White-hot fury burned along every vein. This was no longer a mere rescue mission. This was a battle against time to save Ami from the grasp of a man he never should have trusted.
And there was no way he could wait around while she was in such danger.
30
Ami’s heart hammered inside her chest, a captive fighting to be free. Just like her. She arched away from Mr. Fletcher’s defiling touch. If she could make it out of the office, she’d have a much better chance at negotiating with the criminals in the warehouse than the traitor in this room.
But that was a pretty big if.
There was nothing for it, then.
She jerked backward, drove her knee upward, and connected sharply with his groin.
Pain grunted out of him—strained, guttural—his mouth contorting into a big O.
Breaking free, Ami dove for the slate on the chair. Mr. Fletcher roared behind her. Her fingers closed around the slate’s cool surface, her grip desperate but her determination rock-solid.
She swung with all her might.
The slate cracked into Mr. Fletcher’s jaw, just below his ear. His head snapped to the side, his eyes wide with shock. Almost in slow motion, his legs buckled. A macabre sight. One that would surely haunt her in nightmares to come.
He collapsed to the floor with a heavy thud.
Sickened by her own violence, she leapt over his fallen body.
And bolted into bedlam.
Curses fouled the air. Men ran everywhere. Crates tipped. One brute rammed against her shoulder as he sped past. She stumbled to a halt, mind barely grasping the cause of the mayhem. There weren’t just drab-coated workmen here anymore. Bluecoats wielding clubs scurried about as well, rounding up those within reach. Could it be? Could help truly be here?
Once again she clutched the slate to her chest, this time filled with hope instead of despair. Peace poured over her like an anointing oil. God had seen fit to rescue her despite her failures and shortcomings. Despite her striving and reaching and trying to be an Egyptologist and a shadow broker saving relics of earth and dust.
Thank You, God. Oh, thank You for saving me—in more ways than one.
She took a step toward the large receiving doors ahead of her.
And was instantly yanked backward.
Hard metal poked against the side of her belly. Hot breath huffed against the back of her neck. The arm wrapped around her neck was an iron band.
“I walk free, ye cuffin’ coves, or this woman bleeds out here and now!” Mr. Flick’s gravelly voice rumbled at her back.
The three policemen nearest her exchanged glances. One nodded.
And they all retreated.
No! This couldn’t be happening. Not now. Not when she should be walking out that open door!
A sinking ship full of rats scurrying for safety couldn’t writhe more than the thugs pouring out of Wormwell’s warehouse. When the police wagon had first passed Edmund, he’d been worried the bluecoats would hold him at bay while they rounded up Wormwell and his men. A vain concern, that. The moment the lawmen were spotted, shabby-coated ruffians fled from every possible exit, fully occupying the attention of the officers. Everycurse, each panicked bootstep reverberated through the night air. The frenzied lawlessness mocked the very concept of law and order.
Which was perfect. The frantic scuttle unwittingly shielded him from the gaze of the law. Not that the bark of a policeman would have stopped him anyway. Edmund stormed through the open front door, shouldering past two thugs as if they were nothing but gnats. They were too intent on bolting out of there. In this half of the building, darkness reigned. Large rows of shelving blocked most of the light from the far end of the warehouse. He ran pell-mell down the main aisle toward that glow, two thoughts powering every stride.
Save Ami.
Stop Gil.
Yet before he left the cover of shadows, he stopped. So did his heart. Ahead, a broad-shouldered brute wrapped one of his thick arms around the neck of a woman in a green gown, peacock feathers drooping from waist to floor. His other hand pressed a knife to her side.
And the police—the defenders of the weak, the protectors of the frail—were backing off.
