Jenna Petersen - [Lady Spies] (20 page)

“’Course I remember you,” she interjected, hoping to distract him from his thoughts. “I figured you was an unsatisfied customer. But that’s no reason to drag me up here.”

Leary lunged for her with surprising speed for a man of his size. He grasped the front of her dress and yanked her to her feet, tearing the thin fabric at the seam of her sleeve.

“Enough foolishness, girl. I know you saw me with my…
friends
. You saw what we were doing. I can’t let you live after all that.”

Terror gripped Emily’s heart, but she tamped it down. She had to fight, not cower. And she had to do it now.

“That’s a shame, because I’m not ready to die,” she cried as she threw a knee upward. It felt like she hit solid rock, but the move worked because Leary’s grip on her loosened as he bent over in pain.

“Little whore,” he roared as he threw her off.

Emily flew backward, smashing against a nearby chair with a painful crash. She rolled to the side and flipped back up on her feet, sweeping her parasol into her hand as she moved. Leary straightened up, eyes dark with anger and pain as he moved toward her like a charging bull.

Emily had nowhere to run in the tiny room, so she took the steadiest stance she could and readied herself to hurl the parasol when he was close enough. But she didn’t have the chance.

The door to the room flew open just as she swung back to smash a blow down on Leary’s skull. Grant framed the doorway, the hat that was part of his costume slightly cockeyed and his eyes blazing with fire as his gaze fell on Leary.

“Get the hell away from her,” he growled as he jumped forward.

Leary didn’t hesitate. Immediately he wheeled away from her and crashed toward Grant instead. The two men met in the middle of the small room, fists flying just as they had each time the two men came in contact in the past.

Only this time Emily knew the fight would only end when one of them was dead.

T
his fight was only going to end when one of them was dead, and Grant didn’t have any intention of being the one bleeding when it was over. His rage was too potent, his anger too focused. Seeing Emily with Leary bearing down on her and her only protection that ridiculous
parasol
, for God’s sake…it was too much.

He blocked one of Leary’s punches and returned one of his own. The crunch of bone beneath his fist and Leary’s muted groan were reward enough to last a lifetime. He wanted this man to bleed for all his past sins.

Leary swooped low and his fist came up unexpectedly, hitting Grant’s chin and making him stagger back as his mind briefly clouded. Damn, he had to be more careful. With Leary’s strength it would only take a couple of well-placed punches and he would find himself on his back.

He threw a shot that connected in the flabby folds of Leary’s gut. The other man doubled over with a grunt, allowing Grant time to yank his pistol from his belt. He leveled it at the villain, but before he could announce to the bastard that he was finally under arrest, Leary reared up with the sudden strength of a wild stallion and smacked the pistol aside.

The weapon clattered away from Grant’s reach as Leary hit him with the full weight of his hefty body. Grant smashed backward into the opposite wall where the other man pinned him across the throat with the smashing strength of a meaty forearm.

Grant fought, trying to unpin his arms and use his legs to stomp at Leary’s feet, but the well-trained prizefighter dodged his blows and shifted his position so Grant no longer had purchase to push away from the wall.

Blackness began to creep in around Grant’s eyes, his head spun and the column of his windpipe strained as less and less air moved into his painful lungs.

Leary smiled, eyes wide as he watched Grant struggle for life, then he leaned forward. “First I’m gonna kill you. And by the time I do the same to her, she’ll be begging me to end her life. Die knowing that.”

Grant gave one last feeble push against Leary, but his oxygen-deprived limbs were too weak. The war with unconsciousness and eventual death was slowly being lost. Grant’s mind clouded, but one thought still rang clear in his mind.

Emily. And of how unfair it was that he was going to die without ever getting to see her smile again. Without getting to hold her or kiss her or tell her how much he loved her.

The blackness was almost victorious, but just before he lost his senses, he heard Emily’s voice.

“Not if I make you beg first, you bastard!”

Then Leary’s weight was mysteriously gone and air filled Grant’s lungs. He staggered forward and found himself falling into Emily’s arms.

“Grant, Grant!” Emily cried, her voice stronger now that his fog was fading. She struggled to keep him upright. “Say something.”

He coughed past his raw, sore throat, gasping for breath to clear his mind and reassure her. But when he was able to see her clearly, the only thing he could say was, “Emily.”

She smiled as he stood up, weaving a little before he managed to regain balance. His mind calmed and he looked down in the hopes he would understand what the hell had just happened.

Cullen Leary lay at their feet a few steps away. He was sprawled on his stomach, his head twisted at an unnatural angle against the wall where he had nearly snuffed out Grant’s life. His eyes were open, glassy, and blood trickled from a huge gash at the back of his head. Nearby lay Emily’s bloody parasol.

Grant blinked. Was he dead? Was this a dream? How could someone bludgeon someone else with a woman’s umbrella?

Emily followed his line of vision and shrugged. “I hit him,” she explained, as if the entire scene should make sense to him with those three words. “And then he hit the wall.”

He blinked at her before he crouched down and tried to find a heartbeat. After a moment, he gave up and looked up at Emily instead.

“You killed a man with a
parasol
?” he asked, incredulous.

She nodded, then picked up the item and held it out to him. When he took it, he couldn’t believe what he felt. The little lady’s umbrella was heavily weighted.

“A billy club?” he stammered.

She smiled. “Courtesy of Anastasia Tyler.”

He shook his head as he rose up and looked at her. She was safe, in fact she had saved
him
. He’d never known a stronger or better woman. One who moved him more. And he loved her. Perhaps it had taken the threat of death to reveal it, but it was true.

“Emily—” he began softly, cupping her chin.

To his surprise, she backed away from his touch, her gaze drifting down. “We should find Ana and Lucas. This is over now.”

Over. Grant stepped toward her. That was what they had agreed upon, but was it what she truly wanted? If he loved her, could she really be indifferent to him?

Before he could ask, the door flew open and Lucas Tyler appeared, flanked by half a dozen agents, including Charles Isley. Apparently, the Tylers had been prepared for any contingency, even if that meant finally reporting the case to the authorities.

But Grant couldn’t manage to care, even when the room erupted into chaos around them. There was yelling, demands for answers as the men swarmed around Grant, trapping him in the corner.

All he cared about was Emily. She cast one glance over her shoulder at him. And then she walked away.

Emily fiddled with the hem of her gown as she stood at her parlor window, staring at the dreary scene outside. Finally the bitterly cold snap that had punctuated the long winter had ended, but had been replaced by heavy, dark clouds and pouring, icy rain.

It was rather befitting her mood, actually.

In the past few days, she had been lectured to, yelled at, doted upon, and hardly left alone with her thoughts. Charlie had been at turns grateful for her service and angry at her deception.

Under normal circumstances, those encounters with her superior would have been the cause for her turbulent emotions, but they weren’t. Something far more troubling haunted her.

Grant. She hadn’t seen him since the evening at The Blue Pony when she turned her back on him and made good on their agreement to end their affair when the case came to a close.

“Come and have some tea,” Ana encouraged her.

Meredith nodded. She and Tristan had arrived in London that morning and she’d demanded to know all the details of what had transpired. Emily had been explaining herself ever since.

“Yes. I want to know what Charlie said to you today before my arrival.”

Emily trudged away from the window and took her seat between the two other women.

“He told me the case was resolved,” she said with little emotion. “Apparently one of the Prince Regent’s servants was disgruntled by his treatment. He hired Cullen Leary to help him steal some of the Prince’s favorite pieces from his personal gallery using the actor as a means for breaking into Carlton House. I think he saw it as a personal attack. A way to get money from the sale of the stolen work, and hit the Prince where it would hurt him most. His vanity.”

Meredith smiled, excitement in her stare. Ana’s eyes held the same emotion. They were thrilled the case was over and all had been solved. Emily couldn’t feel the same.

“I heard the actor confessed to everything before Charlie even closed the interrogation room door,” Ana laughed.

Meredith chuckled. “How Charlie must have loved that. He has always enjoyed the theatre.”

Ana nodded. “Oh yes, the little man gave quite a performance. He cried and begged.”

Emily pushed to her feet and paced restlessly. “Yes, all is well. Everything is resolved. And despite his anger at me for concealing the case, Charlie has informed me that I will no longer be kept from work. So we can all go back to our normal lives, as if none of this ever happened.”

Meredith and Ana exchanged a look.

“Why do I feel like this isn’t a moment for congratulations?” Meredith asked slowly.

Emily shrugged, but was horrified when tears began to sting her eyes. What was wrong with her? She was about to dissolve into hysterics like a ninny.

Ana rose to her feet and came to her. Her gentle friend put a warm arm around her shoulders and squeezed. “Have you spoken to Grant since that night?”

Emily shrugged the comforting touch away. It was like pouring salt in the wound to talk about it. “No. Why would we?”

“You were partnered on the case, I assumed you would speak,” Meredith said. “Though I do understand that the War Department is giving him all the accolades for bringing Leary to justice. I know you hate that our group never gets the credit.”

“I don’t care about that,” Emily said, waving off the news with one hand.

If Grant was being recognized for his heroism and bravery, it was nothing he didn’t deserve. At least she could be satisfied that he, too, had been given his due respect for solving the case.

“But you do care about him.” Ana tilted her head. “And that is the problem, isn’t it?”

“You tried to bring up this poppycock before,” Emily protested.

“If it’s poppycock, then why are your eyes filling with tears?” Meredith asked, her eyebrows arching.

Emily looked down as one fat tear hit her hand. Well, there was no denying it now. She turned away and tried to overcome her emotion, but it welled up and overflowed as a sob broke from her throat. Instantly, Ana wrapped her arms around her and hugged her tight. Meredith joined them and the three women stood together for a moment.

Emily struggled to stop the flow of tears, fighting to remember her strength. To remember all the reasons why things had worked out for the best. And slowly, she was able to stop crying.

“Come here,” Meredith directed, leading her to the settee. The two women sat together while Ana took the closest chair. “Now tell us the real story. The one you’ve withheld all this time.”

Emily hesitated. Perhaps if she talked about what had happened, she could close the door on her feelings once and for all.

“We—We became lovers the day I revealed my true identity,” she admitted slowly.

Ana nodded. “I thought that might be the case.”

“Was it so obvious?” Emily asked in horror.

“No,” her friend reassured her. “There were just little things. A grazing touch, a look exchanged from across a room. Someone would only notice those things if they were looking for them, I promise you.”

Meredith touched her hand. “And what happened after that?”

Emily drew in a shuddering breath. “We both knew the desire between us, the physical draw, that was all we could ever have. So we vowed that when the case ended, so would our affair. We both agreed to those terms. I simply fulfilled them.”

Ana tilted her head. “Emily, dearest, why couldn’t you be more to each other than lovers? I don’t understand. You’ve always avoided the men who were interested in you, but you’ve never said why.”

Emily flinched. That wasn’t a story she wanted to reveal, even to her friends. So instead, she struck on the other reason she and Grant couldn’t be together. “He told me again and again that my being in constant danger was too much for him. After watching another woman he cared for die, he could never love a spy.”

Meredith wrinkled her brow as if she didn’t believe that could be true. “But if you love him, there must be a way—”

“I don’t,” Emily said, getting to her feet.

She had been repeating that statement to herself since she left Grant behind at The Blue Pony. Reminding herself that she didn’t love him. And that he didn’t love her.

But it was getting harder and harder to believe every time she said it. Especially when it was so often accompanied by powerful pangs of loss.

“Then why are you so sad?” Ana asked softly.

“It’s the end of a case,” Emily sighed. “And that is always difficult. In time, I’ll forget about Grant. Forget what we shared. I’ll continue the way things were. I must. There isn’t any other choice. There are too many cases to be solved. Mysteries to be unraveled. Those things will keep me company.”

In fact, she had one last mystery to solve that was related to this case. And she had an appointment in just an hour to handle it. Perhaps once she had done that, she would be able to forget Grant as she knew she must.

And if she couldn’t? Then she would ask for cases that would take her away from the city. The idea of being away from her friends stung, of course. But the idea of seeing Grant, watching him at parties flirting with other women, eventually marrying one…No, that was too much.

“Emily, I hate to see you so sad. So lonely,” Ana whispered.

Emily shrugged. “I—I’m not lonely,” she lied. “I have my work again, and that is enough.”

It had to be.