Chapter 19
Theo fought to suppress the groan rising in his chest as a fist slammed into his jaw once more. Blood filled his mouth, and he didn’t even have the ability to spit it out. His head dipped toward his chest, and he started to slide into the void.
In the next breath, a bucket of cold water was thrown into his face to keep him from passing out. Damn, that water had to have been pulled out of the Thames from between the patches of ice lining the shore.
“No, you don’t, Saltkill, which isn’t your real name, is it?” Freddie Simpson snarled in the dim light of a nearby lantern. “You’re gonna stay awake until you draw your last breath.”
Every nerve in Theo’s body screamed with unbelievable pain.
God almighty, this bastard knew how to beat a man.
Thanks to his breaking the man’s wrist three weeks ago, Simpson wasn’t the one doing the actual damage.
That honor belonged to a thug Freddie called Bigsby..
The burly man had a fist the size of a very large potato, and sweet mother, the whoreson was inflicting a level of pain Theo had never experienced in his life.
Thank God, the bastard wasn’t using brass knuckles.
His jaw would have been shattered by now.
As it was, he felt as though he’d been involved in a brutal boxing match with a much more skilled opponent.
As much as he wanted to escape, he knew that wasn’t going to happen easily, if at all.
Simpson wasn’t a fool, and it was obvious Theo wasn’t the first person Freddie had beaten.
Although torture was a more appropriate word.
The man had been beating him off and on for hours, while interrogating him about Genevieve and how he knew her.
Freddie had also been asking questions about why he was in the Fox and Hound so much, and who Teasdale was. The questions didn’t sound like ones Simpson would have come up with on his own, which only strengthened his suspicions that Freddie was working with the Prussians.
Another fist slammed into the side of his head, and this time his already swollen eye closed completely.
Christ Jesus, he was beginning to realize he might not get out of this alive.
The bastard had tied Theo up well, and with his hands tied behind a ladder-back chair, and even tied his ankles.
It was becoming clear that his only reprieve would come when Simpson decided to take a nap.
Even the switchblade inserted into a special leather sheath a couple inches above his wrist, where it was more likely to go unnoticed, might be so difficult to reach it would be useless.
At least Simpson hadn’t removed his jacket when tying him up.
Even though the chances of sliding the blade out of the sheath and letting it slide down into his hand were doubtful, it still gave him hope.
It was a hope he could crawl out of this place to see Genevieve again when Freddie and his man left him alone for a time to either eat or sleep.
Theo’s only fear was that by that time he’d be out cold and any thought of escape would be moot.
Even now, he wasn’t sure he’d have the strength to work the ropes off his hands and ankles, let alone stagger his way out of this warehouse.
“Who is she, Saltkill, why is she so important to you?”
“Told you…paid year’s …savings …to bed the whore.”
Theo almost spilled the bile rising in his throat the moment he said whore. Genevieve wasn’t a whore, she’d been a child when Ruckley had forced her into being a sex slave. Closing his good eye, he pretended to be in pain, which wasn’t too hard to do, as a tear threatened to seep out of his eye.
The fact he’d even spoken the word whore in connection to Genevieve, when she’d never been one, was even more excruciating than the beating he was taking.
But he wasn’t about to shed a tear for this bastard, even if it was for calling the woman he loved a name that was so far removed from who she was.
An image of Genevieve filled his head, and the moment her face became a crystal-clear impression in his mind, some of his torment eased. She was everything to him. If enduring Simpson’s brutal interrogation meant she’d be safe, it was worth every blow Bigby slammed into his face and gut.
“I don’t believe you, Saltkill. Ginny might act the whore, but I’m beginning to think she’s something else entirely.”
“She’s…whore…spread her legs…for me…when paid…for…privilege,” Theo mumbled out of the side of his mouth that was still working. “You…just…can’t…pay.”
“Oh, I can pay, I just didn’t want to pay the steep price she gave me. But now? Now, I’m going to offer her much more than a thousand pounds,” Simpson said with a cruel laugh. “And I’m certain I’m going to make the bitch wish she’d accepted my first few offers.”
“She…won’t…have you…don’t meet high… standards.
This time it was Freddie’s fist that pounded its way into him.
Into a spot that was the most vulnerable, incredibly painful, spot on his body.
The instant Simpson pummeled the spot between his legs, Theo released a shriek of agony.
He didn’t even recognize the sound as coming from him, because it was the howl of an animal being tortured.
“Well, so you’ve finally decided to respond to your beating. I was beginning to think you’d go to your grave without me hearing the slightest whimper out of you.”
Unable to speak, Theo groaned from Freddie’s abuse to his cock as the black void opened up. This time, not even the icy water from the Thames could halt his sinking into the only place where pain didn’t exist.
§ § §
Vincent and Jamie stared at Genevieve with a mixture of shock, horror, and angry protest as she finished speaking.
“No, absolutely not,” Jamie yelled his objection with a ferocity that would have frightened her any other time.
“Theo was right,” Vincent said in a voice that was quiet and almost threatening, and Genevieve flinched at the icy look on his face. “You should be locked up in your room at home.”
“You’re insane, Ginny. This time I know you’ve lost your damn mind,” Jamie’s words echoed almost as loudly as his first violent objection.
“No, I’m not insane. I’m determined.”
Genevieve signed her reply for Vincent so he could follow the conversation, although she was certain that even with his hearing loss, her brother could hear Jamie’s shouts of vicious protest.
“If you think I’m letting you walk out that door and into the East End, you don’t know me at all, Genevieve.” Vincent’s voice had become menacing now, and again Genevieve flinched, but she shook her head.
“No, I don’t think you will, because I’ve brought someone who will make you think twice about that,” she said with confidence, despite the fear running rampant inside her.
Genevieve turned toward the safe house’s salon doorway.
A second later, her parents appeared and entered the salon.
Their faces indicated their daughter had their support, but their clothing was an even stronger sign of their purpose.
Jamie’s jaw sagged in stunned amazement at the sight of his aunt and uncle.
Vincent’s reaction to his parents entering the room was one of utter stoicism.
The only astonishment he showed was the tic in his cheek and the rigid tension of his posture.
But Genevieve could feel the anger radiating off him as he jerked his gaze away from their parents to glare at her.
“You told them what you intended to do?” Vincent’s voice echoed with a fury she’d only witnessed as a child when they were under Ruckley’s thumb.
“Not exactly,” Genevieve said with a rueful twist of her lips as her fingers and hands answered his question. “Mama caught me halfway out of my bedroom window as I was sneaking out of the house—”
“A fact that had me pulling her back into the house and straight down the stairs to your father’s study.” Genevieve’s mother signed to her eldest son.
“And why are you here now, dressed as if you intend to enter the East End?”
Vincent took a step toward his parents. His posture forbidding, he narrowed his eyes at the couple and studied them with a dark look of disapproval. Percy Rockwood drew himself up to his full height, which at almost six feet still fell short of Vincent’s additional four inches.
“Don’t forget who you’re speaking to, Vincent Rockwood,” Percy Rockwood signed a fierce rebuke, in sharp, authoritative sign language. “As your parents, we still know quite a bit about the East End, and what all of you are up against.”
Vincent had the grace to look apologetic before he nodded his head.
“I’m not questioning your experience with the East End, Father,” Vincent replied. “But we’re up against a far more dangerous enemy than Ruckley. Genevieve doesn’t even have a plan..”
“Then we’ll make one. This isn’t the first time the three of us have faced someone like this man, Simpson. You need us.”
“The three of you?”
Vincent’s anger had become puzzlement as if he’d suddenly realized his father wasn’t referring to himself, his wife, or Genevieve.
His question made everyone look at Percy Rockwood with confusion.
Vincent turned his head toward Genevieve, and she shrugged shoulders in a sign that she had no idea who their father was referring to.
The sound of the front door opening and closing made everyone turn toward the salon doorway as the tall figure of the Earl of Melton, dressed in the clothes of a dock worker, stepped into the room.
Genevieve was the only one who wasn’t all that surprised by Uncle Sebastian’s appearance.
It made sense that Theo’s father would wish to be a part of the search.
“Christ almighty,” Jamie exclaimed as he looked in Genevieve’s direction and then his uncles. “The lot of you need to be locked up in an insane asylum.”
“Watch your tone with me, Lord Westbury. Theo is my son,” the earl snapped. “If you think I’m going to sit back and let others go after him, then I’ll personally see to it that you’re the one locked up.”