“I was,” Grant said shortly. “Step aside, Colin. I’ve got a prisoner I need to book.”
“A prisoner?” The runner’s brows drew inward. “Looks like a lady to me. And a pretty one at that,” he said with a wink.
“Thank you, my lord,” Juliet purred, her sneer swiftly turning into a sweet smile as she sensed a potential opening. “That’s so very kind of you to say.”
“Oh, I’m not a lord, my lady.” His handsome face turning a dull, mottled red, Colin cupped the back of his neck and grinned bashfully down at her. “Just a common bloke like any other.”
“Don’t say that!” she protested. “Surely there is nothing common about you. In fact, I believe you’re just the sort of man I’m looking for.”
“I am?” he said hopefully.
“Yes. You see, I’m afraid there has been a terrible mix up and–”
“That’s enough.” Rolling his eyes, Grant gave her manacle a warning tug. It didn’t hurt in the slightest, but that didn’t stop a few expertly timed crocodile tears from slipping down her cheeks. She usually considering playing the damsel in distress to be beneath her, but like a wolf willing to chew off its own paw to escape a trap, she would do anything – anything – to gain her freedom.
“Oh,” she cried, turning her watery gaze towards Grant. “Please stop doing that, sir. I promise I’ll behave.”
Colin frowned. “Now see here, Hargrave. Surely there’s no need to manhandle the lady. If there’s a misunderstanding–”
“The only misunderstanding is how you can be so bloody gullible. She’s playing you, you sodding idiot.” Eyes flashing with disgust, Grant unlocked the manacle from his wrist and drew both of Juliet’s arms behind her back. Her stomach plummeted when she heard the click of the key in the tiny locking chamber. “It’s what she does best. Isn’t that right, Juliet?”
“Juliet?” Colin’s brows shot up towards his hairline. “You mean this is the thief you’ve been chasing? Well bugger me!” He grinned broadly. “Although I’ll be the first to admit she doesn’t look like much of a thief.”
“Looks can be deceiving,” Grant growled. “If you’d move aside–”
“How did you finally catch her?” Colin interrupted, his curious gaze sweeping from Juliet to Grant and then back to Juliet.
“He didn’t catch me.” Juliet gave a haughty toss of her head. “I ran straight into him.”
Colin’s brow creased. “Why’d you go and do that?”
“The hell if I know,” she snapped. Now that it was apparent Colin would be of no use to her, her patience for small talk was rapidly dwindling. “Are you going to take me inside?” she asked Grant. “Or should we send for tea and crumpets?”
“Come on.” Grabbing her arm just above the elbow, Grant proceeded to steer her up the front steps and through the door. Colin jumped quickly out of the way, allowing them to pass by unhindered, and she caught a quick glimpse of a sunny foyer and a room with a long rectangular table piled high with papers before she was forced up more stairs and down a narrow hallway. Pulling a long black key out of the pocket of his waistcoat, Grant used it to open the third door on the right and pushed her inside.
She tripped on a raised floorboard, and without her arms to rebalance herself would have fallen flat on her face had Grant not grabbed her by the waist. Her head fell back against his chest, her elbows splaying out to the side. She let out a startled gasp when her bottom pressed against his powerful thighs. Even through their layers of clothing she could feel the heat of him, as well as the hardness. They fit together like two puzzle pieces clicking into place, and despite the cold prison cell that awaited she could no more stop her need for him than she could stop her next heartbeat.
She knew in her head Grant was everything that was wrong. He was a runner. A lord. Her sworn enemy. But having tasted the dark, seductive nectar of desire more than once, she could not help but crave it again.
Yes, he was wrong. In every way a man could be wrong for a woman. But this…this fire between them felt so incredibly right that if it were humanly possible she would have gladly stayed wrapped in his arms for all of eternity.
Daring to test waters that were probably best left untouched, she brushed her hands ever so lightly against the granite bulge pressing into her backside. Grant’s sharp intake of breath was like the hiss of water hitting a hot surface, and the muscles in her belly tightened with yearning when his hands started to slide down her ribcage inch by deliberate inch. She waited for him to push her away…but instead he closed his fingers around her hips and drew her even more snugly into the hot cavern of his loins.
“You’re not wearing a corset.” He made it sound like an accusation, as if she had committed some cardinal sin. In his eyes she supposed she had. After all, a lady would never dare be caught without the proper undergarments. Then again, she wasn’t a proper lady.
“You didn’t realize that before?” she asked, coyly bringing her chin to her shoulder and peering up at him beneath thick auburn lashes. He met her stare fiercely, his glittering gaze filled with a lust so potent it made her knees tremble.
Fire, she warned herself dazedly. You’re playing with fire, Juliet.
And heaven help her, but how she wanted to burn.
“That was a mistake,” he said tersely.
“Why?” It was a challenge, not a question. Keeping her gaze locked on his she touched him again, fingers tracing the rigid outline of his cock through the rough fabric of his trousers. Only by the slightest widening of her eyes did she register her amazement at how large he was. Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, but the man was hung like a bloody horse! She should have been intimidated…and part of her was. But the other part, the part that would have flung her arms around his neck and dragged his mouth back down to hers if she wasn’t shackled, wanted him all the more.
“Why?” His eyebrows arched incredulously. “I’d count the reasons, but we’d be here all night. Suffice it to say you’re my prisoner, and it would be immoral.”
She wet her bottom lip with a delicate swipe of her tongue. Watched his pupils dilate and darken. Felt his muscles draw and tighten.
“Immorality didn’t stop you a few minutes ago,” she whispered.
He cursed viciously under his breath, then lifted his hand to her jaw, the pad of his thumb gently tracing the outline of her mouth. She turned until they were facing one another and the hard line in the middle of his forehead softened as he gazed down at her upturned face.
She shivered when he groaned her name and lifted her chin when his heavy stare dropped to her mouth. Anticipating another drugging kiss, she started to close her eyes…and jumped like a scalded cat when a loud knock sounded at the door.
“Hargrave, are you in there?” It was Colin, the runner from downstairs, and Juliet silently damned him straight to hell for his piss poor timing.
“Ignore it,” she said desperately, but one glance at Grant’s guarded expression and she knew she had already lost him. Whatever softness she’d managed to coax forth was gone. In the blink of an eye – or in this case, a knock on the door – they were back to what they’d always been: a thief and runner. Had she really imagined they could ever be anything else?
“Hargrave!” The knocking turned to pounding as Colin raised his voice. “We need you downstairs at once.”
“Be there in a bloody minute!” Grant snapped over his shoulder before he refocused his attention on Juliet. He released her and stepped back, his countenance unreadable save a tightness in the corners of his mouth that was rapidly spreading to the rest of his face. A tense silence stretched between them, as long as the shadows that were beginning to creep down the empty plaster walls.
“Where have you been?” he said suddenly. She could tell it wasn’t what he’d wanted to say by the quick flash of annoyance in his gaze, but he didn’t try to retract the words. “I searched everywhere.” His brow furrowed. “I feared you might be dead.”
A quick, delighted smile flitted across her lip
s as a small flame of hope ignited inside of her chest. With the exception of Bran and Yeti, no one had ever concerned themselves with her well-being before. Maybe Grant really did care for her after all. And if he did, then surely he wouldn’t go through with turning her over to the magistrate. Not that she’d ever really believed he would. How could he, after everything they’d shared? First at the ball and then on the bridge and then in a falling down tenement. True, they’d been at odds for all of those times and yes, she’d threatened to shoot him more than once…but what relationship wasn’t without its complications?
Grant chased her, she tried to stab or shoot him, they kissed, and then she ran away. It was what they did. What they would continue to do, once he came to his sense and got rid of these bloody manacles. Speaking of which…
“Do you mind?” she said, giving the heavy cuffs a rattle. “I’m all for a flashy bracelet, but these really aren’t my style.”
He looked at her oddly. “I’m not letting you go, Juliet.”
“Because of our bet? I’ll admit I don’t have the ten pounds on me, but I’m good for them. Never let it be said I’m not a thief of her – you’re serious,” she whispered when she looked up and saw the grim set of his mouth and the resigned determination in his eyes. “You’re – you’re really not going to release me?”
“No.”
The fragile hope that had flared so briefly to life sputtered and crumbled to ash, leaving her with an empty feeling in the pit of her stomach and the first genuine stirring of fear. “But – but I’ll be thrown in prison. For years.” The color leeched from her cheeks, leaving them pale as parchment. Her mouth trembled. “They might even hang me.”
“I won’t let that happen,” he said sternly before he stepped forward and gently lifted her chin, meeting her panicked gaze with his solemn one. “I promise.”
“You promise…” she said faintly. “I don’t understand. I thought there was something between us–”
“I still have to do my job, Juliet. I am a runner, first and foremost.” His Adam’s apple jerked in his throat, the only sign that he wasn’t nearly composed as he was pretending to be. “You knew the risk when you committed those crimes. You knew what might happen.”
“Yes,” she cried, “but I never thought…”
“You never thought?” he prompted when she trailed off.
“I never thought I’d be caught.” Jerking free of his grasp, she stumbled back until she hit the wall. “I don’t hurt anyone. You know I don’t.”
“You’re still breaking the law,” he said quietly.
“Bugger the law, and bugger you!” As anger began to eclipse her fear, she gathered as much of the hot, burning emotion as she could and used it to defend her bleeding heart. “You may be a runner, but you still have the power to do what’s right.”
His jaw clenched. “I am doing what’s right.”
“If you really believe that, then I have nothing else to say to you.”
“Juliet–”
“Go,” she said, turning her head to the side. “You’re needed downstairs.”
“I want to explain–”
“Explain what?” she demanded, her eyes widening as she looked back at him. “Explain how you can kiss me senseless one moment and toss me in irons the next? I thought you were different. I thought…” She shook her head, a bitter laugh forcing itself between her lips. “But it doesn’t matter what I thought, does it?”
“This was only ever going to end one way, Juliet. Surely you must have known that.” He held her damning stare for a second longer, then muttered something unintelligible and left the room, taking care to lock the door behind him.
Chapter Twenty-Two
“What is it?” Grant growled as he stormed down the stairs and into the front room where all of the runners except for Felix had gathered. While he’d been chasing Juliet around St Giles, his arch-nemesis had been getting married. By the looks of their formal attire, everyone had attended the ceremony except for him. “What the devil couldn’t wait a bloody second longer? I was questioning a prisoner.”
“A woman claims to have seen a man matching The Slasher’s description one hour ago in Haversham Square,” Owen said grimly, looking up from a large map he’d spread across the table. “Says he came up to her in the middle of the market and tried to get her to go with him into an empty shop. When she refused, he pulled out a knife.”
“Was she hurt?” Forcibly tearing his mind away from Juliet, Grant gave the captain his full attention. A violent murderer who liked to carve up his victims before murdering them, The Slasher had first appeared in London nearly five years ago. After a killing spree that left more than a dozen women slain, he’d disappeared into thin air. Everyone had hoped that he had died…but six weeks ago when a dead prostitute showed up on Felicity Atwood’s doorstep they came to grim conclusion that he’d only been in hiding.
Under Owen’s strict orders the runners had been canvassing the entire city around the clock ever since, working in a methodical grid like pattern in the hopes of flushing The Slasher out of whatever dark whole he’d slithered back into. Unfortunately, thus far all of their efforts had come to naught. If The Slasher really had been sighted in Haversham Square then this was the break in the case they’d all been waiting for.
“No, she wasn’t. Thank God. Ian was on a routine patrol nearby and heard her screaming. When she gave him a description of the perpetrator – and mentioned the knife – he immediately suspected The Slasher.”
The Slasher was renowned for killing his victims – all women – with a knife. He slit their throats and then went to work on their bodies. The results were nothing short of gruesome, and the first time Grant had seen one of the mutilated bodies firsthand he’d thrown up his dinner on the spot.
“Have we sent anyone out?” he demanded.
“I’m about to.” Grabbing a pencil, Owen drew three large squares on the map and wrote in their names as he spoke them out loud. “I want you, Hawke, and Ian to tear the entire square apart. Start in the middle, here, and work your way out. Chances are he’s already moved on, but he could also be laying low, waiting for the threat to pass. If you manage to flush him out, Archer and Colin are going to be waiting here, at the intersection of Newbury and Yates. They’ll be stopping and searching every carriage that goes past.”
“What aboot me?” Tobias Kent, a dark-haired Irishman with a thick brogue and a dark temper, had a very personal reason for catching The Slasher. His wife had been one of the bastard’s first victims.
“You’re with me,” Owen said. “We’ll head directly to Fleet Ditch. If The Slasher has left the square, that’s where he’ll most likely be. Any questions?”
To a man, every runner shook their head.
“Good. We’ll meet back here at midnight.”
Everyone scraped their chairs back and stood up in unison. Grant was the first out the door. Slightly out of breath, Ian and Hawke caught him just as he reached the end of the street. Lifting his arm, he flagged down a hackney. Given the time of day one stopped almost immediately, and after giving the driver terse orders to get to Haversham Square as fast as possible, they all piled in.
As he stared tersely out the soot covered window, Grant found his thoughts returning to Juliet. It was a dangerous thing, for a runner’s mind to be on something else when he was on a case. Particularly one as important as this. But putting Juliet completely out of his head was impossible. So was forgetting the way she had looked at him when she’d realized he was going to keep her in chains.
The pain and betrayal in her eyes…it had hit him like a punch to the gut, and it had taken everything inside of him not to go to her and gather her up in her arms. To kiss her soft lips and comb his fingers through her hair and reassure her that everything was going to be all right, that she wasn’t going to have to stand before the magistrate, that he was going to keep her safe...
But he’d done none of those things because he was a runner and it was his job �
� his sworn duty – to help the innocent and apprehend the guilty. With the exception of his family, nothing was more important to him. But if that was completely true, why couldn’t he get Juliet’s voice out of his head?
I thought you were different…
His teeth grinded together as the hackney made a sharp left and headed towards Haversham Square at a breakneck pace. The bloody truth of the matter was that he did feel different when he was around her. For all of Juliet’s faults, the greatest one was her ability to make him forget.
When he was touching her – hell, when he was within ten feet of her – everything else faded away and he wasn’t a runner or a lord. He was just a man and she was just a woman and together…together they felt right. He couldn’t think of any other way to explain it.
So what the devil was he going to do about it?
He couldn’t let her go. Not if he wanted to continue being a runner. If Owen didn’t discover what he’d done and fire him outright, his damned conscious would make him quit. And then what the devil would he do? Retire to the country and succumb to a paralyzing case of ennui? His entire life was defined by Bow Street. It was the very air he breathed. But he also didn’t know if he had it in him to turn Juliet over to the magistrate, despite what he’d said. The idea of her locked away in Newgate chilled him to the bone. She may have been a thief, but she didn’t belong in that hellhole.
Only the damned did.
It took Juliet exactly five minutes and thirty-seven seconds to pick her way out of the cuffs and unlock the door. A personal best. Rubbing her wrists where the heavy manacles had chaffed the delicate skin, she slowly opened the door a few scant inches and peered down the hallway. It was empty, with nary a single runner in sight.
Taking a deep breath, she slipped out of the holding room and tip-toed along the edge of the wall, careful to avoid any boards that looked as though they might creak beneath her weight, slight as it was. At the top of the stairs she stopped and listened, but there was only silence. Lifting up her skirts she flitted down the steps like a shadow and headed straight for the front door. It almost seemed too easy to be true, but she’d never been the sort to look a gift horse in the mouth and she wasn’t about to start now. All of the runners must have been called away on a case, which was why Grant had left her so abruptly.
A Dangerous Affair (Bow Street Brides Book 3) Page 18
