“No. I came by hackney,” she said.
“That way.” Her companion pointed toward the men.
They’d have to get through or around them to get her to safety.
“Let’s go.”
“I’ll look after her.”
“Don’t be a fool. There are six of them; you’re one man. Should they wish to not let us pass or realize she is a woman, and I don’t belong here, then we shall be in trouble,” Nathan snapped. “You should not have brought her to this place.”
“I brought myself!” she snapped back. Her voice was low and deep, the accent so thick he could barely understand her. However, he still felt the shiver of awareness.
Very odd.
“These streets can be dangerous at the best of times, but when a meeting such as the one we just witnessed is taking place, they can be volatile. Now, walk. Don’t make eye contact. If they speak to us, don’t stop.”
Again, they put her between them, and Nathan thought they’d made it around the men when one stepped in front of them.
“Money, and you can pass.”
“You’d rob one of yours,” the American said, which Nathan thought was stupid, as clearly, he was not a local.
“You’re not one of us,” the man scoffed.
The man wasn’t big but likely lived on these streets somewhere and knew how to get what he wanted. Knew how to fight dirty, just as his friends who were moving closer did.
“I have money. I’ll give it to you if you let us pass,” Nathan said, stepping forward, thereby putting the woman behind them.
“Well now, you don’t sound as though you should be here, my lord.” The man bowed, making the others laugh.
“I am not a lord,” Nathan said bracing his weight in preparation of the fight that was surely coming.
“How much money?” The men were now forming a wall before them.
“Enough.” Nathan pulled out his money pouch and held it out. The man reached for it; he kicked out with his foot.
“Run!” he roared as he felled the man, then started on the next.
The American swung his fists, and in seconds three had dropped, leaving three more. They fought, Nathan taking his next opponent out with a punch.
“Take that, you fiend!”
He turned to see the woman bring the butt of a pistol down on the head of a man. The American dropped the last. Her hood had fallen again. He saw the cloud of hair and the mask, but little else as the light allowed him nothing more.
Then someone ran into him, and he collided with her. Picking the woman up, he walked several paces instead of crushing her. Her body was pressed to his when he stopped, her hands on his shoulders, his on her waist. Nathan could feel her curves. Lovely full breasts, and rounded hips.
Behind him he heard the American dealing with who had run into him, but his sole focus was the woman he held.
“Are you all right?” He searched her eyes through the round holes of her mask but could read nothing.
She gave a jerky nod.
“Who are you?” Nathan whispered.
“No one that should concern you.”
One of her hands slid around his neck, urging him lower until their lips caught and held. He cupped the back of her head, angling it, and took her mouth deeper. Teeth clashing, lips clinging, it was fierce and fast, and over in seconds.
