Taking a moment to brace himself against every bump, Adrian clamped the blade tightly between his teeth and curled his fingers over the edge of the cabin. The driver threw him another look over his shoulder and instantly tried jamming his elbow against Adrian’s hands. An attempt to dislodge him.
A direct blow to Adrian’s knuckles nearlyaccomplished the feat. But Adrian held on tightly, his breath hissing against the tang of metal and blood from the blade. Muscles straining with the effort to stay in position, he released his right hand, grabbed the dagger, and plunged it into the driver’s side.
A howl erupted from the man’s throat, and his hold on the reins went slack as he fell forward in pain. Taking advantage, Adrian delivered a blow to the back of the man’s head, effectively knocking him out, then clambered onto the bench to regain control of the horses.
It took a moment before he managed to pull the carriage to a complete standstill. The horses whinnied loudly and shook their heads while stomping their hooves as if in protest, manes swaying in response to the movement. Snorts followed and the beasts finally settled down. He expelled a deep breath and sent the driver a sidelong glance when he groaned, the wound Adrian himself had sustained like hot coals imbedded beneath his flesh.
“Adrian?” Samantha’s voice was filled with concern as she spoke from the ground below. “Are you all right?”
“Been better,” he muttered, “but I’ll live.”
“And the driver?”
She’d barely asked the question before the man shifted his weight on the bench. A grunt of discomfort accompanied the movement. Adrian clamped one hand on the man’s thigh and pressed the other against his throat. “Who hired you?”
“Damn you to hell,” the man croaked.
Adrian peered into the hateful gaze staring back at him through the darkness. He removed his hand from the man’s thigh and grabbed the hilt of the dagger which still protruded from his side. A slight twist made him cry out and whimper in pain.
“I’ll ask you again,” Adrian said. “Who hired you?”
“Go rot,” the man rasped, the tendons in his throat flexing against Adrian’s palm.
“What do you stand to gain from letting me torture you like this?” Adrian asked when he twisted the blade again and the man still refused to speak.
“One thousand pounds,” he gasped. “To be collected once I deliver you to my employer.”
Samantha snorted. “Foolish idiot. Has it not occurred to you that you’ll not be collecting anything if you’re dead?”
“Give us the name we’re after, and you’ll at least walk away from this with your life,” Adrian told him, deciding to use Samantha’s comment for leverage. “While you decide on how to proceed, I suggest you consider the fact that I’m not unaccustomed to killing those who threaten my peace of mind.”
The driver muttered a curse. Adrian prepared to pull the dagger free so he could add weight to the threat he’d just made, only to hear the man say, “Inside pocket. Calling card.”
Adrian stilled for a second before releasing his hold on the dagger and shoving his hand into the man’s pocket. It took some fumbling, but he finally managed to pull a card free. The lettering though was hard tomake out in the darkness, so he handed it to Samantha and asked her to use the carriage lantern to read it.
Her voice was tight with anger when next she spoke. The name she uttered flung from her lips as though it were poison.
27
Cold fury snapped at Samantha’s nerves as she drove the carriage back into Town. The driver had been restrained and would soon be delivered to Bow Street.
Lucky him.
Had it been up to her, she’d have tortured him a few hours more for what he’d done to Adrian. Both men’s wounds would have to be seen to quickly, however, so they couldn’t afford to waste precious time.
She whipped the reins, acutely aware of her husband’s slumped figure beside her. It wasn’t until they’d tried to get the driver into the carriage that she’d realized how bad off Adrian was. His knees had nearly buckled, and that was when she’d seen the dark smear at his shoulder, illuminated by the light from the carriage lantern.
A shiver of dread rolled through her. For a second,she’d been back in The Toothless Cat Tavern, her body moving with instinctual purpose in her determination to shield Adrian’s body from harm.
She’d had no chance to do so this time, her only consolation the knowledge that the wound’s placement shouldn’t be lethal as long as they stopped it from getting infected. Considering how often such things happened, she urged the horses onward in her haste to get Adrian home. She sent up countless prayers as they drove and thanked the heavens that every street leading to Bow Street was empty.
“He and two others attacked us,” she told the Runners on duty while they helped unload the scoundrel from inside the carriage.
He stumbled onto the ground and snarled at her, but the length of cloth restraining his wrists held, even as he told the Runners, “It’s them who ought to be apprehended for nearly murdering me.”
One of the Runners noted the wound in the man’s side and arched a brow at Samantha. “Is that true?”
“Yes. He killed our coachman and stabbed my husband. We had to overpower him somehow.”
