Breathing hard, Gavin felt a restraining grip on his arm.
"Have a care," Morgan said quietly. "Percy's life is at stake."
"Indeed," Kingsley drawled. "Your weapons, gentlemen."
With no other choice, Gavin and Morgan allowed Kingsley's men to take their guns. They were shoved to their knees, their hands trussed behind their backs. Guards surrounded them as Kingsley pulled up a chair and sat, smirking. "You were told to come alone, Hunt. Who is your friend here?"
"I am the Marquess of Harteford." Gavin had to give Morgan credit. Though bound like a pig for the spit, the fellow's voice rang with authority. "I demand that you release Miss Fines immediately."
Kingsley laughed. "A nob, eh? Well, your demands are no good here, dear fellow."
"What about my coin?"
Kingsley's eyes narrowed, and Gavin could practically see the wheels of greed spinning in the bastard's head. "Go on."
"A thousand pounds," Morgan said evenly, "for setting us free."
"Not a bad offer." Kingsley signaled to the brute holding Percy.
Gavin grit his teeth as the guard dragged Percy down the steps none too gently. Smiling, Kingsley gestured for her to be brought over. When the bastard pulled her into his lap, Gavin roared, jumping to his feet. The guard's fist slammed into his jaw and knocked him to the ground. Blood gushed in his mouth, lights dancing behind his eyes. Then Percy's muffled cries broke through, and he struggled to get up. The guard held him down with a boot to the chest, crushing him against the floor. An object stabbed through the back of his jacket.
Glass.Though his wrists were bound, he edged his fingers upward beneath his back, trying to get at the shard. He encountered grit, useless bits. Then he grasped it. The sharp edges cut into his fingers as he began to saw it back and forth against the ropes, careful to keep his movements slight. Not that he need have worried—the guard was focused on the negotiations.
"Let her go." Morgan's voice had a lethal edge. "I'll give you the money."
"Surely this spitfire is worth more than a thousand pounds," Kingsley mused, running a finger down Percy's arm.
One of the ropes gave a little.Almost there.Gavin could almost feel his hands wrapping around Kingsley's neck.
"How much do you want?" Morgan said.
"Ten thousand pounds," Kingsley said.
Morgan didn't blink. "Done. You release Miss Fines and Mr. Hunt. When I have proof of their safety, I will go with you to get the money."
"I'm afraid that won't be possible." Gavin stilled as Magnus' voice came from above. The old man hobbled down the stairs. "This wasn't part of the plan, Kingsley."
"For ten thousand pounds, I'll consider an amendment," his partner replied.
"Give Hunt and Morgan to me," Magnus said. "Keep the girl. You can ransom her from her family or keep her as your whore. 'Tis up to you."
The ropes slid from Gavin's wrists. Grasping the glass shard, he forced himself to remain still. To watch and wait for the moment to attack. From his position, he counted more than a dozen armed men. Too many to take on—he'd have to go straight for their leader. Grab Kingsley and signal Kent to attack. Yet how could he get Percy to safety before all hell broke loose? Perhaps the large cauldron in the corner would shield her from the gunfire...
"You're... Jack Spades, aren't you?" Morgan's haunted voice cut into his planning. The marquess' face had drained of color, a quiver crossing his wide shoulders. "I... I remember you."
For some reason, Percy nodded emphatically, her words muffled by the cloth.
Who the hell is Jack Spades? Why does Morgan look like he's seen the devil himself?
An icy hand gripped Gavin's gut as Magnus laughed—a menacing sound that was at odds with the old man's decrepit shell.
"And as I recall, you were one of Grimes' pets, my lord," Magnus purred. "Perhaps even his favorite?"
The marquess flinched. Anger roiled in Gavin's veins, his grip tightening on the glass.Morgan had no choice, you bastard. He didn't deserve his fate—any more than I did.
"What do you want?" Morgan said in a low voice.
"I've been keeping an eye on you for some time. From the gutter to theton—not many could pull it off. To top that, three years ago you survived my associate's attempt at blackmail." Magnus shook his head. "You're a tough bastard, your lordship, make no mistake about that."
