To Have A Heart (A New Adventure Begins - Star Elite Book 7)

by Rebecca King

  Callum cursed bitterly when he saw movement in the trees a few feet away from Mallory. Melrose temporarily forgotten, Callum took aim and waited for those shadows to inch closer. He couldn’t alert Mallory to the looming danger. All Callum could do was hope and pray that whoever was moving the bushes would step out so he could get a clear shot at them before she noticed she was no longer alone.

  Thankfully, they did.

  One shot was all it took.

  Mallory screamed when she heard a dull thud behind her. She turned around and gasped in horror when she saw a man lying face up on the ground. She didn’t need to look too closely at him to know that he was one of Melrose’s men. None of the Star Elite would ever look that unkempt and surly. In fact, now that she came to think about it the men from the Star Elite usually looked like urbane gentlemen. It was difficult to see them and believe that any one of them might engage in a deadly gun battle like they were at present.

  Shuffling around, Mallory turned to look at Callum again, but he was distracted by the presence of another of Melrose’s men creeping toward Melrose on the bridge. Mallory knew she couldn’t stay where she was. Moreover, she knew that the man had seen Callum. In horror, she watched Melrose’s man lift his gun straight at Callum.

  Jumping to her feet, Mallory screamed: “Callum!”

  Callum jerked and looked at her. The gunman fired. Callum flinched and ducked low. The bullet whizzed past his ear.

  Mallory stared in horror as she saw Callum fall to his knees. The gunman who had just shot at him then turned his attention to her. Mallory stared at him and backed away as he edged closer. Oliver tried to hit him but missed.

  “Mallory, get down!” Oliver commanded.

  But Mallory had no intention of falling to the floor. She prepared to run.

  In that moment, though, so did Melrose. He fired, not one gun but two. Together. At the Star Elite men, who fired back but could do little to stop his backstepping off the bridge unless they killed him. That was something Sir Hugo had ordered them not to do.

  “Sir?” Oliver demanded.

  “Not yet.”

  Oliver swore because he knew that Melrose was going for Mallory.

  “Sir.” Oliver glared at his boss.

  Sir Hugo shuffled toward the end of the bridge and pointed his gun at Melrose.

  “Stay right where you are, Melrose,” Sir Hugo commanded coldly.

  Callum wondered if Sir Hugo wanted to be assassinated. Any of Melrose’s men could take a shot right now and would kill the boss of the Star Elite.

  “Well, well, so you do have nine lives. Well, eight now,” Melrose sneered.

  He lifted a hand to warn his men not to fire upon the boss of the Star Elite – for now at least.

  “I have to confess, I thought my men had done a better job of getting rid of you,” Melrose called.

  “You should know that I am indestructible. If you get rid of me there are plenty of men who are more than willing to take my place. The Star Elite will survive,” Sir Hugo replied. “You, however, will not.”

  Melrose slowly, and quite purposefully, re-loaded his gun.

  Sir Hugo cocked his and waited, but wasn’t prepared to allow Melrose to escape, or kill him.

  “Why did you do it? You have money. You have connections. You had everything going for you. Why would you turn you back on all of it to steal lives of women?” Sir Hugo demanded.

  “Because I can,” Melrose announced. “Why not? Who in the Hell wants to spend their lives bowing and curtseying to all and sundry? Do you want me to associate with people who are nothing more than whores themselves? They whore themselves for their fortune, for the right to be able to call themselves aristocracy, and for what? They are no better than any tramp or doxy in the backstreets of London.”

  “But it wasn’t the aristocracy whose lives you stole, Melrose. You stole the lives of people who didn’t have much to steal in the first place. It is hardly a fair fight or anything to boast about. For God’s sake, man, you have been picking on women. Do you have any idea how damned weak that makes you look?”

  Melrose glared at him.

  “You really did expect half of the aristocracy to lie to protect you, didn’t you?”

  “I have been born into ton. I know things about people in high places that would ruin them in society in a way that they would never recover from.”

  “You forced people into covering for you by blackmailing them.”

  It wasn’t a question.

  “They willingly helped me,” Melrose boasted. “They received some of the profits as well.”

  “From prostitution,” Sir Hugo sneered.

  “Our little enterprise was quite profitable,” Melrose boasted. “For a while at least.”

  Mallory had never hated anybody in her life, but she did Melrose. Right there and then she wished she had a gun because, although by nature not a physically violent person, she would have shot him herself. His utter contempt for human life was deplorable.

  “Where is Mann? We know he was helping you?”

  “Mann is a damned pig,” Melrose snorted. “You will find him at home.”

  Sir Hugo knew that Melrose’s information was imparted because Mann was beyond helping the Star Elite.

  “You are prepared to end the lives of the people who have helped you as well, are you?”

  Melrose didn’t answer.

  Sir Hugo knew that he wasn’t going to get much out of the man on the bridge. He had seemingly lost his grip on his ability to contemplate things rationally and on a civilised level.

  “You have lowered yourself into blood and violence against innocent people in a way that you can never recover from. I could let you rot away quietly in prison, and rightly so given you are happy to steal the lives of other people. However, I am not prepared to risk that someone else you have blackmailed might be prepared to take underhand steps to get you free again.”

  Melrose looked up and met the eyes of his biggest adversary.

  Sir Hugo stared at him down the barrel of his gun and made sure that the shot was aimed directly between Melrose’s eyes.

  At the last moment, though, Sir Hugo knew he just couldn’t do it. He wanted to, more than anything, but he wasn’t a murderer. To kill Melrose in cold blood would be tantamount to murder, and Melrose knew it. However, Sir Hugo wasn’t prepared to allow Melrose off the hook completely either and so at the last moment, he lowered his gun and shot Melrose in the shoulder instead.

  Melrose stumbled backward from the force of the blast at such close quarters. The back of his knees slammed into the stone wall at the side of the bridge. Melrose jerked backward and tried to flail his arms to regain his balance but was already teetering precariously over the water. Gravity compelled him to topple over the stone wall that had once protected him. At the last moment, he twisted around and grabbed a hold of the top of the wall to stop himself from falling into the raving river. His gun fell into the water, leaving Melrose hopelessly disadvantaged. Melrose threw a desperate look at the water and tightened his hold while he tried to think of a way to get himself free of the mess that he was in.

  Sir Hugo ambled closer.

  “It looks like you have gotten yourself into a sorry mess,” he drawled.

  Before he managed to take three steps, the brittle stonework beneath Melrose’s hands began to crumble. Scrabbling for a better grip, Melrose wriggled and squirmed like a fish on a hook, but his desperate clawing at the aged stone only made it crumble faster.

  “I would stay still if I were you,” Sir Hugo taunted. “Do you know something? I want nothing more than to be the one to walk you into the county gaol and leave you there. Believe me when I tell you that because you are one of our high-risk prisoners only a handful of people are going to know where you will spend the rest of your miserable days. You shall have the indignity of fading into obscurity as someone most people would rather forget.”

  Melrose cursed roundly and tried to haul himself back onto the bridge, b
ut his weight only moved the uppermost stone even more until it broke free of the bridge, propelling Melrose into the water. Melrose, still staring at Sir Hugo with wide, horrified eyes, fell into the raging river still clutching the stone to his chest. Rather than being swept away by the swirling current, Melrose was pinned several feet below the surface while he took his last breath.

  Sir Hugo hurried forward and looked over the side of the bridge to the spot where Melrose lay.

  “Damn,” he snapped with a disgusted huff.

  “Boss?” Oliver asked from the riverbank.

  Before he could ask Sir Hugo if he wanted him to jump in and try to get the man free, gunfire exploded once more.

  Callum moved through the trees but was pinned down by the gunfire and prevented from getting to Mallory. Sir Hugo hadn’t forgotten her, though, or the gunman who was closest to her. Ducking low, he slowly eased to the edge of the bridge and took up position where he waited for the gunman to reach her. The second Melrose’s guard stepped free of his hiding place; Sir Hugo took his shot.

  Mallory cowered when she heard another dull thud. She looked at Callum who crawled, slithered, and slipped across the bridge toward her. Sir Hugo remained where he was, and watched Callum defy the odds to reach her. He then turned his attention to helping his men remove the last of Melrose’s gunmen.

  “You may as well surrender. Your boss cannot pay you now. He is dead,” Sir Hugo called. “Put your weapons down.”

  The gunfire stopped almost instantly as the hired thugs absorbed the news.

  “Melrose is dead,” Sir Hugo reiterated.

  “I think most of them are dead,” Callum growled.

  He hoped that was the case because he broke cover and scurried over to Mallory. Once beside her, he hauled her upright and yanked her toward a thicket. Together, they waited.

  Silence fell over them.

  For several long minutes nobody stirred.

  “Stay here,” Callum whispered.

  His gaze met Mallory’s. Apart from scared, he knew she was fine.

  “Wait.”

  “I need to check the area,” he interrupted.

  Within seconds, Mallory found herself alone again. She didn’t mind this time, though, because she knew it was only temporary.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  “Clear.”

  “Clear.

  “Clear.”

  Echoes rang around the area as each Star Elite operative checked his surroundings. Eventually, everyone confirmed there was no lingering threat from Melrose’s men.

  Sir Hugo eased painfully to his feet. He was pale and sweating and knew the battle had taken its toll. Pain thrummed through him now with such ferocity that there wasn’t an inch of him that didn’t hurt, but he didn’t have any regrets. He hobbled back to the place in the bridge where a stone was missing and looked down at the man who had nearly killed him.

  “I would say that we have to leave him there, not least because I don’t see why any of us should get wet trying to get the bastard out,” Sir Hugo growled when Oliver came to join him.

  “We cannot leave the locals to find him,” Oliver replied.

  “Are any of Melrose’s men still alive?” Sir Hugo asked.

  He looked up in time to see Phillip and Niall lead several rumpled men out of the undergrowth.

  “Get them to do it. They were employed by the bastard. They can fetch him out,” Sir Hugo growled.

  “Where are you going?” Oliver called when Sir Hugo ambled off but didn’t stop at the end of the bridge.

  “To the damned carriage,” Sir Hugo grumbled. “I need to lie down.”

  With that, he promptly disappeared.

  Callum checked the last man for signs of life before he stepped over the corpse and headed back to Mallory. Without saying a word, he hauled her out of the thorn bush and into his arms. The strength of the relief that slammed into him stole his breath. Words failed him. Instead, his emotions were conveyed by his actions.

  The second that Mallory stood up, Callum grabbed her shoulders and covered her mouth with his. Mallory couldn’t think, only feel. In that second, she gave herself over to him and clawed at his shoulders with equal fervour.

  Nothing could separate them.

  Their passion was driven by a panicked need to make sure the other half of them was all right. Together, they were complete, two halves of a whole. Their union was as essential as the air they breathed, and it was revealed in the questing hands and the ferocity of their kiss.

  Eventually, Callum lifted his head, but only so he could rest his forehead against hers.

  “God, you are something, do you know that?” he hissed. “Do you have any idea how close you came to being shot by one of his men?”

  “Do you have any idea how close to getting shot by one of his men you came?” Mallory countered.

  Her breath came in short pants, but she made no apology for it. Callum stirred her and made her want to taste him some more.

  “No,” he said when she leaned up to kiss him once more.

  Mallory glared at him in annoyance that he was already trying to put some distance between them.

  Callum saw her baleful look and sighed. He too had been shaken by the force of emotion that had just slammed into them but knew they were not able to relax just yet.

  “We have to get out of here,” Callum breathed.

  “What’s the rush?” Mallory demanded. “Melrose is dead, isn’t he?”

  Callum nodded. “But his men aren’t. Those who didn’t follow Melrose here don’t know their boss has died yet. The danger they pose to us is still real, I am afraid. Besides, we must get out of here. While Sir Hugo has done what he needed to do, he is still injured and has to get to Cornwall.”

  Callum didn’t add that he wanted to complete the journey so he and Mallory could sit down and decide upon their future.

  Emotion fuelled by growing adoration and passion made Mallory incapable of being annoyed with Callum for very long. While thwarted in her passionate endeavours, she was still held tightly against his side and that would have to suffice for now.

  “Do you have any idea how we are going to look if we are caught?” Callum growled, throwing her a rueful look. “How I am going to look? You are wearing a sodding beard.”

  Mallory began to laugh. She had worn the false beard for so long now that she had forgotten it was still on her face. Tentatively, she reached up to touch its bristles and looked at Callum with eyes that twinkled with mischief.

  “God, you are going to have me arrested,” he hissed. “Melrose’s men are going to think I am a little unusual.”

  Mallory began to laugh. “Can I take it off now?”

  “I don’t suppose you would want to keep it on, would you?” Callum asked.

  Mallory lifted her brows at him. “Oh? You prefer me to wear it?”

  “Well, it does remind me that I shouldn’t touch you,” he grumbled.

  Shaking his head in disbelief at just how easy it was to tease her and accept her teasing, Callum caught her hand in his and led her toward the waiting carriage.

  “We have to get going,” he announced.

  Happy to go anywhere with him, Mallory dutifully followed but as she did so, eased the makeshift beard way from her face. Tucking it into her cloak pocket, she tried not to look at the area mostly because she had seen enough death and carnage to last her a lifetime.

  “What happens now?” she asked.

  “Now, we continue our journey to Cornwall.”

  “What happened to the farmer?” she asked.

  Callum stopped and pointed to the bridge where the farmer was deep in conversation with Oliver.

  “I must thank him,” Mallory murmured.

  “The Star Elite will thank him for you. We are not going back there.”

  Callum had no intention of allowing Mallory to see where Melrose lay. He didn’t doubt that Melrose was what Oliver and the farmer were discussing.

  “Wait for me,” Will called. He
grinned when he joined then. “Onwards we go, eh?”

  Callum shook his head and yanked the carriage door open for Mallory to climb aboard.

  “Are you all right?” she asked a shockingly pale Sir Hugo.

  Sir Hugo barely lifted an eyelid in her direction. “I need to sleep.”

  But it was clear to Callum, Mallory, and Will, that Sir Hugo needed much more. He needed his wife and her poultices.

  “Let’s go,” Callum bit out.

  Mallory hastily climbed aboard and settled onto the bench seat opposite Sir Hugo. She immediately began to rummage through the picnic basket on the floor until she found what she was looking for.

  While Callum guided the carriage through the woods and back out onto the road, Mallory did her best to get Sir Hugo to eat and drink something before she coaxed him to lie down whereupon she covered him with a blanket.

  While he slept, she focused on the scenery passing by the window, but saw very little of it. All she could contemplate was the man who was driving the carriage, and what she was going to do when they reached Cornwall.

  Many miles later, she was awoken by a soft groan of discomfort. Jerking around, she glared at Sir Hugo who was staring out of the window. At first, she wasn’t sure that the noise hadn’t come from somewhere else. When Sir Hugo shifted and winced, she knew then that something was wrong; terribly wrong.

  “Are you all right?” she whispered.

  She tried to see him through the darkness, but he was nothing more than a shadow.

  A shadow who is in pain if that groan is anything to go by.

  Sir Hugo didn’t move, or answer.

  Mallory stared at Sir Hugo, who suddenly tried to sit up only to groan again. She thumped on the roof and called to Callum to stop.

  “Can you lie down?”

  Sir Hugo shook his head.

  “What is it?” Callum asked.

  Mallory poked her head out of the window and peered up at him.

  “Can we stop? Sir Hugo is in a lot of pain. This is too much for him,” she said. “Isn’t there a tavern or somewhere we can stop at until it is daylight again? He needs to rest and take something for the pain. Do you have any Laudanum?”