Reckless Rakes - Hayden Islington

by Bronwyn Scott

  The path began to widen, signaling that a clearing was up ahead, an open space. She reached for the pistol, drawing it out from its holster awkwardly with gloved hands and faced a new dilemma. She couldn’t wield the gun with her gloves on. But she could only have her gloves off a short time before her fingers would be too cold to be effective. Well, at least it could be a show of force if she kept it in plain sight. She’d keep her gloves on and hope for the best. Perhaps no one would realize how inept her gloves would make her.

  A form loomed ahead, a building of sorts. Hayden’s cottage, the one he’d told her about. Jenna raised her lantern to catch its shape: a cottage, old and hidden. No fire smoked from the chimney but there was light within. Was Daniel inside, taking refuge? Or was this truly the abductors’ lair as Hayden suspected, a station for their trafficking? She needed to get close to the window. She needed a plan. Jenna stepped back into the woods, thinking to tie her horse somewhere out of sight. That was when she heard it, the ominous click of a gun not hers, and the all-too familiar voice of a man she’d come to loath.

  “Welcome to our humble home, Miss Priess, we’ve been expecting you.”

  Jenna swallowed her panic and kept her gaze fixed straight ahead on the cottage. She could feel him come up behind her, her peripheral vision very aware of the raised gun in his hand. “Mr. Davenport, I thought I paid you better than that.”

  “Not when there’s more to be made.” He gave a harsh laugh. “It seems you have brought more than you need.” His hand closed over her wrist in an iron grip, relieving her of her pistol. “I’ll take that, but we’ll keep the horse. Can’t chance it going back without a rider and alerting everyone. Now, if you’ll step this way, I know someone who will be glad to see you; I know I am.”

  It was an odd sort of relief to see Daniel safely inside the cottage, although ‘safely’ was a relative term in these circumstances. She could do nothing for him. She was unarmed and they were outnumbered. Davenport had two other men with him, one large and burly, the other lean and shabbily dressed. Between them, they managed to fill up the small building. It seemed no matter where she moved, they were there.

  Davenport leered, holding up a coil of rope. “Take a seat, Miss Priess and get comfortable. It might be a long night.” He tossed another coil at one of the men. “You do the boy, Schuyler.”

  “No names!” The skinny one hissed. “You promised.”

  Davenport smirked. “They’re not going anywhere without us, who do you think they’d tell?”

  The thought of being bound horrified Jenna. She gave an involuntary step backward as Davenport approached. She’d have no freedom, no way to move. She’d be truly trapped. “I’m sure ropes are not necessary. Even if we managed to get past all three of you, it’s dark outside, too dark to run effectively. You’d capture us within minutes.”

  Davenport’s eyes held a cruel gleam. “Necessary or not, I’ve wanted to do this for a long time. It’s time for you to be at my mercy.” He grabbed for her then, his hand closing over her arm, intent on making her sit.

  She kicked him hard in the knee and raised a fist, ready to strike his face but he was too fast. His other hand closed vise-like around her wrist. He bore her back against the wall, her body hitting it with no small impact. She heard Daniel yell, “take your hands off my sister!” The skinny man cuffed Daniel across the face.

  Jenna did scream then. In her rage, desperate to get to Daniel, she kicked at Davenport again but he was too close to do any damage. Her efforts were futile against his strength.

  A deep voice filled the cottage with conversational calm “I’d advise you to do as you’re told unless you want to see your brother harmed. Now, sit.” It was the third man, the biggest of the three. Davenport moved so that she could see the efforts of her struggles. The big man held Daniel captive with a knife to his throat. Daniel was pale, his body visibly trembling.

  Jenna sat. She let Davenport bind her to the chair. There was no other choice. She knew the odd relief again when the one called Schuyler bound Daniel. He was at least away from the knife. She watched Davenport step back and survey his work, his expression entirely malicious. Gone was any veneer of politeness. Here, his brutality was unleashed and in plain sight. His hatred of her was obvious in ways it had not been before.

  Of course, she should have known. She did know. She simply hadn’t believed it, she realized, to the fullest extent of its truth. She’d seen evidence of it long before this. She’d suspected him of all nature of crimes from those done to her workers to the ones he’d committed in her ledgers. But those had only been suspicions. It was very different to know those suspicions had become fact. The only thing that mattered now was figuring out what happened next and what she had left as leverage. For that, she’d need information.

  Jenna let the room settle down before she launched her first probe. “I don’t think you would have done it.” She gave the heavy-set man a challenging stare, her head cocked in calculated defiance.

  The man met her gaze with narrow eyes, his hand running over the tip of his blade. “I hardly think that’s the sort of dare you want to make.” He glanced over at Davenport. “You’re right, this one is a spit-fire.”

  Jenna went on as if she hadn’t heard him. “There’s no money in hurting us. You can’t sell a dead boy and you can’t negotiate with one either. Hurting Daniel is like hurting yourself.”

  He gave her a leering grin. “You figured that out now, but you didn’t know that then. You sat.”

  Jenna gave what she hoped was a casual shrug. She might not have called his bluff then, but she had what she wanted now: confirmation that Hayden’s theory was right. They were working with a prostitution ring. These men might kill her and Daniel eventually, but only as a last resort, if or when, all else failed. That was leverage indeed, and more of that odd relief. If they behaved, they were in no immediate danger, only discomfort. She just had to wait it out.

  Now it was up to Hayden. The ice had held for her. She had to hope the roads had held for him. With luck, he was back at the inn right now, reading her note. But luck hadn’t been on her side lately. It might be too much to hope for.

  The roads had held. After a difficult start, Hayden and company finally turned into the main thoroughfare leading through Kendal. They’d almost had to give up after encountering a tree across the road that afternoon. They’d been able to go around but the detour had added two hours to their journey. He was dirty and tired and he wanted to see Jenna with a sense of urgency that had driven him to continue on when Logan would have stopped. He needed to see her. It was rather inexplicable, he had no proof for it, but something in his bones had pushed him onward today. Logan had been irritable over the decision but Hayden had pressed his point. He would not stop until he was home.

  ‘Home’ had been a rather contentious word when he’d voiced that sentiment out loud earlier in their trip. Logan had scoffed at the notion he considered Kendal ‘home.’ They had quarreled when Hayden reasserted his decision to stay behind when Logan left for London in a few days. Carrick had kept the peace long enough for Hayden to win the race, long enough for them make a success of Keswick and put the winnings in their pockets. It was the last race of the season without a doubt. The ice had been wet although still solid enough, but just barely. As they approached the outskirts of Kendal, Hayden wondered how the ice on Lake Kendal had fared.

  They rode into the inn yard and turned their horses over to the ostler. Carrick slapped Logan on the back and was already talking about ordering ale by the time they stepped inside. But the threesome hadn’t gone two steps into the taproom when Hayden saw him; a frail man, wrapped in an expensive wool coat and leaning heavily on a cane in a seat near the door. Jenna’s father. Julius Priess. The sense of urgency that had ridden the road with him flooded back. Hayden strode forward with quick steps to keep the man from rising. He looked to be at the end of his strength and Hayden wondered what effort had compelled him to come to the inn when he hadn’t e
ven been downstairs in his own home until last week?

  “Julius, what are you doing here?” Hayden gripped the man’s hand, feeling Logan and Pierce at his back.

  Julius’s face was pale. From illness or from worry? “Daniel is missing and Jenna has gone to look for him.” One thin hand held up the short note as proof. “Mr. Frye tells me she took a horse and a gun with her. I don’t know where she went, though.”

  “I do.” How he managed to keep his voice even and confident was something of a miracle. Hayden’s mind raced. A gun, dear lord in heaven, what did she think had happened to Daniel? But he knew what she suspected and by extension, he knew where she’d gone. Jenna feared the worst and she’d gone to investigate the cottage. If she was right, she’d be in for more trouble than she could handle and the very thought drove spears of panic into his stomach.

  He squeezed the older man’s shoulder, feeling its thinness even through the thickness of the coat. “I need you to wait here in case she comes back.” He gestured to Frye. “Find Mr. Priess a parlor and build up the fire.” Hayden turned to Carrick. Logan had quietly removed himself and was nowhere to be seen; perhaps not surprising considering the tension of the weekend. “Will you come? I need at least one other rider.”

  Carrick grinned. “Do you even need to ask? Logan’s already gone for the horses before the ostler can get them unsaddled.” He clapped Hayden on the back. “You underestimate him if you think Logan would desert you. C’mon, let’s go rescue a damsel in distress.”

  Not too much distress, Hayden hoped, and not just any damsel. This was the woman he loved. This was the woman he was willing to re-make his life for, only she didn’t know it. He wished she did. He wished he had told her that last night. But if wishes were horses…

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Beggars would ride. A weary Guerre waited for Hayden in the courtyard. He swung up recognizing the horse had already put in a long day but this couldn’t wait. Even tired, Guerre was the only horse he trusted out on a melting lake in full dark.

  Logan led the way on horseback, holding a lantern high once they left the lights of town behind. Hayden cursed the slower pace they were forced to keep, but there was nothing for it. Heedless speed meant risking injury to horse and rider alike in the dark and there was no help for Jenna in that. “You know this might be exactly what Davenport has been angling for.” Logan voice was quiet beside him.

  Hayden nodded. Worry filled him anew. He’d already thought of that. Taking Daniel signaled the end game. Davenport knew exactly what he risked by abducting the mill owner’s son. Daniel could be ransomed for security; Daniel’s safety for Davenport’s secrets. He might have been able to handle that reality with some level of objectivity but the idea that Jenna could now be part of that equation, ruined any hopes of objectivity. What would Jenna do to free her brother, to protect him and perhaps the other boys? Jenna was a fierce protector but she was no match for Davenport’s evil.

  Evil negotiated in wicked nuances that often escaped the saner mind. To have Logan speak his very thoughts out loud confirmed it, made it more real. He was suddenly gripped with the need to confirm something more positive, more important than fear. “Logan, I love her.”

  Logan looked at him with a wry grin. “I know. We’ll find her. Just keep your wits about you and above all, think.” He knew what that meant. Think like an investigator, like a man in control, not a man desperately in love. The latter would get Jenna hurt or worse.

  They reached the shore of the lake and pulled up. This was the most direct path towards the tracks he’d seen but there’d been a lot of traffic here from his lessons and he had no way of knowing Jenna had crossed here. Hayden swung off Guerre and walked out gingerly, testing the ice with his weight; three yards, five yards, fifteen yards from shore. He came back shaking his head. “I don’t like it. The ice isn’t stable. This has always been the weakest part of the lake.” It stood to reason it would be the first to go once a serious thaw set in.

  His gut was in a perpetual clench over the thought of Jenna in her inexperience crossing the lake here. Sure, the distance wasn’t extraordinarily wide but people had drowned closer to shore when ice cracked. Getting out of an ice hole took a special skill and quick thinking, something that was difficult to do when one was in that hole with a panicked horse that outweighed you. “I go on alone from here. Guerre and I can pick our way across, finding the sturdy places.”

  He’d walk ahead of Guerre. It would take longer, but it would be safe. What went unspoken was the return. If they had to flee, there would be no time to walk carefully across, to study each step. Would the ice hold if Guerre had to run? And not just Guerre. Frye had said Jenna had taken a horse and there would be Daniel to consider. Guerre could carry two but not three.

  “If you can make it, I can make it.” Carrick refused to be left behind.

  “I’ll wait here to see you back across safely.” Logan said.

  Hayden’s voice was gruff with emotion at his friends’ offers. “Much appreciated.” Anything could go wrong out on melting ice. He didn’t want to risk Carrick but it would be good to know someone capable had his back and that someone capable was waiting to coach them across or to pull them out.

  “Alright, Carrick, let’s go.” He grabbed Guerre’s reins and led the big white horse out on to the ice. His heart pounded out its desire in every careful step: let her be safe, let the boy be safe, let the ice be safe. They made for the shore and he knelt in the snow on the less traveled far side and saw irrefutable evidence that Jenna’s horse had come that way. He added to that desperate list of wishes, let me be enough.

  She was not the only one to have passed that way, just the latest. The path was well and freshly used with no thought to discretion. Jenna and whoever had else had traveled this way had one thing in common — the need for haste had outweighed the need for secrecy. It also meant the cottage was not abandoned. Jenna would run into someone there. If his suspicions were right, it wouldn’t be a friendly someone.

  Hayden inventoried his resources. There was he, Carrick and Jenna… when they caught up to her. That meant three guns. Against how many? Was there one man at the cottage, two? Would there be other captives? If so, that would be additional allies if they weren’t scared witless already. Captives became very willing allies once freed. If so, the numbers would be against the kidnapper or did he have help? How much? Would they stand and fight or would they run? He hoped for the latter. Sending them scurrying into the dark was all he needed. Justice could wait. He needed Jenna safe above all else and flying bullets had the ability to find the most errant of targets.

  They neared the cottage and Hayden motioned for Carrick to put out the lantern. There was light ahead and any hopes he had that they would find nothing at the cottage were abruptly extinguished. Hayden removed the glove on his right hand and flexed his hand around the butt of his pistol. His luck had held so far. The ice had held. He whispered the litany to himself like a charm; Let her be safe. Let the boy be safe. Whatever lies beyond that door, let me be enough.

  He was being ridiculous. He would be enough. He’d faced personal danger before. He’d saved others before when it came to physical danger. He would save Jenna if that was needed. But those other times had been under objective circumstances. He’d not been in love with them. He’d not wanted to build his life with them. His hand closed and opened again around the pistol. God, what a time to realize it. How frightening to think it had taken these moments of risk and panic to admit to it, to let the realization fill his soul. So be it. He’d gone and fallen in love. Again. But this time with a woman who was worthy of the emotion and more than worthy of the man.

  “Hay- !”

  Hayden turned sharply in the saddle to see Carrick knocked off his horse by a form launched out of the trees.

  “Carrick!” Hayden swung his pistol arm up in the general direction of Carrick’s attacker only to have his efforts met with the ominous click of a pistol from in front of him.
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  “Stop squirming, Islington or I might hit the horse instead.” It was definitely in front of him. Guerre snorted and shifted beneath him. Hayden put his hands up and turned slowly in his saddle. The light of the cottage illuminated the man standing on the path enough to determine his identity.

  “Don’t do anything foolish, Davenport.”

  “I’m not the one who has gone out looking for trouble in the dark. Your woman isn’t the smartest of females and it seems you aren’t either.” Davenport waved the pistol. “Toss your pistol into the bushes over there and dismount.”

  If he had been alone, he might have considered hesitating in order to test the level of Davenport’s determination. Would he really shoot? But there were too many potential victims out here in the dark woods; Carrick, the horses. Davenport didn’t strike him as a man who held animals in high regard. Hayden tossed the pistol and swung off.

  Hayden kept his hands behind his head and stepped into the clearing. These next moments were critical. He would give in to Davenport’s commands as long as it got him closer to Jenna. Davenport’s eyes raked him, assessing, determining. With him dead, Jenna was entirely in Davenport’s power. More than that, her family and the mill were as well. But dead bodies were investigated. Dead bodies provoked questions. It would be hard to explain him dead, Jenna and the boy missing.

  “Not yet, Davenport. If you’re smart, you’ll wait.” Hayden warned.

  “How do you know what I’m thinking?” Davenport snapped with a menacing growl.

  “Your face isn’t so hard to read.” Hayden managed a derisive chuckle. On his periphery there was movement. Hayden caught a glimpse of Carrick being dragged towards the cottage by his heels, out cold. One less ally. He was on his own.

  “Get inside.” Davenport jerked the pistol towards the door. But Hayden had other ideas. It was just he and Davenport. One on one. Who knew what he’d find inside. His odds might not get any better than that. He just needed Davenport to wave that pistol one more time.