“I will end you, Stafford, never doubt that now,” Jackson hissed. “Your death will come at my hands—if not now, then soon!”
Two against one became three against one, and Jamie’s body began to take the punishment. Fists to his gut, knees to his ribs, a brutal swing that split his lip. He gave as good as he got, but the numbers weren’t in his favor. He managed to punch Jackson again, and this time he stayed down. At least he would meet his maker, if that happened, knowing he’d inflicted pain on the man who had given him the same and worse.
Jamie spat blood onto the cobbles as a fist smashed into his stomach, folding him in two. Another cuff caught him behind the ear, sending stars spinning across his vision. He staggered, nearly dropped to his knees.
And then—
“Stop!”
A voice cut through the night like a whipcrack.
All four men turned. Jamie managed to straighten.
Alice stood a few feet from them, cloak thrown back, pistol raised with both hands. Moonlight gleamed off the steel barrel, and her eyes blazed with fury. At her side was a boy.
“Step away from him,” she said, voice ice cold.
For a moment, none of them moved. Then one of the men laughed. “Well, ain’t this a pretty picture? Little lady come to rescue her lord with a mongrel. Put that pistol away, sweetheart, before you hurt yourself.”
“I ain’t no mongrel like you,” the boy said in a hard voice. “You’re scum.”
Alice cocked the pistol with a snap that echoed off the walls and fired as one of the men lunged for the boy. He staggered back, clutching his shoulder, howling in pain.
Jamie pulled his pistol from his pocket. He could barely see as his vision was blurred and his body one big ache.
“Give me that.” Alice took his pistol and handed hers to the boy. She aimed it at the only man still standing. “Now we are leaving, and if you try and follow, I will shoot you as I have your friend.”
Jamie was looking at Alice, but when he turned back, it was in time to see Jackson fleeing, throwing over his shoulder the words, “You’ll die at my hand soon, Stafford!”
“Damn,” he muttered, knowing there was no chance he could follow in his current condition.
“We will get him, but now we are leaving,” Alice said in a cool, clear voice. “Can you walk, my lord?”
“Aye,” was all Jamie could manage. “You go first, Alice.”
If the man decided to come at them for retribution, it would be through Jamie, even if his body was one large ache, and hewasn’t sure how much longer he’d be standing. He’d been in pain before, and this was no different.
“Foolish men,” she muttered as one of the thugs hoisted his friend over his shoulder and disappeared into the darkness behind Jackson.
“Alice,” he rasped. “You shouldn’t be here.”
“You’re welcome,” she said tartly, though he noted her hands trembled as she lowered the pistol. “Now, can you walk or not?”
“Of course, I can walk,” Jamie said, straightening, only to wince as pain lanced through his ribs. “Mostly.”
“Mostly will not do.” She slipped an arm around his waist, ignoring his protests. “Take his other side, Bobby.”
The boy moved and slid an arm around Jamie’s back.
“Come on. Hackney’s waiting.”
“I don’t need—”
“Do not finish that sentence,” she snapped, hauling his weight with surprising strength. “You’ll only embarrass yourself.”
Jamie gave a hoarse laugh, then groaned. Together they stumbled down the lane. Alice helped support him, pistol still clutched in her free hand. Jamie cursed under his breath with every jolt, but he let her guide him.
The hackney driver’s eyes went wide as they approached. “Good Lord!”
