Hold Your Breath 01 - Stone Devil Duke

by K. J. Jackson

  “Yes, you will just have to trust me.” Devin didn’t bother to curb his sarcasm. “Who is it? Who are you taking down with those?”

  Jason hedged, then sighed. “Baron Von Traff.”

  “Von Traff?” Devin blanched. He had talked to Von Traff the night of the Appleton party. It was only for a passing moment—hell, that was the night Aggie had thought she saw her attacker. And he had talked to the damn bastard.

  “You know him?”

  “Only in passing. And he would be dead right now, had I known.” He turned from Jason and whistled. His horse trotted to his side. “We need to find Aggie.”

  “I had your man—Thompson—take her back to the house.”

  “Good. We need to let her know right away that her husband has not just killed her brother.”

  Jason coughed at the insult, but said nothing. Devin gave him credit for that.

  “You can tell me along the way why those papers are so damn important,” Devin said. “And they sure-as-hell better be important for Aggie to almost get killed over them.”

  “Killed? Aggie?” Jason froze, shades of white running up his cheeks. He ran a few steps to catch up to Devin’s quick strides. “She did not mention anyone trying to kill her.”

  Devin raised an eyebrow at Jason, not breaking his pace. “No, I do not suppose she would have. I have a few things to share with you, brother-in-law. Whether you knew it or not, you put your sister through hell. And you are lucky I am not tearing you apart for it right now.”

  ~~~

  The two men stepped into the open area of the great lawn behind Stonewell, and Devin could see that Jason was close to being physically sick after hearing about Aggie’s escapades. Posing as a hack driver, her voyages into the scum of London, her cache of pistols, getting shot—and he had even left out the worst details.

  Jason had not said one word during Devin’s report. He just got paler and paler, and Devin took comfort in that—at least he didn’t have the only stomach that curdled at the danger Aggie purposefully set herself in.

  He let the images he described sink into Jason’s brain as he looked up. In full sight of the sky on the open lawn, Devin noted the early sun-rays were already waning from a storm brewing off to the west.

  As they neared the house, Thompson appeared, stumbling out of the tree line on the opposite end of the clearing. He clutched a hand to the back of his head. Both men sprinted to Thompson.

  “Thompson.” Devin pulled Thompson’s hand away from his head, only to see a mess of blood. “Your head—your eye—who did this to you?”

  “Well, your grace, the black eye is from the duchess. She wanted to follow you. I would not let her, so she punched me to set me down. I was getting up from her blow— “She laid you out flat?”

  ”Yes, your grace, she did. I, ah,” he coughed, “I did not see it coming, your grace.”

  Both Devin and Jason stifled laughter.

  “But as I was getting up, something crashed against my head from behind. It must have been a rock. I only just woke a few short moments ago, and was on my way to the house. Where is the duchess? I have quite the bone to pick with her.”

  “Thompson, she is not with us,” Devin said, panic invading him.

  Devin and Jason looked at each other, grey eyes reflecting the same deep fear in green ones. They tore toward the house, frenzied, and searched the entire building, the stables, and grounds, screaming for Aggie.

  She was not to be found.

  ~~~

  Aggie jerked awake and was greeted with two things, darkness tight in front of her eyes, and pain so brutal in her head she was sure a thousand knives were embedded in her skull.

  She struggled for calm, trying to orientate herself. A dark cloth rubbed on her eyelashes as she blinked against the blackness, the tight tie of it only exacerbating the excruciating throbbing in her head. Flat on her side, her hands were tied behind her back, a rough rope cutting into her skin. She was jostling in a closed carriage—thick cushions under her, but no wind on her face. Her legs were unbound—a small favor; and aside from her head, she was relatively unharmed.

  How long had she been unconscious? An hour, maybe two? She moved her right leg, rubbing her left thigh. Her pistol wasn’t there.

  “It is gone.” A voice, black syrup that echoed of evil, broke through the muddled remains of her unconsciousness. It was him. The voice was unmistakable. She had lived in fear of it too long to be wrong.

  Panic seized her. Her father’s murderer. She had wanted this. Needed this. Then she had let it all go. Let it go. And now she was blindfolded and tied up. Aggie almost began to laugh at the cruelty of it.

  Her senses more awake, the hair on her arms stood on end, every pore ready. This was good—she needed everything on fire if she was to get out of this situation. She concentrated on listening to the hooves on the ground. Four horses sped, rocks kicking up and hitting the carriage below. Her mind was getting clearer, and the painful throbbing began to ebb.

  His sneering voice broke through the stale air.

  “Did you honestly think I would leave a pistol on you, especially after you and that idiot duke of yours managed to take out four of my men? And now I will have to not only deal with you, but your duke, as well.”

  No—not Devin. Aggie’s mind went frantic, instant tears soaking the cloth on her eyes. Not Devin. He needed to be safe.

  Maybe Jason couldn’t catch up to him. That was her only hope. If Devin believed she betrayed him, he wouldn’t care if she disappeared. He would be done with her. She had seen that in his eyes. The rage. The instant she thought he was going to break her wrist. She should have known better. He would never hurt her. He was not his father. And then he was gone.

  She had destroyed him in the worst possible way.

  As much as she wanted him safe, it shattered her soul to imagine he would end up thinking of her in the same breath as his mother. But if it kept him safe from Von Traff, so be it. It was the only way he wouldn’t come after her, and that was worth it. All she could do was pray he believed what he saw.

  Aggie squirmed, twisting her wrists against the ropes.

  “Do not bother. The more you try to escape, the tighter the knots will get.”

  Aggie ceased. There was nothing she could do blindfolded, with arms bound.

  Her mind was working again, and what Jason had said to her earlier was beginning to filter through her brain. “Baron Von Traff?”

  “Excellent. You have discovered who I am, which makes this all the more timely. I wondered how long it would be before you learned who I was,” Von Traff said.

  Aggie could feel the heat of his body in front of her, then his hand went to the back of her head. She tried, but failed to jerk away.

  “Which means that you will be able to give me exactly what I want.”

  Damn. She had just unwittingly given Von Traff all the power—not that she was going to tell him anything. She cringed from his touch as he untied the cloth binding her eyes, then grabbed her shoulders and set her upright. He sat back down across from her.

  Aggie blinked several times, trying to adjust her eyes to the dimness in the carriage from the drawn windows. She focused on the man across from her, and bile she couldn’t suppress burned up her throat. It was him.

  She hadn’t known she would be so unprepared to see his face again. To see the greasy hair holding onto a bald head, the pockmarked cheeks, the stringy mustache that sat limp over his vile mouth, and the eyes. The evil white-blue eyes.

  Her eyes moved down.

  The hand that gripped the scalpel.

  He was as repulsive as the day he had murdered her father. As the day he had scarred her. Aggie’s first reaction was to freeze, but then she yanked up a reserve of the courage she didn’t think she possessed, and willed her body into composure.

  She stared into his eyes. “And what is it that you want?”

  “All in due time, dear, all in due time. This time, I will not be rushed. This time, I am
going to enjoy getting what I want.”

  { Chapter 20 }

  “Bloody fucking hell,” Devin spat out for the twentieth time in five minutes. He paced back and forth in his study, fists white with anger.

  Jason sat on the edge of a burgundy leather settee, leaning forward with his hands clasped tight in front of his mouth.

  A second exhaustive search had turned up nothing.

  “Are you sure there is nowhere else she could be?” Jason asked.

  “Yes, positive.” The words barely eked past Devin’s fury. “There is only one other place she could possibly go, but we would have passed her in the woods, or heard her on the way back. She would not have had enough time to get there. And damn.” Devin stopped mid-pace to glare at Jason. “If you would have cared about her just the tiniest bit—you would have insisted she tell me about you, and that whole god-damned scene could have been avoided, and Aggie would be right where she belongs. She would be sitting here right now safe and sound—”

  “I do care about her and you sure as hell know it. What I didn’t know was that she married a man who would assume the worst of her.” Jason stood up, giving Devin a just-as deadly glare. “I didn’t want you to know about me, precisely because I was trying to protect her.”

  “You should know her well enough to know that the man she married could be trusted.”

  Each took a threatening step toward the other.

  “I don’t know if I trust you even now.”

  The study door opened, and Thompson entered carrying a silver tray with dark brandy and two glasses. “Your grace, if I may interrupt.”

  “No, you may not, Thompson.” Devin crossed his arms across his chest as he shifted his glare to his steward.

  Thompson ignored Devin and continued on, calm as ever, and set the tray on a side table. “It has occurred to me that the bickering you two are partaking in is not getting the duchess back any quicker. As you two throw your fits, Aggie could, at this moment, be taken farther and farther away.”

  “Thomp—”

  He held up his hand, stopping Devin. “Now, the two of you working together might get you closer to finding her. But unless you both put your pettiness about the other aside, she may be lost to all of us forever.” He looked at Jason, then back to Devin. “I am quite fond of the duchess, your grace, and would rather not lose her. It is time for you to find her and get her back. I will have horses readied.”

  Devin’s scowl broke as Thompson left the room. His eyes swung to Jason. “Fine. For the moment. We go under the assumption that Von Traff took her?”

  Jason nodded, losing no urgency in his posture.

  “You know Von Traff the best. Obviously, he wants those papers.” Devin pointed toward the safe that now held the incriminating evidence against Von Traff. “And he does not know you are alive. Are you certain of that?”

  “Yes. No one knows.”

  “But could he possibly know where the papers have been?”

  “No, he knew they were sent to my father, but there is no way he would have known the evidence was in the panther—he would have easily stolen it long ago had he known.”

  “So where would he believe the papers to be, then?”

  “Our London house was ransacked, that I saw first-hand and it looked recent. It looked desperate. That leaves our main estate and our country home we use for hunting.” Jason rubbed his forehead, searching. “According to our solicitor’s records I found, father had been at all three homes—routine visits, I am sure—just days before his death. My best guess is that Von Traff thinks father hid the evidence at one of them.”

  “Or that Aggie hid the evidence at one of them. Or that she would be privy to any secret hiding spots your father had in the homes.”

  Jason nodded. “If he took her to one of the houses,” Jason looked at the clock on the mantel, “and he travelled fast, he may even be done with one and moving onto the other by now.”

  “We split up, you take Clapinshire, I will take Mitlan Place.”

  Devin went to his desk and opened a rich mahogany case to matching pistols. He looked up at Jason. “I assume you are armed?”

  “You assume correctly.”

  Both men, dark and furious, strode out of the house.

  “Do you know where you are going? Aggie told you where Mitlan is?” Jason asked as they went to the waiting horses.

  “No, she didn’t. But I know. I make it my business to know as much about my wife as possible. I will find it.” Devin mounted his horse, and with a curt nod to Jason, took off down Stonewell’s drive.

  Jason thundered on his heels.

  ~~~

  Aggie stepped down from the enclosed carriage, defiantly graceful, considering her arms were still tied behind her back. The day had grown muggy and still, just as it does before a wicked storm.

  Her worry for Devin intensified.

  As much as she prayed Jason hadn’t found Devin and told him the truth, she was just as afraid that the incoming storm might throw him over the edge.

  Twisting her arms again, the rope bit further into her skin. Von Traff hadn’t lied about the knots getting tighter. She could feel her left wrist beginning to bleed from the chaffing of the cheap rope.

  Von Traff grabbed her arm and pulled her around the carriage, and she realized they had arrived at Mitlan. It was almost unrecognizable—crotchety vines had taking reign of the walls, covering the once proud brick masonry. Why would Von Traff bring her here?

  She glanced at the surrounding landscape. It had fared no better. Overgrown weeds were everywhere, and toward the back of the house, Aggie could see the sharp angle of the roof-line beginning to crack, slowly caving in.

  Pangs of guilt shot through her. She let this place fall to ruin as it had. She had not visited, had not had staff at Mitlan since her father’s death, much less ordered any upkeep or repairs. Jason was going to be so disappointed in her. She would fix it, if she got out of this.

  When she got out of this, she corrected herself.

  Von Traff dragged her across the walk as quickly as his stumpy strides allowed and pushed her through the front door of Mitlan.

  Looking around the dim entry, Aggie was not surprised by the slight smell of mildew that hung in the air, and dusty, cobwebbed corners and walls. Von Traff pulled her further down the hall.

  What did surprise her, as she passed by room after room, was the complete upheaval of the place. Furniture, books, linens—the place was in complete shambles. Thieves had obviously ransacked the home, going after any valuables that may have been left here.

  Von Traff pushed her into the library. Several small tables were completely overturned, the large ornately carved desk sat at an odd angle, chairs were splintered in half, and not one book remained on the shelves that ran waist-high to the ceiling.

  Not one book on the shelves. Why would they remove all the books?

  “My apologies for leaving the place in such disarray, but we were not having any luck finding my pardon.” Kicking some books aside, Von Traff flipped a wooden chair upright and shoved Aggie into it. She landed awkwardly, twisting one of her hands, and the rope dug tighter into her skin.

  Fighting a wince, she looked up at Von Traff. “You did all of this?”

  He nodded with a sneer.

  “Bastard.”

  He shrugged his shoulders, then turned and walked out of the room. Aggie could hear his footsteps receding down the hall, then the front door opened and closed.

  Frantic, Aggie searched the room. She knew she wouldn’t be able to escape with her hands tied around her back, she would be incredibly slow and wouldn’t be able to protect herself.

  Her eyes scanned the mess. Books strewn in every possible place, splintered chairs, haphazard papers—there wasn’t one spot in which the dark wood floors showed. Aggie caught sight of the waist-high sideboard that ran a quarter of the width of the room. The middle of the sideboard had been hacked apart by a hatchet, but most important, a port glass was stuck betwee
n torn wood. That glass was intact, but what had happened to the rest of the set? Aggie struggled up out of the chair and across the room, slipping and tripping on all the books and papers crowding her feet.

  Reaching the sideboard, she kicked at the paper on the floor until she heard a clink of glass. Shifting a book away with her boot, Aggie spotted a broken triangular shard. She squatted, struggling for a few moments to pick up the glass with her bound hands behind her.

  Glass chunk solid in her hands, she stumbled back to the chair, sitting down. She turned the glass in her right hand, holding it between her palm and fingers, and began sawing at the rope. The shard cut into her palm, the warm blood on her hand making the glass slippery.

  Back and forth. Back and forth. Aggie struggled for calm. Then a few cords on the rope broke. She sawed harder.

  The rope loosened, and Aggie could feel only a few more cords between her and escape. She pressed hard on the glass. It slipped out of her hand, hit the chair, and fell to the floor through the space under the armrest.

  “Damn.” Aggie struggle out of the chair again. Flicking papers next to the chair with her foot, she searched for the glass. Lucky. It landed on top of a book and hadn’t disappeared into the mess.

  The click of the front door echoed down the hall. Aggie kicked at the books to hide the bloody glass, then spun around, landing in the chair just as Von Traff entered the room.

  “Duchess, you really should quit squirming.” Von Traff strolled into the room, carrying a stiff black satchel. “You will be doing plenty of that soon enough.”

  Aggie watched him, producing a facade of calm defiance while she tried to bury her blood-soaked hands into the back of her skirts. Von Traff set the black bag on the large desk, askew from three broken legs. He opened the bag with a snap.

  “It has been a long while since I have had a chance to partake in such…entertainment. Your flesh was the last I cut, and it reminded me that I do miss it. We were in much, too much, of a rush last time.”

  Aggie’s eyes grew wide as Von Traff methodically rolled out a piece of red velvet cloth, then pulled from the bag a gleaming silver rod with a dark mahogany handle. The rod ended in a wicked-sharp point, and he laid it gently on the velvet.