Chapter 19 #2
It was Jamie’s turn to look well-chastised, and he nodded with respect toward his Uncle Sebastian, mumbling a soft apology.
“Tell them,” Rhea Rockwood said softly.
Percy Rockwood nodded as his wife kissed his cheek.
The tenderness in her gesture illustrated her deep love for her husband.
Studying her father, Genevieve was baffled as to what her father would say.
The only thing her parents had said to her when they’d learned she was going to rescue Theo was that they intended to help.
Initially, she’d protested with vehemence.
It was only when her parents threatened to nail her window shut and lock her in her room that Genevieve had yielded to her parents' demands.
She frowned, trying to think of where her father might be leading when she drew in a small breath of surprise.
Peter. Her brother had conveyed a message to her father.
“I experienced the an dara sealladh earlier today. It didn’t make much sense until we caught Genevieve trying to sneak out of the house.
Peter said her mother and I should go with her tonight,” her father said in a quiet, sorrow-filled voice.
“And just before his strength gave out, he said to check the warehouses. But even if Peter hadn’t told me to go with her, Genevieve’s courage in returning to the terrible place she’d escaped as a child, would have made our decision to accompany her the same.
I also knew better than to consider looking for Theo without telling my brother what we were about. ”
As Percy Rockwood finished speaking, Vincent and Jamie looked at each other.
Their expressions said they knew they were fighting a losing battle if they continued with their protests.
The senior members of the family had made it clear they were going to help find and rescue Theo.
After a long pause, the two of them conceded to the resolve of the elders.
“Then where do we start?” Lord Melton asked. Before anyone could say a word, her father swept his hand toward the semicircle of several chairs in front of the fire.
“Shall we get started? Peter said Theo was running out of time, and I’m not sure what warehouses he was referring too.”
Her father’s words sent a chill skimming over Genevieve’s skin as she sat down in one of the chairs.
Over the next fifteen minutes, her father and uncle outlined several scenarios that would be their best chance of finding Theo.
They were simplistic plans, but they were the only real options they had.
“So, we're all in agreement?” Uncle Sebastian asked quietly. “Genevieve will go with Vincent and me to search the warehouses owned by Simpson’s known contacts. Rhea, Percy, and Jamie will visit warehouses close to the pubs Simpson frequents.”
Everyone agreed to the plan her uncle had laid out, and Genevieve was grateful the earl had not objected when she’d insisted on accompanying him and Vincent.
She’d been worried her parents might be over-protective during their search, and if Theo didn’t have much time, it might be necessary to take some risks.
It was close to ten o’clock when everyone was ready to leave the safe house.
Genevieve had dressed for her part, and the moment her parents saw her, they both winced.
Rhea Rockwood reached out to touch the black-haired wig Genevieve had been using ever since her first foray into the East End months ago.
“I’m glad you hid that glorious hair of yours so no one will recognize you, but I don’t know how easily someone could pull it off your head.”
At her mother’s softly spoken concern, Genevieve smiled. “I use spirit gum, which makes it difficult for someone to just yank the wig off my head.”
“But your skin, Genevieve—”
“I use a lot of cocoa butter to remove it,” she said the instant her mother expressed her concern. While Rhea Rockwood’s frown didn’t disappear, her father offered her a small smile.
“Cocoa butter? You’re not trying to learn how to make chocolate, are you?” The teasing remark made Genevieve step forward to kiss her father’s cheek.
“No, but I could use some, right now.”
“I’ll be sure to have some ready tomorrow when we’ve brought Theo home safely.”
The words made Genevieve’s stomach lurch, and she hid her fear beneath another affectionate kiss on her father’s cheek.
She could only pray her father's promise came to pass. If they were too late— Genevieve shut down her thoughts. They would only cause mistakes, and tonight, mistakes were not acceptable. Theo’s life counted on that.
§ § §
Theo slowly regained consciousness, expecting another bucket of water thrown in his face.
He didn’t move, terrified another blow to his head would end it all.
Silence filled the air, and when he opened the eye that still worked, he was alone.
For the first time, he was able to look around at the space Simpson had brought him to.
Large, bulky crates were stacked up high around the area where he sat, tied to the chair, and trussed up like that bird Jamie had referred to when they were in the alley last night, or was it the night before.
Time had become non-existent to him. All he remembered were the beatings, the interrogations, and the moments when he’d slipped into blissful darkness.
Theo tipped his head back to stare up at the ceiling.
The glass panes overhead confirmed he was in a warehouse as he’d originally thought.
Light from the glass ceiling provided a natural illumination during the day for workers to see what they were doing, and at night one could see the night sky.
From where he was tied up, he could see the edge of the moon, and the color of the night sky wasn’t quite as dark as it would have been in the middle of the night.
Whatever time it was, a new day was on the verge of dawning, and he was alone at the moment.
Not waiting for someone to return, Theo flexed his shoulder as best he could, while his thumb wiggled the muscles in his forearm.
Every once in a while, he’d glance up at the night sky, and he was certain he’d been working for more than an hour based on the how much lighter the sky was becoming.
Since he had no idea how long Simpson had been gone before he’d come to, Theo had no idea when the man would return.
But he knew his best chance of survival was the blade he was trying to free from it’s sheath.
If he’d not freed himself by the time Simpson returned, the man would kill him, and he’d realized he didn’t want to die.
Theo wanted to live. He wanted more time to convince Genevieve to marry him, even if it meant enlisting the help of family members.
But if he didn’t free himself before Freddie returned, he would die.
He was certain of that. Simpson just seemed to enjoy dragging out the inevitable.
The sudden sensation of cool metal brushing against his skin made him smile.
Theo was certain it was more of a grimace than a smile, but it didn’t stop hope from surging through him.
With gentle movements of his fingers, Theo inched the blade downward.
His hands were growing numb from his restraints, and when the knife reached a pivotal spot just above his wrist, Theo flexed the fingers of his opposite hand to make them more flexible, and better prepared to catch the blade as it slid out from under his jacket.
If he dropped the damn thing, all hope of escaping this hellish situation was gone.
His heart in his mouth, Theo closed his eyes and concentrated on sliding the blade out from under his coat sleeve.
Fingers wrapping around the blade handle, he grew still for a moment to ensure his fingers had a tight grip on the blade.
Slowly angling the blade out from under the coat sleeve, he released a breath of relief.
Pushing the safety out of the locked position, he pressed the button to pop the blade out of its handle.
Triumph barreled through him as he began to slice through the heavy hemp rope binding his hands together.
Despite the blade’s sharp edge, it took close to ten minutes or more to cut through his bindings.
For Theo, those minutes seemed like a lifetime, and he tried not to hurry the process along for fear of dropping the knife. Suddenly, he felt his bindings break apart, and once more triumph spilled through him.
Shoulders aching and stiff, Theo’s grip tightened around the blade handle, then brought his hands and arms around to their natural position in front of him. Without thinking, he bent at the waist to free his ankles. It was a mistake to move so fast, and Theo immediately threw up.
After retching up mostly phlegm and other liquid from his stomach, he wiped his wet mouth with the back of his coat sleeve.
Gathering his wits and ignoring his body’s protests, his ankles were free much faster than his wrists had been.
As the frayed rope fell to the floor, Theo straightened up and rested his back against the wooden slats of the chair.
Christ Jesus, he hurt, and he just wanted to fall into a warm, soft bed.
While it was still silent in the warehouse, he knew he had to move.
Theo tried to rise from the chair, but his left leg refused to work properly.
Bigsby had taken a stick to the limb on several occasions during his torture, and it was badly bruised, if not broken.
Glancing around at the floor, Theo saw the stick lying on the ground nearby.
It appeared long enough to act as a cane.