Chapter 29 #2
“I trust you’ve brought a loaded pistol,” Adrian muttered. Reaching into his own coat pocket, he withdrew the set of long needles he’d purchased earlier in the day.
“Of course,” Kendrick hissed.
“Good. Then all you need do is be on alert.” They arrived in front of the door and Adrian dropped to one knee.
“What the hell are you doing?”
“Granting us access.”
“Good God, Croft. You’re breaking into someone’s house illegally. I can’t be a part of this. It’s completely…”
Whatever else Kendrick said was lost on Adrian as he focused on doing as Samantha had taught him. Insert the longest pin like so, pushing the tumbler upward and releasing the bolt.
A soft click and the door was unlocked.
Adrian returned the pins to his coat pocket while straightening to his full height and retrieving one of the pistols he’d brought along with him. He shared a quick look with Kendrick, noted his disapproval, and nudged the door open before he could voice additional protests.
The foyer was sparsely furnished, save for a small entryway table on which several pairs of discarded gloves were piled. Voices came from the right — the lit room they’d seen from the street. The door stood slightly ajar.
Pistol raised and ready to fire, Adrian gave the door a gentle nudge. It swung open with ease, so silently none of the men who were gathered around the table in the parlor took notice.
They were too busy talking about the drinking and whoring they wished they were doing instead of having to sit around waiting for orders.
“I’ve a mind to quit,” one of them said. “Pay’s not worth this kind of boredom.”
“Brawlin’ at The Mad Bull might not have filled me pockets as much but it was more fun than this.”
“Shut the hell up,” someone else ordered. “Each and every one of you is lucky to ’ave been recruited. Soon as the final job’s finished, you’ll be free to go back where you came from.”
“And what job would that be?” Adrian asked, his tone as deadly as poison.
“What the—”
A howl of pain followed as the dagger Adrian threw embedded itself in the shoulder of the man who’d been talking.
Though Kendrick remained silent, his sharp intake of breath did not evade Adrian’s notice.
Apparently, despite his reputation and everything Kendrick knew about him, he’d still managed to shock him.
He stepped farther into the room, his pistol pointed squarely at the man nearest to him, while retrieving a second pistol from his left coat pocket. This was aimed at the largest man in the room.
“Evening, gentlemen.” He flashed his teeth for effect. “I’m Mr. Croft, and this here is Chief Constable Kendrick.”
No one uttered a word. The only sound was a soft whimper from the man who’d been struck by the dagger. Everyone else stood completely still, their eyes wide and their mouths slightly open as though they struggled to make sense of what was occurring.
“We’ve come to speak with Mr. O’Leary,” Adrian explained. “I trust he’s upstairs?”
“You’ll get no information from us,” the stabbed man – by far the most loyal of the bunch – rasped even as two other men answered Adrian’s question with nods and pointed toward the stairs.
“Excellent.” Adrian scanned the faces of the six men who stared at him, one with more contempt than the rest. “If you leave quietly, without a fuss, you’ll face no charges.”
Thankfully, Kendrick was wise enough not to argue this point.
He knew either his men or Murry would intercept everyone as they left.
What he did not know was that Adrian’s associates were stationed within the perimeter set up by Bow Street.
Lee had almost made his presence known earlier when he’d moved in the doorway.
He and the others would make sure no one here worked against Croft in the future.
It only took Adrian pulling back the hammers on his pistols for the men to get moving. They filed past him and Kendrick and left the house, their quickening footfalls suggesting they started into a run as soon as they’d gotten outside.
“He’ll not let you live,” said the man who’d been stabbed. His expression twisted, and then he opened his mouth on a crack of thunder as Adrian pulled back one of the triggers.
“Damn it, Croft,” Kendrick growled. “He wasn’t a threat to your life.”
“Of course he was,” Adrian said, already pushing past Kendrick and heading toward the stairs. Unfortunately, firing his pistol would have alerted O’Leary.
The disturbance coming from overhead pushed Adrian into a run. He took the stairs two steps at a time, ignoring whatever Kendrick was shouting behind him. His feet hit the top of the landing exactly as the door to his left slammed shut. The grating of metal informed him it had been locked.
Soon, it might be barricaded as well if O’Leary were given enough time to push a piece of furniture up against it.
“Croft.” Kendrick’s voice preceded his footfalls on the stairs.
Ignoring him, Adrian stepped back from the door, raised his leg, and jammed his foot forward as hard as he could. It crashed against the wood, splintering it and breaking the lock. Adrian let the momentum carry him forward, into the room where O’Leary was now on his way out the window.
Adrian shoved his pistols back into his pockets, then leapt across the distance between them, hand reaching and fingers straining, until he caught hold of the fabric from O’Leary’s trousers. It slid through his grasp when O’Leary yanked on his leg, kicking Adrian off him.
Worried the bastard would manage to escape him once more, Adrian caught hold of O’Leary’s foot and twisted it sideways.
The ensuing pop was accompanied by a howl of pain.
And then Kendrick was there, helping Adrian pull O’Leary back into the room.
Kendrick retrieved a leather cord from his pocket and handed it to Adrian.
O’Leary’s hands were tied at the wrists.
Adrian’s knuckles connected with flesh. Bone cracked, and O’Leary cried out once more. Another punch to the Irishman’s face bloodied Adrian’s knuckles.
“Stop it,” Kendrick commanded. “You’re beating a man who can’t fight back.”
A smug smile formed on O’Leary’s face. “Best do as you’re told, Mr. Croft.”
Another punch wiped all traces of humor away.
“That’s enough,” Kendrick snapped, attempting to position himself between Adrian and O’Leary.
“Get out of my way,” Adrian hissed.
“No. I can’t let you do this without interfering.”
“Not even when you know what he’s done?”
Kendrick looked visibly uncomfortable, yet he said, “I’m sorry, but as an officer of the law, it’s my duty to see him safely back to Bow Street.”
Exactly as Adrian had expected. He sent a swift glance over his shoulder when he heard the familiar tread of Murry’s feet on the landing. The tall, broad-shouldered valet entered the room and took quick stock of the situation before allowing himself to share a knowing look with Adrian.
“I entered the house when I heard the gun-shot. I’ve searched the rest of the rooms downstairs. The basement too.” His voice was casual, conversational, as he strode to the window and looked out onto the street below. “All remaining threats have been removed.”
“How many?” Adrian asked.
“Two.”
“Please tell me they’re still alive,” Kendrick said, “so they can be properly charged with the crimes they’ve committed.”
Murry turned from the window and stared at O’Leary, his expression blank. Then, without a word, he walked behind Kendrick. What followed happened so quickly Adrian could only marvel at the swiftness.
One second, Kendrick was still standing upright, his hands gripping O’Leary’s arms to keep him immobile. The next, he was on the floor in a limp pile of limbs.
“What the devil?” O’Leary stared down at Kendrick’s incapacitated body.
It was Adrian’s turn to smile. “Looks like we can finally have the private conversation I’ve been looking forward to.”
When O’Leary met his gaze next, his eyes were wide with terror.
Adrian simply laughed.