Page 128 of Notorious

The mob turned as if it were one creature, all eyes on him.

“’E’s a no good dirty tea leaf ’oo was trying to steal from my shop,” Jed said, throwing Gabriel an evil grin.

Gabriel lifted the pistol. “Stay where you are.”

The mob hesitated.

“’E can’t shoot all of us,” one of the men yelled.

“No,” Gabriel said, aiming his pistol at the man—obviously the leader. “But I can kill you.”

Jed flung away the rope. “Gimme back what’s mine, and I’ll tell ’em to let you go.”

“Where. Is. My. Son.”

“I’ll tell you after I get what you’ve taken.”

“Come and get it.”

Jed slid a look at his mob, whose spirits were rapidly cooling. “Let’s get him, lads.”

“Let’s not,” a bored voice said. Byer stepped out from behind the pawnbroker’s shop, his normally impeccable attire dirty, his coiffeur mussed.

“How the devil did you get free?” Jed growled.

“That hardly matters. What matters are these gentlemen.”

Men began filing out from behind the building: constables and Runners.

The crowd broke apart and scattered like cockroaches exposed to lamplight. When Jed looked ready to join them, a half-dozen men raised pistols.

“Not you, I think,” Byer said as five men came forward and grabbed the huge man.

Gabriel lowered his arm and strode toward Jed, prepared to rip him limb from limb. “Where is my son? Tell me now or so help me God I’ll—”

“We’ve already found the boy, Gabe.” Byer limped up to him, his buckskin breeches torn and bloody on one thigh. “He’s safe with the Parkers, who are spoiling him rotten by the way.”

“Thank God! How did you find him?”

“From this fine fellow.” The Runners dragged a tiny man out from the shadows.

Jed gave a sound of amazement. “Bloody ’ell, ’ow the devil did they get you, Paul?”

Gabriel stared: This was Big Paul? The man was not even as high as Byer’s shoulder.

Big Paul shrugged miserably at Jed’s question.

“I’m afraid Mr. Tompkins has far better connections than you, old chap,” Byer said, nodding to the men holding Paul. “You can take them both away now.”

Gabriel turned and ran toward the open door to the rope warehouse. Inside, Drusilla’s head was bowed and her shoulders were shaking.

He crouched down beside her, and she turned an anguished, tearstained face toward him. “I killed him, Gabriel.”

He wrapped an arm around her. “It was an accident, Drusilla.”

“I know, but . . .” Her voice broke, and she sobbed.

Gabriel knew what she meant: taking a life was never pleasant, no matter how it happened.