Chapter Fourteen
Rhys draped Violet’s cape around her shoulders and tied the ribbons in front.
He enjoyed being this close to her. Her warm exhale of breath hit him on his chin, and her gaze never broke away from his.
Those eyes were a fascinating mixture of hues.
An amber starburst radiated from her pupil and bled softly into a darker chocolate brown, the irises surrounded by a ring of coal black.
The two of them stood staring at each other for a long moment.
Then Violet stepped back to turn and grab her muff. “Thank you for speaking with me, Mrs. Rigby.”
Viola rose gracefully and held out a slim hand. “Surely. And call me Viola. Everyone calls me Mama Viola. Thank you for being the reason Rhys decided to come visit me.”
Rhys winced at the chastisement. He hadn’t been staying away on purpose. It had been a busy month. He walked over to Viola and kissed her cheek. “I’m sorry. I will come to see you again soon.”
She patted his face. “You’d better. I have questions about that one,” she said in a low voice. “Didn’t think you messed around with married women.”
He wasn’t messing around with Violet Sommerset. Becoming entranced with her, yes, but he would never think of doing anything about it. He had plenty of self-control, he reminded himself. And Viola was right; he did not dally with married women. “Later,” he muttered.
They walked out into the cold gray day. The sunshine from earlier this morning was hidden behind a thick layer of clouds. “Looks like rain. Better get you home.” Lightly taking her elbow, he led them down the alley.
“Mrs. Rigby is very nice. I didn’t find her brash or loud,” Violet said.
“She was on her best behavior, believe me,” he said.
“You said she was your mother’s best friend. When did your mother pass?”
“Eight years ago. My mother and Viola became friends when my mother first returned to the city. I was only six, but Viola always let me come to work with my mother. I grew up in that brothel. Strange place to have as a home, but I never knew the difference.” He shrugged.
“Everyone who worked at the Birdcage always looked out for me.”
“Your mother worked for Viola? As a…” Violet’s eyes were as round as saucers.
“As a prostitute. Yes.” He wasn’t ashamed.
His mother had done what she had to in order to survive and put food on the table for her son.
There were worse ways to earn quid. He knew very well some of those ways.
And the Birdcage had always been a safe haven for him and his mother.
Until she got sick. There was no escaping the realities of syphilis.
“Oy, look-y who it is.” A man stepped out the back door of the smoke shop. “Seaton, haven’t seen you around this block in a while.”
Fuck, just what he needed. One of the Newgate boys. “Frank,” Rhys acknowledged.
Three other men stepped out of the shadows. He recognized two of them—Gus and Calvin, real brutes. Walter must want something if he had sent his most trusted guys.
“Told you, Frank, that it was ’im.” the third guy, who he didn’t know said. He was a skinny fellow with a shock of red hair who was talking a mile a minute. “I saw him go into the Birdcage earlier. Knew it had to be ’im.”
The men casually fanned out, blocking the exit to the alley. Fuck. Rhys pulled Violet close. He kept his stare on Frank. His cold silence unnerved most men. Inside though, his blood ran hot. Four-against-one odds were not the best.
“Walter wants to talk with you.” Frank cracked his thick neck to one side.
“Tell him he can go fuck right off. I’m busy.
” He walked toward the mouth of the alley, dragging Violet along.
She had gone stiff with fear. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her eyes flick up to him, but he didn’t dare tear his gaze from Frank, who stood in their way. Twenty feet, fifteen, ten, five.
Frank’s lecherous smile spread wide. “I can see. She one of Viola’s birds?”
Rhys stopped right in front of Frank. “Get out of my way.”
The three others had closed in. Calvin stepped up to Violet’s left. “She sure is a pretty one.” He reached out a hand, and Violet recoiled.
Rhys stepped in between them and gave Calvin a hard shove. “Touch her and die.”
Violet yelped as red-hair yanked her away. Frank’s beefy arm slid around Rhys’s throat from behind, pulling him off-balance. “You gonna come with us to see Walter, or we gonna do this the hard way?”
“Fuck off.” Rhys drove his elbow backward into Frank’s side. Red-hair dragged Violet away. Her eyes, wide with fear, cut to him. Rhys threw his head back hard and nailed Frank in the nose. Frank howled and let go of him but not before Calvin rammed his fist into Rhys’s stomach.
He doubled over with a grunt, crouched down, then swept his leg across, toppling Calvin next.
Rhys pulled his knife from his boot and straightened, ready for Gus.
Gus came at him like a raging bull, tackling him to the ground.
Rhys pulled his knife across the brute’s throat.
Pushing Gus off of him with a horrible gurgle of blood, Rhys struggled to his feet.
Fuck, where was Violet?
Red-hair had her pressed up against the brick wall of the building.
His hands gripped her hips as he crudely ground against her.
Rhys stalked toward them, but Calvin had gotten to his feet, and he thrashed out, landing a blow to Rhys’s kidney.
He fell to his knees, and Calvin kicked him in his side, sending him tumbling.
Then the man crouched and managed to stab his knife right into Rhys’s thigh. “Fuck!”.
Behind him someone whimpered. Violet. The world fell silent as Rhys growled low and buried his knife into Calvin’s stomach.
The man grunted and gripped the hilt, pulling the knife out as he tumbled backward into the dirt.
The knife skittered across the ground. Rhys jumped to his feet and grabbed up the knife.
When he swung around, Frank was in front of him, nose still pouring blood down his face.
“Stop. Enough.” He pressed a hand to Rhys’s chest.
Rhys growled low, his focus over Frank’s shoulder on Violet, trapped under the man with red hair. She’d turned her head to one side, tears streaming down her face. Rhys raised his knife, his breath heaving, prepared to kill Frank as well to get to her.
“Ronny, get off her, for fuck’s sake,” Frank yelled. “Do you have a death wish?”
Ronny immediately stepped back.
“Goddamn it, Seaton. Just stop.” Frank gave his chest a small shove.
“You tell Walter that he needs to leave me and mine the fuck alone. And he’d better sleep with one eye open from now on.”
Frank let out a long sigh. He nodded. “Come on, Ronny, you fucking twat. Look what you did.”
Rhys watched the two of them walk away out onto the street, disappearing to the left. Then he limped over to Violet. Her chest heaved, her breath coming out in panicked bursts. Rhys gently cupped her cheek. “Are you all right? Violet?”
She stared up at him and blinked several times as though clearing her mind. Then she gasped. “You’re covered in blood!”
“It’s not mine.” He rubbed his thumb across her cheek. “Did he hurt you?”
Violet shook her head. “No, just scared me. He was so close. I couldn’t breathe with him pressed against me.
I-I couldn’t see what was happening with you.
His breath was so rancid…” She glanced over his shoulder and gasped again.
“Oh God!” Her hands moved over his chest and then to his face, wiping at the blood that was no doubt splattered there. “Are you hurt?”
“Just a little banged up.”
“God, who were they?” she asked.
“A local gang. One I used to run with when I was an adolescent. The leader doesn’t like me much.”
Her eyebrows raised so high they practically reached her hairline. “‘Doesn’t like you much’ seems an understatement.”
He touched her face again, brushing his knuckles down her cheek. “I’m so sorry that I put you in danger.”
She gripped his wrist. “This was not your fault. Those were very bad men. You don’t still deal with them?”
He shook his head. “No, it’s been years since I left, but the leader still wants to assert his dominance. He wants to intimidate me because I don’t need them anymore. And it kills him that I am successful without the gang.”
“We were just minding our own business when they attacked us. That is not your fault.”
He still seethed. “If they had hurt you…”
“I am all right.” Her lips curved into a wobbly smile. “Can we go now?”
Rhys stepped back with a wince. The knife in his thigh burned like a bitch.
“Rhys, you have a knife sticking out of your leg!”
“I know, sugar.”
“Shall I pull it out for you?”
“No, not sure how bad it will bleed. Going to take care of it at home. I’ll send for Zeke.
He’ll sew it up for me.” Now that the fight had drained from him, every damn place he had been punched and kicked throbbed.
He took Violet’s hand and started for the street.
They stepped around Gus’s and Calvin’s bodies.
Violet stopped and shuddered as she stared down at the bodies. She looked up at him. “Did you kill them?”
“Yes.” He tensed, waiting for the inevitable horror to appear on her face.
“Why?”
“They were trying to keep me from getting to you.”
But her expression stayed contemplative as she stared up at him. She wiped her thumb across his cheek. Then she nodded. “What will happen to their bodies?”
“The gang will come back with a cart and collect them.” The Newgate boys always took care of their own.
He had collected plenty of bodies as a young member of the gang.
It was always the youngins that got the worst jobs.
“Come on, this isn’t for your eyes.” But as they moved through the rutted alley, pain shot through his leg, and he stumbled.
Violet gripped his arm to steady him. “I’ll go get my carriage.”
“No, it’s not safe. I’ll be fine.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. It’s only three blocks. I’ll be right back.” Then she gathered up her skirts and raced away before he could grab her arm to keep her next to him.
Impetuous chit! “Goddamn it,” Rhys swore, long and colorfully as he hobbled toward the street.
Everything bloody hurt. Gus had got a right good blow to his kidney.
He hoped he wouldn’t be pissing blood tonight.
At the corner, he leaned against the side of the building, sweat beading along his brow.
When Rhys glanced across the street, he saw one of his urchins and gave a sharp, trilling whistle. The boy spotted him and ran over.
“Cor, Mr. Seaton, you look right awful,” the boy said.
“I’ll be fine. Got a ride coming. Georgie, go find Zeke and tell him to meet me at my place with his sewing kit. Got that?”
“Yes, sir. Meet you at your place. Sewing kit. Right away, sir.”