Chapter 19 #3
With a grunt, he forced himself to stand up, putting all his weight on his right leg.
He swayed for a moment, fighting to maintain his equilibrium.
After a long moment, he was steady enough to hobble toward the stick.
Bracing himself against a crate, he stooped to lift the weapon, now destined to be his walking aid.
The effort taxed his strength, and he was forced to press his back against a crate and draw in deep breaths as he rested for a few minutes.
He didn’t allow himself much time before he limped his way to an opening in the stack of crates. Theo managed to get at least fifty yards from where he’d been held hostage when he heard voices coming toward him. Fuck. Simpson and Bigsby were on their way back.
Bile rose in Theo’s throat before he turned down a wide, dark opening that ran along the stack of crates.
On his right, he heard his captors more clearly as they walked past the makeshift corridor he was hiding in.
Trying not to make a sound, Theo continued along his path, tucking his make-shift cane under his arm, and using the crates as a support.
He kept moving forward, praying he wasn’t headed toward a dead end.
Loud curses echoed through the crates, and Theo knew Simpson had discovered he was gone.
He had no idea how far away he was from an exit, or where to find one. All he could do was keep moving away from Simpson, who was railing at Bigsby. He’d gone almost the entire length of the warehouse with no sight of an escape route when he heard Simpson only a few crates over.
“The bastard’s in too bad of shape to have gotten far.”
Theo froze as Simpson continued to berate Bigsby. When the man’s voice faded as the two men headed back in the direction from where Theo had come, he released a soft sigh of relief. Overhead, dawn was becoming more apparent, and he knew there wasn’t much time for him to find an exit.
If he didn’t, Simpson would just slit his throat and leave him for someone to find.
His mouth tightening with determination, Theo moved forward again.
He’d gotten this far. He’d find a way out of this goddamn maze and into the morning light.
After what seemed like an endless amount of time, Theo saw a ray of light ahead of him.
The angle of the light made him certain it wasn’t coming from the ceiling, but from what had to be an exit.
The prospect of getting out of the warehouse, along with the possibility of finding help, made Theo move faster.
As he rounded the corner, an opening that led out to the street running between the ship dock and the warehouse appeared in front of him.
Adrenaline flowed through Theo, allowing him to shuffle even faster toward the exit.
Voices echoed behind him, and his heart sank.
Death was closer at hand than freedom. As he staggered out into the open, the voices behind him grew louder.
There was already a small bit of activity down where the ships were berthed, and Theo hobbled forward, hoping he could reach someone before Freddie Simpson reached him.
The sudden sound of voices further down the street made Theo turn toward them.
His only good eye was almost swollen shut like the other one, and it was difficult to tell if they were walking or running toward him.
Theo began to shuffle forward in their direction.
Behind him, a roar of rage sailed through the air.
Theo knew it was Simpson, and the people running toward him were too far away to be of any help.
With little choice, Theo turned to face the man, while fumbling to pull his switchblade out of his coat pocket.
The safety off, he popped the blade free from the handle.
The smile on the bastard’s face was malevolent as he flung his switchblade open as well.
“They won’t reach you in time, Saltkill. I don’t know who they are, but I’m certain one of them is Ginny, but they’re still too far away for me to be sure,” Simpson said. “But it doesn’t matter, you’ll be dead before they can even tell who I am.”
Freddie took a confident step toward Theo and swung the blade toward Theo’s neck. The only option Theo had to evade the death blow was to fall backward onto the street. His back slammed into the cobblestones, knocking the breath out of him, while Simpson uttered a sharp oath of frustration.
“Better go…if…Ginny… she brings…friends.”
“Not before I rid myself of you, Saltkill. Sending you to your death will give me a great deal of satisfaction.”
Simpson bent over him, holding his blade over his head as he prepared to bring it downward to slice into Theo’s neck.
The blade never started its descent before a single shot rang out, and a stunned look crossed Freddie’s face.
The man looked down at a dark spot on his coat that was beginning to expand, while his switchblade fell out of his hand to clatter against the stone street.
His expression was still one of bewildered surprise as his eyes rolled back and he fell forward.
With a sluggish movement, Theo rolled out from under Simpson’s falling body.
Somewhere in the back of his mind, Theo heard familiar voices floating toward him , but there was only one voice he could identify without doubt, and it was the sweetest sound he’d ever heard.
Genevieve. The moment he heard her snapping at someone, he felt one corner of his mouth tip upward a small fraction, before he toppled into the black void, where he was free of pain.
§ § §
Genevieve, with her brother and uncle behind her, raced toward Theo as she saw him hobbling out of one of the warehouses lining the dock.
In front of her, she saw Freddie swing at Theo, who fell backward onto the ground.
In horror, she watched the shiny silver of Simpson’s switchblade catch the first rays of the sun.
Without thinking, Genevieve came to a halt, pulled the revolver from her pocket, took aim at Freddie and pulled the trigger.
The pistol heavy in her hand, her arm fell to her side as she saw Simpson fall forward onto the cobblestones.
Uncle Sebastian ran past her, while Vincent slid to a halt beside her.
Her brother grabbed her arm and pulled the gun from her opposite hand.
“Where the fuck did you get this, Ginny?” her brother bit out.
“From the gun cabinet in the safe house,” she signed with sharp gestures. “Where else would I get a weapon, you dolt. Now let me go.”
With a hard tug, she jerked free of her brother’s grip and ran toward Theo lying still on the street.
Uncle Sebastian was gently examining his son as she sank down at Theo’s side opposite her uncle.
The earl looked up at her, his eyes dark with what she could tell was concern, as well as relief.
The sun made its morning debut and spilled its first rays of light on Theo’s face, and she drew in a sharp breath of horror.
“Oh, dear God,” she whispered as her fingers brushed a lock of hair away from his battered face.
The sight of his beautiful features ravaged by the beating he’d suffered at Simpson’s hands, made tears well up in her eyes.
But she blinked them back, resisting their release.
If she were to cry, she’d reveal far more than she wanted to.
“How is he?” her brother asked as he came to a halt across from Uncle Sebastian.
“I think he looks worse than he is,” the Earl of Melton replied with quick gestures of his hands. “But we need to get him home and have Wills examine him.”
“I’ll fetch a carriage,” Vincent said with a nod of understanding.
Her brother ran back in the direction they’d come, but Genevieve didn’t bother to watch him go.
Instead, her fingers brushed across an unblemished part of Theo’s forehead.
A low groan rumbled out of him, making her heart skip a beat.
Genevieve froze at the sound, her heart aching for him at the pain he must be suffering.
Theo grimaced as his eye that wasn’t swollen shut fluttered open.
Pain darkened a familiar stormy-blue, and Genevieve started as his hand brushed over hers. The instant warm fingers intertwined with hers, her gaze jerked down to where Theo’s had locked her hand in his. A quick glance at Uncle Sebastian showed he was watching their interaction with keen interest.