Hawk’s back was slammed against brick. Dark waves of oblivion rose around him.
“Anyfin’ we find on the nob, we get to keep. Ain’t that right, Big Jim?” another voice replied.
“That’s right. If ’e gives you any trouble, bash ’is bleedin’ noggin in.”
The pawing hands jolted Hawk. He flashed to moments in his life when he’d been preyed upon. The bullies at Eton beating him for being scrawny and studious. He hadn’t stood down then; he wasn’t about to now.
Rage pushed back his drugged haze.
He swung out with his fists, felt a satisfying crack. A bastard howled in pain, grabbing his broken nose. Hawk punched again and caused another man to double over. When a third man came at him, he feinted left and used the blackguard’s momentum to send him crashing into the brick wall. Another attacker plowed into Hawk, knocking him to the ground.
Hawk grappled with his foe. Even as his vision began to blur, he managed to get the upper hand, plowing his fists into the other’s face. Two men grabbed him by the arms, dragging him back, and he fought them with everything he had.
“For a stodgy, bookish fellow, Hawksmoor certainly holds his own.” Livy’s tone was dry. “Are you certain he needs our help?”
Watching the men brawling at the far end of the alleyway, Fiona saw with some shock that Hawksmoor knew how to put his fists to use. In fact, she thought with an appreciative tingle, he fought as well as he danced. If he hadn’t been drugged—she guessed that had to be the reason for his unsteady stance—he could have taken the four blighters on his own.
He battled like a warrior. Like a dashing hero.
Excitement shivered through her.Like my thief.
Fi tucked away her speculation for now. Waving a hand at the scuffling men, she said indignantly, “Not only is Hawksmoor outnumbered, but he’s obviously been drugged. We must assist him.”
“I thought he annoyed you.”
“He does. But I cannot allow him to get pummeled.”
“All right. Just remember we’re due back at the theatre soon.” Livy raised her brows. “And you’ll have to explain to Hawksmoor what we’re doing here dressed like this.”
“I’ll come up with something.” Fi removed the small pistol hidden in her skirts. “This won’t take long.”
Raising her arm, she let off a shot. The sharp crack echoed through the alleyway and interrupted the fighting. The men whipped their heads in Fi’s direction.
“Leave the toff alone,” she said. “And no one gets hurt.”
“Mind your own business, wench,” a brute spat.
“Leave the ladies to me.” A bearded man with a low-domed hat leered at Fiona. “You fellas take care o’ the nob; I’ve a mind for a quick upright.”
“Don’t come any closer,” Fi warned.
He advanced.
Taking aim, she fired.
“Bleeding ’ell!” He grabbed at the empty space above his head. Twisting, he looked at the ground behind him where his hat now rested, sporting a large new hole. “That was me favorite ’at!”
“It’ll be your favoriteheartnext.” Fi took out her dagger, letting the moonlight glint off its honed blade. “You and your gang ’ad better leave now.”
The bastard charged…because bastards always did.
She let her dagger fly. She aimed for his upper arm, a flesh wound to deter rather than do permanent damage. Not that one would know it from the way the brute screamed and slumped against the wall. Unfortunately, the sound spurred the other blackguards into action. Two came charging at Fi and Livy, while another grappled with Hawksmoor. The Angels adopted the fighting stances that Mrs. Peabody, their combat instructor, had taught them.
Mrs. Peabody’s advice played in Fi’s head.Your opponent will be larger, stronger. Therefore, you must be smarter.
Fi waited until the last possible moment to dodge her attacker, sticking her foot out as she did so. He tripped and went flying. When he rose, he was angrier than a hornet.
He swiped a hand at his bleeding nose. “You’re going to pay for that, you bleedin’ whore.”
