Burning for the Baron

by Alyson Chase

  “I must admit I don’t understand what it is you find appealing in her,” Molly said from behind him. “But I’m so glad that you do care. It makes it that much more satisfying killing a person when someone who loves them is there to watch.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  The man holding the knife to Colleen jerked his head, indicating Max should step back, and he obeyed. Max’s gaze was transfixed on the knife, that three-inch length of steel that could destroy his future.

  “It’s going to be all right,” Max said. Trying to reassure Colleen or himself, he didn’t know.

  She nodded and lifted her chin. If Max didn’t know her better, he would think she wasn’t afraid. As though having a man hold a knife to her was an everyday occurrence. But he did know her better. Saw the slight quiver of her lips before she set them into a firm line. Saw her hands clench into fists beneath the cuffs of her cousin’s old coat.

  The group of them marched to the altar. Molly, Max, Colleen and her captor. “This church, hell, this entire city block, is surrounded by government men,” Max said. “You’re only rational choice is to give yourself up.”

  “All those men are currently battling my own.” Molly stepped up on the altar and lifted a taper from a three-pronged candelabra. “I practically have my own army. But thanks for your concern. Besides, I love this church. It’s so peaceful.” She took a deep breath and sighed. “Even after your men blocked off all the underground tunnels that I used months ago, I still came here for the quiet.”

  “You worked at the club.” Colleen tugged at the arm her captor still held, but the man jerked her back into his chest. She frowned. “Why write to me asking for information on the members? You most likely knew more about them than I did.”

  “Why not?” Raising the candle high, Molly stepped close, the flame throwing flickering shadows on Colleen’s face. “You annoyed me, so it seemed fitting to involve you. Also, if the manager of The Black Rose was giving me information, no one would wonder how I came to know the secrets that went on behind those walls.”

  Max nodded. “Putting Madame Sable, and then Colleen, on your payroll deflected attention away from you. Smart.”

  Molly dropped a low curtsy. “Why, thank you, my lord.”

  “Trying to kill her when you invited her to this very same church would have ruined that deception, however.” Glancing at the front doors, Max prayed for a miracle to burst through. They remained shut. “That wasn’t so smart.”

  Molly snorted. “When I sent her that note?”

  Max nodded and inched closer to Colleen. The man holding her adjusted his grip on the knife, and the blade twisted against her waistcoat. Max’s lungs froze.

  “I wasn’t going to do her in then.” Molly ran her fingers through the candles’ flames, her gaze transfixed on the flickering fire. “My man was just going to offer her more money for information.”

  Colleen dipped her chin and raised an eyebrow, giving Max a look.

  He pressed his lips together. Yes, she’d been right about Zed’s motives, but this was hardly the time to tell him ‘I told you so.’

  “When I had the club attacked, I definitely wanted her gutted then, however. Her and that backstabbing American.” Molly cracked her neck and stared at Colleen, her eyes as flat as a dead fish’s. “You shouldn’t have threatened to dismiss me. You shouldn’t have insulted me so.”

  Colleen’s jaw dropped. “I didn’t insult you. I rebuked you, and it was well-deserved. You can’t kill someone over a well-deserved rebuke.”

  Max shifted closer to the man holding Colleen, closer to the knife. “Don’t bother arguing with a madwoman. You’ll never win.”

  “I’m rich, beautiful, and powerful.” Molly shrugged gracefully. “I believe I would be called eccentric rather than mad. Now,” she said, raising an eyebrow, “I know how much you enjoy fire. Don’t you think Mrs. Bonner would look lovely all aglow?”

  Before Max could stop her, Molly stooped over and touched the flame to Colleen’s skirts.

  “No!” Max roared, jerking forwards.

  Colleen kicked out, her boot knocking the candle from Molly’s hand and catching the lunatic on her shoulder.

  Molly fell to the ground, her rear end hitting the floor hard. She narrowed her eyes. “Cut her throat!”

  The world slowed. Max saw the blade inch towards Colleen’s neck, but he was too far away to stop it, too sluggish. A side door banged open, and Max didn’t care if it were friend or foe coming through. He stared into Colleen’s deep blue eyes, drowning in their depths.

  She blinked, and the world snapped into motion. Colleen twisted, grabbing the man’s wrist, using her body weight to pull his arm down.

  Max kicked Molly aside. Seeing the knife arc back towards Colleen’s neck, he grabbed the blade, putting a barrier between it and her skin. Ignoring the sting to his palm and fingers, he wrenched the assailant’s arm up and pulled Colleen away.

  There was a shout, a pistol fired, but Max focused on pounding the man beneath him unconscious. When the man went limp, Max tossed him aside and whirled to face his next challenge. St. Katherine’s had filled, men pouring in from every entrance, a battle royal between Molly’s men and the Crown’s. Energy flooded his body and his limbs screamed for action. Max’s gaze found Colleen, huddled in a pew next to an unconscious body, safe from the fray.

  A man he didn’t recognize rushed past, and Max grabbed the back of his collar and throttled him to the ground. One stomp to the jaw later, and he turned for the next target.

  Summerset rolled past him down the aisle.

  Max gave him a hand up. “You took your bloody time getting here.”

  “Zed has a fucking army out there.” Summerset brushed dirt off his sleeve. “The man had us pinned down from every direction.”

  “Woman.” Max shoulder-checked Summerset as a foot soldier took aim at his friend from the altar. Max leveled his own pistol and took the man down. “Zed is Molly from The Black Rose.”

  Summerset stumbled. “What? You must be joking.”

  Sweeping the leg of a man battling with Montague, Max shook his head. “I wish I were. But our criminal mastermind is none other than the chit who likes to whip men till they beg.” Max spun, looking for his next opponent. “We were all just too blind to see it.”

  “I did say it could be a woman.” Summerset looked over Max’s shoulder, his eyes going wide, and threw his blade. A body thumped to the floor behind Max.

  “But you didn’t actually believe it.”

  Summerset shrugged, and they both turned and engaged more opponents.

  The fight wound down. Liverpool’s men began dragging out those still living of Zed’s army. Shaking the sting from his cut hand, Max zeroed in on the mastermind herself, standing behind a table on the altar.

  “Now do you believe it’s over?” Max asked. He and his friends stepped forwards, forming a wall. “Put down your weapon, woman, and give yourself up. There’s no other option.”

  She circled the table. Her hand was steady as she swung a pistol in a line between Max and his friends. “There are several options available, you just don’t see them. I do.”

  “Only one of them ends with you walking out of here alive.” Max took a step forwards, hand outstretched. “Give me the gun.”

  “Careful,” Rothchild said. He raised his own weapon, joining Montague and Summerset in leveling on Molly. But Max could read the hesitation in their eyes. They’d faced much bloodshed in battle, but never had they shot a woman. Hurting one went against their nature, even if she was a crime lord.

  Max took another step. “Molly, you’re an intelligent woman. Think in the long term. Surrendering now is your best option.”

  She tilted her head. “Oh, I have thought of all my options. In the second it took you to come that one step closer, every possibility has flown across my mind. There is only one choice I’ll be happy with.” She smiled and threw her shoulders back, tipping her chin up high. “Inflicting as much damage as
possible before I go down.”

  Max steeled himself. He saw it in her eyes. She was going to shoot him, and there was nothing he could do. His friends wouldn’t pull their triggers in time. After she shot him, one of them would take her down, but not before.

  He looked up at the stained-glass window high above the altar, not wanting Molly’s face to be the last thing he saw. His last thought before the gun went off was that at least Colleen would be safe.

  The reverberation of the shot echoed around the stone chamber, and Max frowned. There should be pain. He blinked, looked down, and saw Molly’s slight form crumpled on the altar, a circle of blood staining the stomach of her silk gown.

  Shoulders unclenching, Max turned, wondering which of his friends had taken the shot. The three men had their pistols pointed at the ground and were staring down the aisle at Colleen.

  She lowered her arm, smoke drifting from the barrel of her gun. Tossing the used weapon on the body of an unconscious man, she shuddered. “This belongs to him.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Colleen tapped her fingers along the rim of her glass, the brandy within untouched. She’d sat with the same glass of liquor for the past two hours, ensconced in a chair in Max’s sitting room, as government men came and went. Each of Max’s three friends had given statements of the events, all glancing her way when they came to the end of their tales.

  She’d killed someone. And this time, it hadn’t been an accident. She’d found a weapon in the man’s pocket, pulled it free, and aimed at Molly’s head. When it had become apparent that she was going to shoot Max, Colleen had pulled the trigger. Without hesitation. Without remorse.

  What kind of person was she?

  Max had placed her in the chair when he’d brought her to his house. Had given her a drink ‘to settle her.’ And had left her alone since. Probably too disgusted to even look upon her face.

  The Earl of Summerset took a seat across from her and crossed one leg over the other. He fingered one of the artfully coiled locks of hair that curled across his brow. “That was a nice shot. Have much practice with weapons?”

  Colleen pursed her lips. “I was aiming for her head. I think I hit quite a bit lower.”

  “Still.” Picking up a decanter from the low table that lay between them, the earl poured himself a glass. “How are you faring?”

  What an odd question. “I am unharmed. Molly’s the one who’s dead.”

  “It’s never easy.” He leaned forwards. “I only wish I had taken the shot, saving you from it.”

  The backs of her eyes burned. This conversation didn’t make sense. Why should she be saved from anything?

  Summerset raised his glass. “To the living.” He lifted it to his lips and paused. “I made a toast, now you take a sip.”

  Colleen followed suit, ignoring the fact she detested the taste of brandy. The liquid burned a path down her throat and cleared some of the fog from her mind.

  Tossing his drink back, Summerset slammed his glass on the table. “You might not think it now, but everything will look better in the morning.”

  The Duke of Montague and the Earl of Rothchild joined them. “Trying to get the poor girl half-sprung?” Montague asked. “I think she’s had it rough enough without you pursing her. Sutton won’t appreciate it.”

  Summerset smoothed the tail of his cravat down his chest. “Sutton isn’t here, and she is.” He gave a pointed look to the duke. “Alone.”

  Tracing the rim of her glass with her thumb, Colleen sighed. “You don’t need to keep me company. I’m all right.”

  “Of course, you are,” Rothchild said. “But that doesn’t mean that after an evening like tonight, you wouldn’t want some companionship. I think we all need another drink after tonight.” He fixed the duke and himself glasses and topped up Colleen’s and Summerset’s. “To the end of Zed.” He held his glass up.

  “To friends having one’s back.” Montague raised his glass.

  Summerset crossed one leg over the other. “To adventures that come out right in the end.”

  They looked at her expectantly. She was supposed to come up with a toast now, too? She had a hard enough time just sitting there quietly, not turning into a puddle of sniffles and tears. Now they expected poetry?

  She lifted her own glass, her hand trembling. “To lucky shots.” To saving Max. Even if that confirmed in his mind just the type of woman she was. She threw back the liquor and bent over coughing.

  A warm hand rubbed her back. Max’s hand. She jumped out of her chair in surprise.

  “Sorry.” He lifted his palms, his left one wrapped in a thick bandage. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

  She coughed a couple more times into her sleeve. Clearing her throat, she said, “I didn’t hear you come in.”

  “I’ve never been far.” Max poured a glass of water and gave it to her. “Just dealing with business in another room.”

  She swallowed the cool draught, but it did nothing to alleviate her sudden thirst. Why was he looking at her like that? Gone was the indifferent stare of the night before when he’d told her to leave. She’d expected disgust. Perhaps gratitude at saving his life. Not … admiration?

  “Well, I think it’s time we all went home.” Montague clapped his hands together. “I know my wife and Rothchild’s will be worrying.”

  Summerset settled back in his chair. “There’s no one to worry over me. I think I’ll have another drink.”

  The duke grabbed Summerset under the elbow and yanked him to his feet. “Don’t make me hurt you.”

  “Well, I should at least see if Mrs. Bonner needs an escort home.” Summerset turned to her and dipped his head. “My carriage awaits, madam.”

  Max growled. “What the devil—”

  “Thank you. I was on my way to my cousin’s house in Wapping when I was taken.” Colleen put her glass down. “It’s long past time he expected me.” Fatigue tugged at her eyelids. She desperately needed a good night’s sleep. Maybe then she could understand what Max was about.

  “You’re going back to your cousin’s?” Max planted himself in front of her. “You detested that man’s house.”

  “I never said that.”

  “You didn’t have to.” Planting his hands on his lean hips, Max bent over her. “I could just tell.”

  “And now his home seems like the better alternative.” Swaying slightly, Colleen tried to gather her strength. Every muscle in her body drooped, aching for rest. Even the two-foot space on her nieces’ bed seemed appealing. She’d sleep so deeply she wouldn’t even feel Mary’s nightly kicks. Head down, she stepped around Max and gave Summerset a weak smile. “I’m ready when you are.”

  Max glowered. “I need everyone to get out of my house, right now.” He gripped her elbow. “Except you.”

  Staring at the carpet, Colleen waited until the men filed out. The door to the sitting room clicked shut behind them. “I’ve asked Lucy to run the club until you find a new manager. Although I’d recommend you give her a try. She’s impressed me with her competence.”

  “I couldn’t care less about The Black Rose at the moment.” He circled around her, his very nearness making the fine hairs on the back of her neck stand on end.

  “No, I don’t suppose your club is at the top of your concerns. Not after a night like tonight.” She could scarcely meet his gaze, glancing everywhere but at him directly. “Even in your line of work it can’t be every day you witness a woman murder another.”

  He stopped behind her, his chest brushing her shoulders. “You hold a strange definition of murder. Molly was about to shoot me.”

  “And instead I shot her.” An act she couldn’t regret. Not like the fire that had killed her husband. But now she was responsible for the loss of two lives. Max hadn’t been able to forgive the one. “I’m sure you’re grateful, but I don’t need any thanks. I don’t want to prolong our farewell any longer than it needs to be.” She turned and looked up at him. He hadn’t shaved that day and a thick stubb
le darkened his cheeks and jaw. A hint of the man she’d first met. Her fingers tingled with the urge to reach up and stroke his face. Instead, she raised her hand chest high. “Let’s shake goodbye and part as friends.”

  Max looked at her hand, eyes narrowing. “Friends?”

  Oh, God, he didn’t even want that. A giant fist grabbed her around the middle and squeezed, wringing the air from her body, crushing her until it felt as though her heart would burst.

  He despised her.

  Trembling, she lowered her hand.

  Max grabbed it before she could turn tail and run. Encircling her wrist, he whipped it behind her back and pulled her body snug against his. “Are you so daft as to think that we could only ever be friends? That I’d let you walk out that door and out of my life?”

  The vise around her chest loosened, and a sob burst from her lips before she could control it. Blood pounded behind her temples. “But you wanted me to leave. Last night, you said—”

  “Don’t repeat it.” One hand held her in place against his body, the other skimmed up her spine. “And if we’re to have a successful future together, you’ll have to learn to ignore half of what I say. I can be a bit of a numbskull. Ask any of my friends.”

  “Are you saying you forgive me?”

  “When I thought about it, I realized there wasn’t much to forgive. Your husband’s death was an accident. It was a mistake not to tell the magistrate, but you must have been scared.”

  She bit her lip. “I should have told you. Not let you believe you were responsible.”

  “Yes, but when?” He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “You wouldn’t tell me something like that until you trusted me completely. I should have taken your admission as the honor it was. I’ll regret till the day I die how I reacted.”

  Hope reared its head and stole her breath. But she’d been here before. Laid her heart bare. His touch was clouding her mind when she needed to think clearly. Stepping away, she turned to the glass wall separating the conservatory from the sitting room. She walked forwards until she felt the cool glass against her palms.