by Rebecca King
Marguerite slid a plate of food across the table toward him and watched him slump into the seat opposite. Her own frustrations were rife given how confined she had been in the house over the last several days. It was difficult to know which was worse, being confined to a house that wasn’t even hers or going out to look for someone who just couldn’t be found.
In spite of his temper, Joe was aware of the domesticity that settled over them as Marguerite poured him a drink and sat down again. The atmosphere could only be described as amiable. The house was nice and warm; thanks to the roaring fire no doubt Marguerite had lit. It also smelled of apple pie, the result of her afternoon spent baking.
“You have been baking again,” he murmured, eyeing the bread on the counter hungrily.
He had to wonder if Marguerite was trying to seduce him with food. Every time he came back to the house, he was assaulted with food, warmth, and a friendly smile. Everything that had happened outside suddenly melted away, as though no more meaningful than a dim and distant nightmare. Still, he didn’t object when she tore off a huge chunk of bread and pushed the butter at him.
“Good Lord, this is good,” he mumbled as he dug into the delicious pie, meat, vegetables, and the bread.
Marguerite studied him while he ate. The anxiety of the last several days was starting to show in the dark circles beneath his eyes, and the faint flicker of anger which had grown steadily over the course of the week. She knew all the men were frustrated at being unable to find their colleague. Reg had been sent off to the outer regions of Kent, where he could do the least damage, especially to Marcus and Ben while they were in Sayers’ hands. While nobody had said as much to her directly, she had overheard their conversations enough to understand that the longer Marcus and Ben were held captive, the less likely they were to be released alive. She wanted to ask Joe if they were looking for the men or their bodies, but daren’t because her father was caught up in all of this somewhere. He too had yet to be found. While she was desperate to know where he was and what had happened to him, a part of her preferred not to know, just in case the news wasn’t good.
“Just how long do I have to stay here?” she asked while Joe was busy stuffing his mouth full of pie.
Without realising what he was doing, his gaze slid over her. Even stressed, she looked stunning. The heat from the fire had caused some of her hair to slide free of its confinement at the top of her head. Those tendrils now danced and bobbed about her face whenever she moved and drew his gaze to the refined beauty it framed.
“You need to stay here for a bit longer, Marguerite,” he said, eager to do something – anything – to take his mind off her. He had to say something to get his mind off the direction his thoughts were taking, and his body’s instinctive response.
Marguerite opened her mouth but, before she could say a word, the back door opened. The only sound she made was a startled gasp when Reg stepped into the room.
Joe glanced over his shoulder, took one look at who was standing in the doorway and bolted out of his seat.
“I thought you were off to Kent,” he snapped.
His tension rose when Reg sauntered casually across the room to stand in front of the fireplace. He warmed himself for several moments without answering.
“I have a job to do here first,” Reg murmured casually. There was no affability in his voice.
Marguerite shivered beneath the man’s steady stare and had to look away when she knew her face betrayed the fear she felt. She had the distinct impression that this man was a predator and was looking for any sign of weakness within her. Instinctively, she sidled closer to Joe.
“Well, good evening.”
Marguerite briefly closed her eyes and prayed that she was mistaken. When she opened her eyes again, her gaze fell on Sayers, who was now standing in the doorway with a look of supreme arrogance on his face.
Joe knew he was in trouble. Against Reg, Joe knew he would win any fight hands-down. With Sayers running interference or trying to accost Marguerite, which is what Joe suspected he was there to do, Joe knew the odds were stacked against him. He held his arm out for Marguerite without taking his eyes off Reg, whom he knew was his biggest threat.
Marguerite ran to him and clung to his shirt. Fortified by Joe’s quiet strength, she glared at Sayers.
“What are you doing here? Don’t you know it is rude to just walk into someone’s house?”
“But this isn’t your house, Marguerite,” Sayers murmured. “I must say, I am surprised at you living with your lover like this.” His gaze fell pointedly to Marguerite’s ring finger. “Not married yet?”
“I don’t see that has anything to do with you,” she countered angrily. “Get out of this house.”
She wished she could order Reg out, not least because she hated the way the man seemed to be sizing Joe up. The tension within the room rose tenfold. Everyone seemed frozen in time. There could be little doubt that each was waiting for the other to make one move that could be deemed threatening and then all hell would break loose.
It didn’t take long.
Joe slowly turned to face the Count, and then noticed the tall coachman standing behind him. It was too dark to see the man’s face but Joe knew that with three against one he would be lucky to get out of this alive. He threw Marguerite an apologetic look for having failed her.
“Joe,” she whispered when she saw that look. She knew immediately that his chances of surviving were not great. Horrified, she turned to Sayers and glared hatefully at him. “I will see you rot in Hell for this,” she hissed.
Joe barely heard her. He turned his attention to the men he had to spar with next.
“Why?” He demanded of Reg when he turned to face him. “How do you do this to your own colleagues?”
Reg shrugged, an arrogant sneer of contempt on his face. “The money was good. You forget, Joe, I am not titled, and don’t have a wealthy family behind me. The pittance the army paid me was gone before the war had even finished. What was I supposed to do, be like those beggars out on the streets all bloody and torn begging for a few pennies for a morsel? Having fought for king and country, what did I get? Eh? I got nothing, that’s what I got. I got conscripted into the bloody Star Elite, to throw my life away. Well, I am sick of it. I am sick and tired of standing in the bloody dark, staring at people who are making themselves a fortune. Why shouldn’t I get paid handsomely for what I do? Don’t you see? It’s an endless war. As soon as you deal with men like Sayers, there will be three more just like him appear.”
Joe shook his head. The more he listened to Reg, the more he began to wonder if something had turned in his mind. There was wildness in his eyes he had never seen before. Was he taking opiates? Or had the dark and dangerous work the Star Elite did turned his mind? Whatever it was, Reg had placed every man’s life in danger who had ever worked for the Star Elite. It was a situation that could continue no longer.
“God, you are a disgrace,” Joe growled. “You are no better than a street urchin. Well, Sayers can have you.”
Reg issued a soft laugh but it was mirthless. “I have already told him everything I know. I got paid handsomely for it too.”
“You don’t know everything,” Joe warned. “We have suspected it was you for a while now. Why do you think we keep sending you away? The serious work that needs to be protected has been kept well away from you.”
He saw the brief flicker of hesitation in Reg’s demeanour that damaged his arrogance. Joe threw a disgusted look at Sayers and the coachman.
“I think you need to consider that maybe Reg has been a braggart and a fool. He has told you some things, but not all of it. I am afraid that on this occasion, you are no further toward beating the Star Elite than you were the day you started. Its time you realised, Sayers, that your days are numbered. Reg can’t help you now. He is going to gaol for a very long time.”
Joe then turned to Reg and sighed heavily. “I didn’t think the day would come when I had to fight someone I consid
ered a friend. How foolish of me to have ever considered you worthy of being a colleague in the first place.”
He landed the first punch before Reg could even blink, and braced himself for a very violent and bloody battle.
Reg received the full force of Joe’s anger and was pummelled mercilessly. Marguerite watched them in horror. She was so engrossed in trying to find a way to stop them from killing each other when she felt cold hands clawing at her wrists.
“Get your hands off me,” she snarled. Without thinking, she lifted the knife off the table and stabbed at the man’s hand when he wouldn’t let go. Thankfully, he yelped and released her.
Racing to the hallway door, she threw the chair across the doorway in the hope of slowing them down. Aware of them fumbling with the obstruction, she raced down the hall without any idea what she was going to do next.
Her scream was stifled by the dark hand which came out of nowhere and clamped mercilessly over her mouth. Her eyes were wide when they looked at her attacker who had appeared out of the front room as silently as a ghost. Mentally cursing herself for being a fool, she struggled and fought with everything she had, only vaguely aware of the dull thuds of the men fighting at the back of the house.
“You will come with me now,” Sayers declared coldly. “Bring her,” he snapped at the buffoon now holding her.
As casually as though nothing had happened, he opened the front door and sauntered out of it, pulling his gloves on as he went.
Marguerite had never hated anybody in her life as much as she did Sayers right then. If she was able to get away from the thug, she would have hit the man before her with all of the walking canes resting in the cane stand beside the door. As it was, she was carried outside and deposited into the dark confines of Sayers’ carriage. Within seconds she was watching the safe house disappear from view.
Rattling the door, she cried aloud when she found it locked. Sliding over to the other door, she tried that too, but it was also locked. She was now trapped, inside a carriage, with London’s worst gangster. With a huff, she folded her arms and sat back in the seat, and issued Sayers with a venomous glare.
“God, you are a bastard. I don’t care what you think you are doing, this is kidnap. Let me out at once,” she bit out through clenched teeth.
Sayers allowed the silence to fall. At first, she didn’t think he was going to answer her. Then she realised he was allowing the tension to build in an attempt to get control over her. She refused to relinquish anything to this man and pierced him with a dour look at the same time that she curled her lip. She was determined not to give this man an inch. If she refused to co-operate, then he could get nothing from her. Could he?
He scowled deeply when he suddenly lunged forward, a hard sneer on his face. His eyes turned menacing, but she had recently seen and experienced too much to be scared anymore. She merely looked at him disinterestedly without even flinching.
“I always get what I want, Marguerite,” he drawled.
“Not this time,” she replied.
“You are completely at my mercy,” he added.
“Nobody is at anybody’s mercy here,” she whispered. “You may have Reg as your traitor, but they know, my dear.” She watched Sayers’ gaze sharpen.
He leaned back in his seat thoughtfully, unprepared for that.
“They also know that you have no information about their recent actions that is of any use. You see, they have ignored Reg in all of their schemes. He has been cut out of their plans completely. While he has been tattle tailing to you, they have been going about their own business, of which you know nothing. He has turned traitor on three of his colleagues and nearly gotten them killed. They haven’t trusted him with the truth for a long time.”
“How can you be sure the other two are still alive?” Sayers murmured.
Marguerite studied him closely. Outwardly, he was as cold and unmoveable as marble. But, when he lifted his hand to his cane, there was a slight tremor visible even in the dimness of the carriage’s interior. There was also a small, singular bead of sweat on his brow that made it clear he was not as unflappable as she had first believed him to be.
“You can think whatever you like, Sayers, but it is not a matter of if you go to prison, it is a case of when you go. But let me just make this clear, the War Office will not have a two-bit thug like you injuring their men and not facing trial for it. You will be punished in the severest of ways. Anything you do between now and then will just add to your prison term.” She scoffed a patronising laugh even though inwardly she knew she was pushing the wrong man too far.
Inwardly she was desperate to know how Joe was, and if the men were still fighting. She knew the odds were now stacked against her because Joe was otherwise occupied and would have no idea where Sayers was taking her. Unless the men from the Star Elite were successful in finding not just her but Ben and Marcus as well, then she was at Sayers mercy, she just didn’t want to admit it.
“Good riddance to you, I say. You will certainly be thrown out of the ballrooms of the ton when they find out what a fraudster you are. The War Office is aware of your alias. It is only a matter of time before word gets out. You will be banned from every house in London you need to get into in order to steal your precious gems. Then what are you going to do?”
She didn’t see the slap coming until the sound of flesh striking flesh rang out in the deathly silence that followed. Tears stung her lashes. She looked at the man seated opposite with every ounce of the contempt she felt, and with all of her anger, fury, and fear for Joe, slapped him back as hard as she could. She watched with a strange mix of satisfaction and trepidation as a large red welt appeared on his cheek.
“Don’t you ever hit me again,” she bit out through clenched teeth before she settled back into the seat and took a deep, fortifying breath.
“You know, I can just take what I want from you,” he drawled with an air of calculation.
She knew exactly what he meant from the way his gaze raked over her.
“Try it and die,” she snapped, her gaze hard.
Sayers frowned as though this was not the response he had been expecting.
“Never mind,” he said as he drew in a deep breath. “We can adapt.”
“Adapt yourself. I shall never be drawn into your seedy world willingly,” she snarled.
“No, I don’t expect you will,” Sayers murmured.
With that, he lapsed into silence, and seemingly completely forgot about her. He turned his attention out of the window and studied the houses rolling past and didn’t speak to her again.
Joe’s lungs were about to burst, but he daren’t slow his pace. Thankfully, because Sayers was arrogant, the carriage was rolling along at a steady clip rather than trotting. Joe suspected it was because Sayers didn’t want to cause a scene that would generate witnesses. Whatever the reason for its steady journey, Joe was able to cut a few corners here and there, and pre-empt which way the carriage was going so he could catch up with it. He had no idea where Sayers was going, but it certainly wasn’t to the docks or the East End.
Thankfully, the journey was relatively short, and came to a stop, surprisingly, at the magistrate’s house. Joe stood gasping for air as he scoured the street for accomplices before he edged closer. He stuck to the shadows and watched the coachman open the door and hand Sayers down. The man didn’t even stop to wait for Marguerite and swept through Lucas’ open door without a backward look. Marguerite was grabbed by the coachman as soon as she put a foot on the pavement, and physically hauled into the house with her kicking in protest.
Without any way of sending for back-up, Joe knew he was on his own in this. Without any clue as to what Sayers might be up to, Joe had to find a way to the house to see for himself why Marguerite had been taken there. With the front door now closed, Joe quietly made his way around the back.
Deep in the back of his mind was the memory of Sayers’ determination to marry Marguerite. Joe suspected that Sayers had brought Marguerit
e here so she could marry him.
“Not while I have breath in my body,” he muttered, determined to thwart it before the vows were exchanged.
He had no idea if the wedding would even be legal given Lucas was in the crook’s employ, and the bride unwilling to say the least. Just the thought of Marguerite being married to the odious creature was enough for Joe to redouble his efforts to creep around to the back of the house as fast as he could. Rather than stand near the window to take a look inside, he set to work on the lock on the back door. Within seconds he was walking through the scullery, and creeping into the main body of the house.
Every movement was fuelled by his determination to keep Marguerite away from Sayers. She was not only too good for the crook. Joe also knew now that she was too precious to him to lose. He had no idea what this meant for their future, or even what kind of future he wanted with her, but he knew he couldn’t let her go. She was a part of his life now. They had faced many challenges together, and she had risen to deal with each one with a strength and determination that had surprised him. She had become essential to him. To think of her not being beside him anymore left him feeling slightly cast-adrift, and he hated it.
After everything that had happened to her since she had met him, Joe wouldn’t be surprised if she never wanted to see him again once this was all over. However, he would have to face that bridge when he came to it and do what he could to deal with any doubts she had. Right now, he had to get her away from Sayers.
Drawing his gun, he crept toward the only room where a light was visible beneath the door. He knew that the coachman had already resumed his habitual seat atop the carriage where he would wait until Sayers left the building. Joe suspected that was because Sayers was armed in some way and was cold-blooded enough to be able to defend himself whatever the cost to human life.
With that in mind, Joe withdrew his weapon, cocked it, and crept toward the door so he could listen.
