Page 36 of A Lady's Handbook of Espionage
One down. Two to go.
The second assassin charged, but Emma brought her heel down on the man’s instep. He rounded on her. Backhanded her across the face. Emma grabbed the fire poker and swung hard.
The third assassin went for Isabel and pinned her to the mattress. His hand closed around her throat, choking off her air. Stars burst in her vision as she clawed at his grip.
Just as the darkness began to close in, the man’s fingers loosened, and Isabel sucked in a desperate inhale. Alexandra lunged from the shadows, snatched the fire poker from Emma, and brought it down on his head with a crack. He went limp and collapsed to the floor.
Alexandra rose to her feet. “You know, I don’t believe I’ve ever struck a man with a poker before. It’s remarkably satisfying.”
A ragged burst of laughter escaped Isabel at that.
The thunder of approaching footsteps drew her attention. She tensed, preparing for another fight, but it was only the Earl of Kent and his brother.
They skidded to an abrupt halt. Mr Grey – the brother – looked almost comically disappointed. “Don’t tell me I missed a chance to shoot someone.”
Alexandra arched a brow. “Perhaps if you’d hurried a bit faster, you might have been useful.” She turned to the earl, beaming with childlike enthusiasm. “James, did you know I got to hit a man with a poker tonight?”
Isabel’s vision blurred again as the earl fussed over Emma.
“Don’t mind me,” Isabel rasped. “I’m only bleeding to death over here.”
Emma rushed to her side. “You seemed robust enough to fling a knife with deadly accuracy.”
“Small mercies.” Isabel collapsed back into the pillows, exhaustion washing over her. “Send for your Home Office spy, please. I’d like to see the dawn.”
12
Callahan stood before the hearth in the safe house with his hands braced on the mantelpiece.
Behind him, hushed voices sounded – Emma and Kent sat beside each other with their heads bent together in some private conference. Isabel perched on a chair to the left of her sister, looking like she might bolt at any second. She hadn’t spoken a single fucking word to him since they’d arrived.
When Lady Alexandra’s messenger had shown up at his flat with news of Isabel’s surrender, he’d laughed. Actually fucking laughed. The same woman who’d looked him dead in the eye in Belgravia and said—
You were a pleasant diversion in Hong Kong. A nice big cock to ride and a purse to lighten.
His fingers dug into the mantelpiece.
But your utility, like your charm, has reached its limit.
She hadn’t come for him. That much was clear. She was here because the Syndicate wanted her head on a spike, and he was her last resort. When the doctor examined her knife wounds, she’d stared at the floor like he wasn’t even in the room. Hell, she’d looked everywhere but at him when he showed her where she’d sleep for the night.
Like he was poison.
Just put her on a fucking boat and get rid of her.
Callahan turned, his face carefully blank. “We’ll have new identities sorted for both of you. Complete with travel papers. Then it’s a nice trip across the Atlantic to throw off the Syndicate’s trail.”
“Oh yes, a holiday is just perfect,” Isabel said, examining her nails. “I do so hope you plan to travel with us, Mr Callahan. Just imagine the stimulating conversation over newspapers and weak tea each morning. The excitement is mounting already.”
She was pushing him away with both hands, throwing up walls of jagged glass and metal.
He understood. It was what they did, people like them. The walking wounded, the ones who’d learned early and often that caring was weakness.
But that didn’t make her rejection sting any less.
“I won’t be staying,” he said. “After we disembark, I’ll be handing your arse off to another poor sod. I’m allergic to attempted murder at close quarters. But I assure you the arrangements will be most comfortable, given that I’d rather leave you bleeding out in a ditch.”
Isabel’s eyes narrowed. “Comfortable,” she repeated. “I hope that includes booking us passage on separate ships since I’m allergic to overbearing jailers with delusions of control.”
