Chapter 18 #2
‘Don’t come any closer,’ he snarled. Bella was sobbing in earnest now, and for a second all she could see were black shapes, until miraculously, one of them transformed into her father.
‘I swear I’ll blow ‘er bloody brains out if yer don’ back off right now.’ Barely registering her captor’s words, Arabella nevertheless understood exactly what he was pressing against her head. Nausea flooded over her in a wave as she found herself being walked forward.
‘We’re goin’ to walk through ‘ere wi’out anyone tryin’ ter stop us,’ he announced, his voice alive with malice.
‘I reckon me boss ain’t goin’ ter be very ‘appy to know yer leavin ‘im so soon.’ He gave an exaggerated shake of his head, saying, ‘naughty, naughty.’ Then abruptly looked up and yelled, ‘Jacob, you in there?’
Hearing the shout, the three men stilled. ‘Jackson,’ John Thorpe growled. ‘Is he trying to alert the entire bloody neighbourhood?’
‘He’s late. Could there be something wrong?’ Drayton frowned.
‘Most likely walked into a damn bush in the dark,’ Thorpe scoffed. ‘The chawbacon would be late for his own funeral.’
‘He had a small errand to do for me,’ Jacob countered smoothly, ‘and it won’t take long to brief him on his next job.’
‘Muriel,’ Thorpe guessed.
‘I think we are about done here,’ Jacob added. ‘Jackson will be responsible for moving the chits tomorrow, so once he’s been briefed, we’ll go our separate ways.’ He gave a sudden frown. ‘Where the devil is the imbecile?’
The three men instinctively looked towards the broken back door, and Ben realised their delayed associate must have come across the others.
A second later he was moving, barrelling towards John Thorpe, who he instinctively recognised as the most immediate threat. He’d almost reached his target when they finally registered his sudden appearance.
There was a single suspended moment of astonishment, then Thorpe’s hand went for the pistol at his belt and Benedict’s went for Thorpe’s wrist.
What followed was neither elegant nor brief. Thorpe was both very strong and entirely without compunction. As the two men grappled, they crashed into the dresser, tipping the lamp onto the floor and plunging the room into darkness.
The gun clattered somewhere to Ben’s right.
He collected an elbow in the jaw that made his vision swim, then got a forearm across Thorpe’s throat, giving him a brief advantage until Thorpe’s head snapped backwards, straight into Benedict’s brow.
With a pained grunt, Ben lost his hold and felt himself falling backwards, only managing to twist at the last second to avoid being pinned under fifteen stone.
As he tried to rise, a hand shot out to grab his leg, yanking his feet from under him.
Down he went again, but this time his head cracked against the floor with all the noise of a gunshot, and everything went black.
When he came to a few minutes later, there was a gun held a foot from his head.
‘What the devil are you doing here, Hartley?’ Sir Drayton’s voice was filled with fury, but underneath it, Ben could sense the fear.
‘I could ask you the same thing… Sir,’ Benedict slurred, blinking rapidly as he tried to bring the room into focus.
The gun pointing at his head didn’t waver
‘This is the man you put in charge of the investigation?’ The terse question came from the side and Ben swiftly turned his head only to wince as pain stabbed through his skull. As his vision came back, he realised the lamp had been relit and was back on the dresser.
‘Stand up.’ The command came from John Thorpe, who also happened to be the one holding the pistol. Swallowing a groan, Ben climbed to his feet. ‘Hands above your head,’ Thorpe snapped.
‘Why?’ Ben growled. ‘You’re going to shoot me anyway.’ He hesitated, then looked over to his superior, making no attempt to hide his contempt. ‘You’ve always been a conniving, lying, manipulative bastard, Drayton. Why am I not surprised to find you up to your unscrupulous neck in it?’
Charles Drayton reddened, and he stepped forward, brandishing a pistol of his own. ‘And your mouth will be your downfall, Benedict,’ he spat. ‘You’ve always been a sanctimonious prig. No wonder your brother can’t stand to be in the same room as you.’
An icy mist pooled in Ben’s gut. Why had Drayton mentioned Arthur? Was his brother somehow involved in this heinous business? Abruptly, he fought the urge to cast up his account. He wouldn’t, couldn’t think about that now - not if he was to stand any chance of getting out of this room alive.
Bella didn’t resist as she was pushed forward, a shield for the man holding the gun.
She realised that in addition to her father, both Charlotte and Rhys were there.
Although her position hadn’t changed, simply knowing they were there lessened her fear.
There were also at least half a dozen trembling, emaciated waifs dressed in little more than shifts watching from behind her aunt.
Clearly, they had been in the process of freeing the children.
Bella was swamped with sudden remorse. What if her’s and Alex’s meddling prevented these children from being rescued?
If she hadn’t had a gun at her head, the weight of her guilt would have brought her to her knees.
Biting down on her lip, she forced the feeling down.
Anguish would not help either her or them.
The time for self-castigation would come later.
If there was a later.
There was an eerie silence as they made their slow, careful way along the path next to the house.
She could smell her captor’s sour sweat and realised that despite his bravado, his nerves were like taut wire.
One slip and she was done for. Neither her father nor Rhys would make a move if it meant risking her life, so she was going to have to make the move for them.
The uneven path caused the pistol at her temple to waver. If she could just distract him enough to force his hand away…
Feverishly searching for something, anything, she could use to provide the necessary distraction, her eyes caught sight of a small patch of darkness to her right. After a few seconds, she realised it was keeping pace with them and her heart suddenly lifted.
It had to be Billy…
Bella readied herself. She knew he would act soon, or it would be too late. From the corner of her eye, she watched him come closer and closer until at length he circled behind, vanishing from her sight. Instinctively, she shut her eyes, waiting…
…There was the sound of something flying through the air, then her captor reacted as if he’d been shot. With a yell, he stumbled back, his own weapon dropping to the ground as he held the back of his head.
Heart slamming against her ribs, Arabella allowed her legs to collapse, the sudden weight causing him to release his hold on her.
Swiftly she rolled to the side, and seconds later a dark streak came from behind, slamming into the man’s back.
With barely a grunt, he was flung forwards…
catapulting headfirst into the newly created hole above the cellar.