Page 126 of An Imperfect Scoundrel
This was only a temporary solution. Once the second ship took post on their portside, there would be no place to hide. Either a bullet or the noose would claim their lives…
They needed a third option.
“Where is Mrs. Parker?” asked Cedric, realizing he hadn’t seen her since he’d sent her to find Mr. Hayward.
“I gave her a task,” Mr. Hayward replied.
They popped up, shot at the Naval ship again, then dropped back down.
“What could you possibly have instructed her to do in the middle of an attack?”
“She’s releasing the longboats.” Mr. Hayward reloaded his pistol.
“They’ll shoot her!”
“They’re shooting at us, and we need to get those boats into the water if we expect to survive this ordeal.” Mr. Hayward jerked his head toward the outer door. “Go! Rescue Mrs. Dubois. Give Evans a bullet from me. I’ll keep the Navy distracted.”
“It’s been a pleasure sailing with you,” Cedric replied, adding a formal nod, and passed him one of his pistols.
“And you.” Mr. Hayward stood, firing both guns.
Cedric turned his back, running for the outer door. When he reached the doorway, he grabbed hold of both sides and kicked the wood, repeating the action over and over until his foot became a blur of fury and desperation. The door exploded inward, revealing a hole large enough for Cedric to squeeze through.
He pulled himself through the opening, scraping his arm on the serrated wood, and tumbled into the ravaged corridor. His gaze sweeping the space, he listened for any sounds indicating that Alana was still alive.
Nothing.
As he continued toward his quarters, he issued a soft curse; the entrance to his cabin had disintegrated.
He wanted to call out to her, but he didn’t know where Mr. Evans was, and announcing his presence would rob him of the benefit of a surprise attack.
Creeping to the doorway, he peered around the side, his gaze sweeping over the destruction. When they landed on his bed and Mr. Evans, his trousers around his hips, his fingers wrapped around Alana’s neck, rage exploded in Cedric’s body.
He grabbed Mr. Evans by the collar of his shirt, without even recalling crossing the room, and ripped him from the bed. Snarling, Cedric flung Mr. Evans across the room, intending to throw him through the wall.
Mr. Evans crashed into one of the broken rafters, his body bending backward around the beam. He screamed out, his agony echoing in the room, then collapsed on the floor, moans pouring from his lips.
Bending over Alana’s immobile form, Cedric gently touched her cheek, his thumb moving across her lips. She exhaled a faint breath, but he felt the warm air against his skin, and relief flowed through his limbs, then his eyes dropped to her bare abdomen.
The vein in his jaw twitched.
Leaning down, he grabbed hold of her trousers and pulled them up her legs, covering her nudity. Then he spun and strode toward Mr. Evans, bearing down on him with such intensity that the man squeaked like a mouse.
Mr. Evans scooted under the rafter and scuttled backward past the table and chairs toward the far wall.
“There’s nowhere to hide,” Cedric snarled as he flipped the table, sending it flying over Mr. Evans’ head.
The table hit the wall above Mr. Evans and exploded into pieces, raining the fragments down upon him. He screamed, ducking his head, and curled into a ball, one arm extending toward Cedric in a plea for mercy.
“I didn’t do anything.”
“Try again.” Cedric stopped directly in front of Mr. Evans’ folded body, his cold gaze locking on the man’s terrified eyes as he drew his pistol.
“I may have tried to kill your cabinboy, but I didn’t penetrate her.” Mr. Evans clasped his hands together, his mouth working silent pleas.
“That isn’t what I saw.” Crouching, Cedric wove his hand through Mr. Evans’ hair and jerked his head up, slamming the muzzle of the gun underneath Mr. Evans’ chin.
“I swear!” Mr. Evans screamed out, twisting away from the gun, his eyes flicking toward the bed. “You can confirm it with her.”
