“You tried to kidnap me,” I seethed, “but took the wrong girl instead.”
“BecauseLourdeshad marked her. She sacrificed your cousin, selfishly trying to save your life.” His voice dropped to a coaxing whisper. “Accept my terms, and everyone you care about will be saved.”
The weight of our conversation pressed against my chest. Everything hinged on what I said next. The terror of messing up overwhelmed me. More than anything, I wanted to be able to look over my shoulder and find Whit, my uncle, or Abdullah standing behind me, telling me what they’d do.
If they’d risk everything on Mr. Sterling’s word alone.
“Come now, Inez,” he said in that same coaxing whisper. “What’s it to be?”
WHIT
That woman was going to be the death of me.
I stared after my wife, hardly believing my eyes. She had willingly climbed into that bastard’s carriage. I ran after it, yelling her name until my lungs burned. Why would she align herself with Mr. Sterling? Shewouldn’t. Doubt crept in, and I fought hard to beat it back. It took me a full minute to think it through logically, to make sense of her actions.
IknewInez. She was resourceful, reckless, curious. My wife had conviction and cared deeply for the people in her life. Her family. And that was me.
I was her family.
The night we shared swam in my mind. How she had clung to me, afraid that I’d disappear. That the magic wouldn’t work, that I’d end up worse than before. She had gripped my hand through the worst of it, as if by her touch alone she’d save me from death.
Inez was scared. So she’d come up with a plan, a desperate one. One that clearly didn’t involve me, but tough shit. All I could do was show up if she needed me.
I only had to prepare for all eventualities.
Three knives, two pistols, and one rifle, the latter of which I tucked into my scabbard strapped to my back. There was the tiniest amount left of the magic-touched ink and I dribbled it onto my wound, howling silently at the wretched sting. I rolled up the sleeves of my shirt and then took one last look, searching for anything else I might need, before locking the room behind me. The lobby was nearly empty as I strode past the front desk, but as I reached the entrance, I stopped, arrested by a sudden thought.
I stood frozen, silently considering.
The consequences would be severe if I was wrong. As in, Ricardo and Abdullah could remain in prison for averylong time. But I thought of Inez and what she’d do. My wife was a risk-taker, but more than anything, she had faith in herself.
My gut was telling me to proceed.
I turned and flagged down one of the hotel attendants.
“I’d like to send a telegram,” I said.
“Certainly, sir,” he replied. “By when?”
“Now.”
He nodded and went to retrieve a card and pencil. He gave me both and said, “I’ll have someone go to the office as soon as you finish.”
I looked down at the blank sheet, took a breath, and began writing. The hotel clerk handed me an envelope, and I tucked the note inside and gave it back to him.
“Thank you,” I said.
Mr. Sterling’s men were waiting for me the moment I stepped outside of the hotel. Three of them—one with pale blue eyes, another who wore a checkered shirt, and the last with shoes that had been polished to a glossy sheen.
I held up both hands as I walked down the steps, taking each one slow. “Hello, gentlemen,” I said pleasantly.
They tensed, raising their arms, hands curled into fists.
It would be quite a show out here in the middle of the dusty street. Using my rifle was out of the question. Already, several onlookers gathered, while women hustled their children out of sight. Polished Shoes came at me first, throwing a punch that I easily sidestepped. I used his momentum against him, yanking him forward, and he stumbled, body bent at the waist, and I slammed my elbow into the middle of his back. He went down hard on his knees, and a swift kick to his ribs sent him toppling over, moaning.
“Who’s next?”
The last two rushed forward, fists swinging. I threw my leg around the shorter one’s neck, forcing us both to the ground. Checkered Shirt gasped,fighting for air, his neck in the crook of my bent leg. Pale Blue Eyes aimed a kick to my side, and pain shot through to my limbs. Grunting, I clenched my thigh muscle, and Checkered Shirt ceased struggling.
