Because I didn’t stay here, like you said.”

  “Sometimes our hearts guide us in ways our minds never could. You followed your heart and saved my life. How could I be upset with you?”

  “I saved your life?”

  “Rather than staying hidden, you exposed yourself in order to let me know about the footpad behind me. Had you not done so… Well, let’s say I’m rather glad you did. Though I’m sorry for the trouble it caused you.”

  “I got lost,” Giles whispered.

  “More important,” I reassured him, “you found your way back here.”

  “I was so scared. I didn’t mean to fall asleep—”

  “Shhh. Staying here until it was safe was the right choice. Setting out for Somerton House with a fresh mind was also the correct decision.” I stared at Giles for a long moment before coaxing his head back down onto my chest. “You did well, Giles. Never doubt it.”

  I gazed at the door once again. Where the hell were Somerton and O’Donnell? The one time I wanted them to find me, they were nowhere in sight. I could no longer feel my son’s body pressed against my own. The realization that I was very close to having our final moments together made my vision blur with fresh tears. One escaped and tracked down my cheek.

  “If not tonight,” I said in a shaken voice, “certainly in the near future, you will hear people whispering about the bad things I’ve done.” My thoughts clouded, and I struggled to remember what I wanted to tell my son. Something important.