Chapter 28
Finn paced the simple room in the building he’d taken over. Where the hell was Brian Kelly? He should have been back by now. Surly and Clarkson too. Finn had sent them out to ensure Croft showed, that he brought his associates with him, and that he would not do anything stupid.
First sign of trouble, and Finn intended to send Murry back to him, one ear poorer.
As it was, the man was proving to be more trouble than he was worth.
His attempt at escape had nearly met with success.
Only the stranglehold Liam and Nolan carried out together had rendered the brute unconscious.
After which Finn himself had inspected the bindings that held him.
A temporary solution until Finn decided to use the man as a warning for Croft to be wiser the next time Finn gave him the chance to recover his precious wife.
The desired effect was of course to get Croft to cooperate.
Once he’d been brought to his knees in front of Finn and made to beg before those who’d pledged their allegiance to him — made to look pathetic in front of them all — a quick shot to the head would ensure that he never crossed Finn’s path again.
His wife would have to go too, though not until she’d served her purpose in bringing Croft to heel.
Soon.
He glanced at his pocket watch once again.
The meeting was set to take place in ten minutes, but heading out before Brian confirmed all was well would be reckless.
He had to wait. Maybe Croft had proven a fool after all.
That would explain the delay in Surly and Clarkson’s return. If Croft had laid a trap of his own.
Finn considered.
He considered the men who remained with him. Sean, Patrick, Liam, and Nolan. And made his decision. “If Kelly doesn’t walk through that door in five minutes, we’re cutting the valet’s ear off.”
“And the wife?” Sean asked with a smirk.
“She’ll be led through the street like a dog on a leash,” Finn replied. He would take pleasure in bending that bitch to his will. In watching Croft made to feel just as helpless as Finn had felt when he’d learned his father had died. Murdered by that bastard’s hand.
Additional seconds ticked by and Finn took another look at his watch.
He briefly considered sending two more men out to see what had happened, only to think better of it.
If Surly and Clarkson hadn’t returned yet, chances were they wouldn’t.
Which meant they were probably dead. He could only hope the same would not be true of Brian.
Nevertheless, it was time for him to act. “Patrick. You’re with me. Let’s go get that ear so Croft understands he’s no longer in charge. In the meantime—”
Glass shattering somewhere upstairs made him freeze. Jaw tight, he looked toward the entryway, then to his remaining men. “Liam and Nolan, go see what that was.”
The men loped off, bounded up the stairs, and disappeared into the room where they’d locked away Mrs. Croft. Thuds sounded along with shouts and grunts. A fight. Maybe Croft had located the building and breached it.
Finn considered his options. If things went truly wrong, an explosion would follow.
He’d put Croft’s former associate, Chapman, on it.
The man had left earlier and gone to one of the nearby buildings.
All of the ones in the area surrounding the meeting spot had been rigged with explosives.
The only thing needed was one spark from a flint.
As the clock ticked down, as things turned more dire, as it looked less and less likely the meeting would go according to plan, Chapman would know to strike. It was all part of Finn’s strategy to get out of there with his life intact should his plan turn to dust.
Until then he would count on his men to help him eliminate any threats that entered this building.
* * *
Still bound to the chair she'd been confined to since attacking O’Leary the previous day, Samantha watched as events unfolded.
She could scarcely believe what was taking place in front of her.
Melody had crashed through the window, and Holly had followed swiftly on her heels.
Together they were now fighting off the men who’d responded to the noise.
With one eye partially swollen shut and a cut near the other thanks to the most recent beating from O’Leary, Samantha watched the ongoing fight.
It felt like she was one giant bruise. Her lip was split open too, her cheeks ached all the way to the bone, and her throat still throbbed from having it squeezed so tightly, she thought O’Leary would crush her windpipe.
Hell, her eyes stung just thinking about it.
Holly’s fist shot toward the man who attacked her while Melody swung her blade at her own assailant. Blood sprayed through the air, some of it splashing across Samantha's lap. She pulled air into her lungs. A soft gasp, though not from concern but rather from hope.
Melody’s opponent attempted to grab her arm, but she foresaw the attack and spun sideways. Swift as lightning, she turned and thrust one of her steel blades straight into the side of his gut.
Face dark with fury, he reached for her, but she dropped to the ground, pivoted, and leaped back toward him.
Even as he tried to land a punch to her face, she dodged it with perfection.
He muttered a curse. Though she'd managed to strike him, the wound wasn't severe enough to disable him completely.
She tried again but he sidestepped, while Holly found herself caught in a headlock by the brute she was fighting. Samantha watched as Holly reached down and pulled a knife from her boot. Sweeping her arm in an upward arc, she shoved it into his chest.
A howl of pain tore through the room, distracting his colleague enough for Melody to gain the upper hand on her opponent. She slashed her blade across his torso in three rapid moves.
He too cried out, his bulky figure teetering backward, away from the danger Melody posed. Holly’s attacker, meanwhile, had dropped to one knee, his hand clutching his chest as air wheezed in and out of his mouth.
“Kill them,” he rasped, eyes blazing with rage. “Kill them all.”
But his comrade was in no position to do such a thing. Instead, he made a wild reach for the door behind him. His hand slipped on the doorknob and he fell, crashing onto the floor, legs splayed out before him.
“Untie me,” Samantha said, addressing her friends.
Working as one, Melody and Holly made quick work of the cords that strapped Samantha to the chair. They fell away, allowing her to rotate her sore wrists. The restraints on her ankles were cut away too, and she finally pushed herself onto her feet.
The wounded men stared at her, their eyes wide with fear as she surveyed them both.
“Please,” Melody’s opponent stammered. “We was just followin’ orders.”
“No,” she said, her voice flat and cold. “You enjoyed watching me suffer.”
“That ain’t true,” said the man who sat by the door.
Lacking the energy required to argue, Samantha merely turned one hand toward Melody and waited for her to give her a weapon. The solid hilt of a dagger settled smoothly against her palm, and Samantha drew a deep breath as she curled her fingers around it in a firm grasp.
She felt better already.
“Please,” both men now whimpered, but there was no pity for them in her heart. They would have killed both Melody and Holly if given the chance. They would likely have killed her next, and with her, the child she carried.
So she crossed the floor in her mud-stained silk slippers, and finished Melody’s opponent off with a swift slash to his throat.
“No!” His colleague screamed as he started scrambling about in a futile attempt to flee. “Help! O’Leary!”
But no help arrived before he too was sent off to hell, his blood dripping from the blade that now hung at Samantha’s side. She’d never felt number inside or more ready to kill anyone who stood in her path.
“You returned from Italy just in time,” Samantha told Melody before shifting her gaze to Holly, then back to Melody. “Thank you for coming.”
When both women stared at her mutely, she realized they were probably shocked by her battered appearance. Which reminded her… “I want to carve the Irish bastard behind all of this into pieces,” she said. “Help me move this body away from the door.”
“You shouldn’t be going after him when you’re wounded,” Melody said, her voice gentle, almost careful.
“Don’t try and stop me,” Samantha warned.
“But—”
“He did this,” Samantha snapped, cutting Holly off while gesturing to her own face. “And I want him to pay.”
Neither Holly or Melody moved. They shared a brief look and finally nodded.
“Very well,” Melody said. “Let’s go find him.”
They worked to shove the heavy man blocking the door out of the way. As soon as he was rolled to the side, Samantha pulled the door open, stepped onto the landing, and proceeded toward the stairs.
It was time for her to show O’Leary how wrong he’d been not to kill her when he’d had the chance.
* * *
Wrapped in her favorite cloak to help ward off the cold and the rain, Gabriella alighted from the carriage that had brought her and the two Runners to Number 17 Shoe Lane.
The street was dimly lit with the gaslights distributed at each end and no other light in between.
It wasn’t nearly as populated as Gabriella had thought it would be.
In fact, there were no other people about.
“I recommend you stay behind us,” Lewis told her.
Anderson seconded his opinion and Gabriella agreed. While the pistol she carried added extra weight to her cloak’s right pocket, it was a welcome relief, having it on her.
“Ready?” Lewis asked her.
“Yes.” This was where Mr. Proctor Kipling was supposed to be living. If he’d caught the killer’s attention, it was crucial they warn him. A sign hanging above another doorway farther along creaked on its hinges. An indication the wind was picking up.