“Are you insane? I could hit Bella.” He clutched the dash as they veered around a monstrous pothole.
“Do you have a better idea?” Kit hollered above the rumble of the wheels.
Hang it all! No, he didn’t. But he’d have to come up with something fast. The blood on Kit’s blouse bloomed all the larger. Grabbing hold of the hem of his sherwani, he ripped the fabric in a long strip then held it out in one hand. “At least bind that bleeding until we catch up. I’ll take the reins.”
She didn’t spare him a glance, but she did comply. Leather firmly in his grip, he urged the horses onward. Much too slowly for his liking, he edged closer to Child’s coupé, though the brigand was still several streets ahead. It didn’t help that at this hour the city was slowly waking. Jackson narrowly missed a boy on a bicycle towing a cart of newspapers, and curses rang from the delivery man he’d cut off.
Yanking hard on the reins, he wheeled them around a corner.
“Oof!” Kit grunted. “I’m nearly done but take it easy.”
“I’m gaining on him. His carriage is lighter, prone to swaying and skidding as he takes a corner, so we have the advantage.”
Ahead, the coupé turned yet again. Good! For once the maze of London streets worked in his favour. But this time when he reached the next turning point, Jackson yanked on the reins, stopping them flat. “Blast!”
He stared down the darkened passage at the fleeing villain, his own barouche too wide to fit through such a thin throat. Anger boiled in his gut. Hot. Fierce. That blackguard was getting away with his daughter, his flesh, his blood, his heart. He angled, poising to leap and chase them down like the dogs they were.
But Kit’s hand on his arm held him back.
“Let me.” She grabbed the ribbons. “That passage ends in a T, and I know where he’ll spit back out on the road.”
The horses bolted. He once again grabbed the dash. “There are two sides to that T,” he hollered. “How do you know he won’t turn the other way?”
“Because the Limehouse Lashers blocked one end up years ago as a way to control their territory.”
Years ago? Bah! Any number of things might’ve changed since then. “I hope you’re right.”
“I hope so too.” Fear tightened her voice.
The same fear that stole the air from his lungs. Even if they did catch up—no, when!—there was no telling what sort of state Bella might be in after such a harrowing ride. Squinting, he strained to see ahead as Kit rounded the next corner on what felt like only two wheels.
“There he is!” Jackson pointed at the dark blob of a carriage many streets ahead.
“Are you sure that’s a coupé and not a cab?”
“As sure as you were about that T.”
She urged the horses to a lather. They wouldn’t last much longer at this rate, but…yes…that was Child’s coupé. He’d bet his life on it—and just may lose it if things didn’t go as planned. “It’s him all right.”
Holding a steady course, Kit gained on them. Jackson pulled his gun and cocked the hammer. Timing and precision would be everything now. As much as he wanted to take out the brute holding the reins, a driverless carriage would crash, with Bella inside. He just couldn’t take the chance. It would be tough, but with God’s help, the moment Kit pulled alongside them, he’d aim for the horses’ legs.
“Steady,” he warned as Kit closed in on them, their horses’ noses practically kissing the back bumper of Child’s coupé.
But then the coupé turned again, this time onto London Bridge. Child surged ahead, their heavier barouche no match on the straightaway.
“Come on. Come on!” Kit snapped the reins like a whip.
Jackson released the hammer, frustrated beyond measure. Would this cat-and-mouse game never end? Child’s coupé reached the end of the bridge deck before they made it even halfway. But then—what was this? Jackson narrowed his eyes.
“Looks like he’s, no…can’t be.” He leaned ahead, straining to see. “He’s turning around.” His eyes widened. “He’s coming right for us!”
“Well, we’ll just see who flinches first.”
Pulling his gaze from Child’s coupé, he glanced at his wife, heart clenching at the determined set of her jaw. “Kit, that’s our child in there. Do not think to crash into him.”
“Just have your gun ready. You ought to be able to take out that driver with one shot.”
“You’re mad!” He shoved the gun back into his holster. “I’m not going to shoot here on the bridge. Those horses go out of control and Bella will be plunged into the Thames.”
