Chapter 38 #2
Going to one of the decorative urns, she reached inside and retrieved the second case.
“Release them first,” she said.
Carver jerked his head at his guards. “Let them go.”
Unbound, Nell and Simon raced to Finn. Caleb had started to come over, then stopped when he noticed that Iris remained frozen. Grabbing her hand, he dragged her to the Hawks.
Once Finn had her gang behind her, she gave the cases to Carver.
“This is yours,” she said. “Our slate is clean, and I wish for no further trouble.”
Carver admired his treasure before closing the cases and passing them to a lackey.
“You should have thought of that before you crossed me,” he said silkily. “Now you shall have to pay—all of you.”
From the cracked drawing room door, Owen watched Finn handle Carver.
It was one of the most excruciating experiences of his life.
She looked so small and defenseless against the cutthroat; knowing that was part of her plan didn’t alleviate his gut-deep fear.
He wanted to rush to her side and protect her from the deadly cutthroat.
He forced himself to wait for her signal.
“You have what you wanted,” Finn protested as if she were surprised.
“You’ve won. You took Iris hostage and forced those vile drugs on her.
You made the rest of us hunt for the jewels in exchange for her life.
Even though we were trying our best, you sent your men to kidnap Tansy and destroy Pell House.
Then you took Caleb, Nell, and Simon. Yet despite the suffering you’ve caused, I’ve given you the treasure. ”
Clever girl, laying out his crimes for the constable to hear.
“You’ve given me nothing but trouble,” Carver said. “You would have had the treasure sooner if you hadn’t been dallying with that fancy lord. Did you think I didn’t know, my dear? I know everything. You spread your legs for him, and he left you high and dry, didn’t he? In more ways than one.”
At Carver’s nasty laugh, Owen balled his hands.
“If you can entice a lord, perhaps I have a use for you after all.”
Carver circled Finn.
“Perhaps you could persuade me to grant you mercy,” he said with a smirk. “I’ve grown tired of Iris and her whore’s tricks. Take her place—and I might let you live.”
Finn smiled…and spat in his eye.
With a snarl, he backhanded her. “You stupid bitch.”
“To me!” she shouted.
That was the signal. But Owen had his foot out the drawing room door the instant Carver raised his hand to her.
Now Rawlins and his men swarmed the entrance hall, from inside and out.
Carver’s brutes shouted in confusion, not knowing where to point their pistols as armed men enclosed them and blocked their exit.
“Surrender now!” Rawlins said. “We have you surrounded.”
“We’ll fight our way through, lads,” a brute in a cap yelled.
A shot whizzed through the air, knocking off his cap.
He slapped his bare head, his eyes popping as they traced the bullet’s trajectory to the upper gallery.
Mama held a smoking pistol, and Papa and Ethan flanked her, their weapons at the ready.
On the other side of the gallery, James and Grantley had firearms precisely aimed.
“We surrender!” the brute said hurriedly. “Don’t shoot!”
He knelt, laying his weapon on the ground, and others followed suit.
Owen saw the flash of malice on Carver’s face—and of the steel in his hand.
The instant before the bastard could pounce on Finn, Owen charged him.
The knife skidded across the marble floor.
Owen grappled with Carver before gaining the upper hand and slamming the villain into a wall.
He plowed his fists into the other’s gut, finding the soft belly beneath the bully’s shell.
“Have a taste for hitting women, do you?” he gritted out. “For preying upon them?”
Carver bared his teeth. “That stupid whore was asking for it—”
Owen planted a facer and felt the satisfying crack of bone.
“You broke my nose,” Carver gasped as blood spurted from him.
“I’ll break you in half for the pain you’ve caused Finn.”
Owen continued the pummeling. His opponent stopped fighting back. Feeling a tap on his shoulder, he turned his head.
“What?” he growled at Finn.
“May I?” she asked.
He heaved a sigh. “Have at it.”
He stayed close, just in case. She stepped up to Carver, studied him, and punched him in his bloodied nose. He gave a choking sort of scream—and slumped down the wall.
“I’m done,” she announced.
Rawlins and his men collected the limp cutthroat.
Owen ran a thumb gently along Finn’s cheekbone, which was already swelling.
“I should have killed that bastard for putting his hands on you,” he muttered.
“To be fair, I did spit in his eye.” She smiled. “And I broke his nose.”
“I broke his nose.”
“As you wish.” She wound her arms around his neck. “Thank you for standing up for me—and for the Hawks.”
“You don’t have to thank me for that.”
“Then thank you for loving me.”
“As if you gave me much choice in the matter,” he murmured. “How could anyone resist you, my scheming, brave, darling Finn?”
“Stealing your boots was the best thing I ever did,” she said.
Laughing, he kissed her, and she kissed him back.