Page 40 of When a Lady Dares
Another blow—Stanwyck’s left fist this time—caught the man under the chin.
Reggie clutched his head. A low moan escaped him.
Stanwyck tore the gun from the thug’s slack fingers. He turned to Sophie, his interest fixed on the pale-haired man holding her. “Release the woman.”
The gangly thug pressed his forearm against her throat. His muscles went taut, increasing the pressure until her breaths came in tiny, struggling pants. Angling the pen toward his forearm, she held her thumb against the latch. A bit more tension on her airway, and he’d leave her no choice but to deploy the blade.
“Sod off, ye bloody bastard. I’ll snap ’er pretty neck in two.”
Stanwyck didn’t waver. His eyes narrowed. “So, Jack…that was your name, wasn’t it…what’s it to be?”
“Bugger off.”
Stanwyck primed the revolver to fire. His voice lowered to a gravel-edged rasp. “Release her and save yourself, or I will pull this trigger and send you directly to hell.”
…
Gavin kept his focus locked on Jack. What in blazes had Sophie gotten herself into? Why would two ruffians be dispatched to abduct one woman—much less a woman who barely came to his chin even when she steeled her spine with her full measure of indignation? Who would want her captured so badly that he…or she…sent a backup in case the first bastard failed?
His finger twitched against the trigger. One move—one sign the rotter would follow through on his threat to hurt her—and he would give his instincts free rein to pump a bullet between the coward’s weaselly eyes.
As if the nasty bugger had read his thoughts, he squirmed. His narrowed eyes focused on the finger Gavin tapped against the trigger. The weasel’s hold around Sophie’s slender neck loosened, and she gasped a hungry breath.
“Let her go.” Gavin focused on Sophie’s face. “Now.” She held her chin defiantly high, the slight tremor of her full bottom lip her only sign of fear. Was she truly endowed with foolhardy courage? Or did she have more faith in him than he deserved?
A movement to his right caught his eye. A carriage, an elegant black brougham, curtains drawn, slowly emerged from the fog. Had the conveyance been lying in wait, prepared to carry Sophie into the darkness? The coach came toward them. The driver cracked the whip, his face concealed by a turned-up collar and low-slung fisherman’s cap, and the carriage sped past over the cobbles.
The oaf’s mouth hung agape as he stared after the vehicle with a look of panicked abandonment.
Bloody hell.No street criminal depended on such a luxurious conveyance. Unless said thug was in the employ of a person of means. Significant means, if the elaborate crest emblazoned on the brougham were any indication. Somewhere, he’d seen the symbol before. Could it be that a peer of the realm had sent this ruffian after Sophie?
“Stanwyck.” She squeaked out his name. Her eyes widened in silent warning.
He jerked around, spotting Reggie, blackjack in hand.Bugger it.He threw himself to the side, avoiding a blow to his skull. The cudgel crashed into his shoulder. Pain tore through him. Staggering, he forced himself to stay upright.
His peripheral vision caught sight of Reggie swinging the weapon in a vicious arc. The bludgeon slammed down again.
This time, Gavin dodged the blow. He wheeled about. Steadying himself, he rammed the barrel of the gun into his assailant’s belly. The gutter rat froze.
Gavin met his cold gaze. With his free hand, he wrenched the blackjack from the man’s dirt-caked fingers.
“Reggie, this creates a bit of a quandary. Do I shoot you?” He slanted a glance at the man who held Sophie. “Or him? Jack, as I recall.”
The hoodlum frantically shook his head. “No need to trouble yerself with me.” Reggie took off running, his stubby legs covering ground at a frantic pace.
Gavin turned his attention back to the towering hoodlum. “So, Jack, that leaves you. Shall we find out exactly how many bullets remain in these chambers?”
Fear flickered over Jack’s coarse features.
“Let her go and you’ll walk away.” Gavin affected a bored tone.
“How do I know ye’ll do what ye say?”
He shrugged. “You don’t. But you and I both know what is going to happen if you hurt her. Release her now, while you still can.”
To his amazement, the corners of Sophie’s mouth lifted. Christ, was she smiling? Had lack of air driven her bloody daft?
Was it his imagination, or did that chin of hers lift even higher?
