“Just pull my damn leg out of there.” Netta pressed her palms against the ceiling. “I don’t need my foot.”
“I’m sorry.” He took her hand, clasped it tight. “This is going to hurt.”
“Summerset!”
Something splashed into the water near the carriage.
John’s shoulders sagged. Finally. Something had gone right. “Wil! Get your arse in here.”
Wil’s dark shape maneuvered through the door.
John grabbed his shoulder and hauled him to Netta. “Hold her head above water.” And knowing his friend would take care of her, he dove down again without waiting for a response.
It took longer than he wanted. But after the third dive he was able to slide Netta’s foot free from her boot and out of the hole.
Wil swam from the carriage to the dock, pulling Netta with him.
John pulled himself up then reached down for her.
She wrapped her arms around his neck like she’d never let go. “You certainly know how to show a girl an exciting time.”
He held her close, hoping through sheer force of will to warm her body with his own. As they were both shaking, it likely wasn’t working. “Stick with me and you’ll never have a dull night.”
Her lips curved against his throat.
Wil helped him to rise with Netta in his arms.
“How did you find us?” John asked.
“I thought to escort you and Miss Netta to the theatre.” Wil picked his way to the canal ledge and retrieved a pistol. His limp was more pronounced from the cold. Although it would be nothing to the limp the bastard who’d done this would sport from his ruined ankle.
“Following me still?”
Wil stared at his boots. “There are other attractions at the theatre besides your ugly face.”
Wil shoved the pistol in the back of his trousers. “When I arrived at the club, I saw Nigel hollering to raise the dead. Following the carriage wasn’t difficult. It left a fair bit of destruction in its wake.” He walked to one of the horses that was standing huddled by a building. The other horse was further down on the jetty, half in and half out of the water, wheezing. Both of his forelegs were bent at unnatural angles. “I only wish I had found you in time,” he said quietly.
“There’s a man. He couldn’t have gotten far.” The cut to the Achille’s tendon wouldn’t lose enough blood to be dangerous, but it would keep him from running.
“I saw him.” Wil approached the injured horse softly, running his hand along the animal’s nose. “Paid a sailor to watch him for us. He didn’t get away.”
John nodded. He pressed Netta’s face into his chest, cupping her ear, but she still jerked when the gunshot sounded.
A life wasted. Wil gave the dead horse one last stroke then walked to them, his face grim. “I do hope you’ll let me in on the interview with the man who took your carriage.”
John nodded. “I’ll be back as soon as I see Netta home and get her a doctor. Don’t start the fun until I return.”
Wil pulled his shirt from his trousers and gave the ends a twist. “Bring me another change of clothes, will you?”
“Of course.” They turned down the street, keeping an eye out for a hackney. Three blocks over they found one.
Wil held the door and helped John in with Netta. He pounded on the side and turned, retracing their steps.
Netta curled closer to John. She undid the knot of his cravat and pulled it off, dropping the soaked cloth to the floor.
John raised an eyebrow.
She notched her head on his shoulder and rubbed her hand over his chest. “You did say to stick with you, though I dare say this isn’t what you had in mind.”
