The hilt hit the man’s skull. A sickening thud. And yet as his eyes rolled back and he dropped like a felled log, never had she been so grateful.
But that didn’t mean the war had been won.
She opened her mouth wide and screamed.
Then waited in silence.
Let them think she’d been bested. Killed. Because all she had now to help Jackson and Bella was the element of surprise.
Gripping the knife all the tighter, she crept towards the corridor as footsteps rushed out the front door.
No, no, no! Surely the villains weren’t getting away. Surely she’d not find her husband and child dead on the sitting room floor…would she?
Her heart stopped, and it took everything inside her to keep edging onward, blade ready for retribution.
Jackson swung into the dining room, murder pumping through his veins. A lightning flash of steel arced towards his face. He lurched back just in time to feel a whoosh of air against his cheek.
A sharp intake of breath cut the silence—Kit’s.
“Jackson?” His name was a shiver, her blue eyes blazing in the shadows.
And he’d never loved her more in all his life.
Thank You, God! Thank You for sparing my wife.
But then his gaze fixed on where her hand pressed against her side. Shredded fabric and blood mingled together in an ugly mess. “You’re hurt!”
“Never mind me. Where is Bella?”
Thunderation! That bleeding needed to be stopped—but Child was getting away.
Kit shoved past him. “Where is she!”
He grabbed her arm. Clearly Kit wasn’t quite at death’s door yet. “Tend to your wound. I’ll go after her.”
He charged into the front hall and yanked open the top drawer of the entry table, snatching out his Colt single action.
“Don’t you dare think you’re leaving me here,” Kit hissed as he shoved open the door.
There was no time to argue the point. Child’s carriage was already a dark spot in the night, the cad leaving behind one of his own men. Jackson raced to the barouche and hollered at Shivaji as he swung up to the seat. “Follow that hack!”
Twisting, the big Punjabi held out his hand. “Money first.”
“You’ll get your blasted money when we return. Go!”
Shivaji’s hand didn’t waver. “Now, sahib, or I walk.”
“Then have a nice stroll.” Kit leapt up to the driver’s seat with a groan and snatched the reins from where they looped over the whip socket.
“Kit, you cannot seriously—” Jackson smacked against the seat as she cracked the horses into action.
Shivaji jumped ship.
And the chase was on.
Fighting for balance, Jackson worked his way to the front of the carriage and grabbed hold of the side rail—barely. At this speed, if she took a corner, he’d fly off. A grunt and a heave later, he climbed to the driver’s seat next to Kit. “Give me those ribbons!”
She shook her head, gaze pinned sharply on Child’s carriage in the distance. “You’re a better shot than I am. I’ll get us in range, then you take out the driver.”
