The Fighter and the Fallen Woman (25 page)

Jonathan came forward with a blow that glanced off King’s jaw, and that seemed to open the floodgates. Punches landed with thick, wet smacks, and blood flew to spatter those in the first few rows. The crowd was roaring like a beast out of control but grunts of pain could still be heard from the combatants if one was listening. Lady stood frozen beside Mr. Adams and he was so captivated by the fight, he seemed not to notice how tense she was. She’d already bitten her lip to blood, now she was clenching her teeth. She was so close to dropping to her knees and screaming until either it stopped or she did.

In a flurry that left Lady reeling, King managed to stagger Jonathan with three hard blows to the head, then double him over with a powerful blow to the gut. He pulled his left fist up to the level of his head and, at the peak of the motion, held it there just long enough for the crowd to suck in a gasp. For Lady, time stood still and she would swear she could see each expression, count each tooth in each open mouth, but she wouldn’t look away from King. She blinked and almost missed the drive of King’s fist into Jonathan’s temple, knocking the man flat to the ground and out cold. The crowd started screaming so loudly the referee couldn’t be heard. The only thing marking the count was the pulse of his fingers counting out the numbers.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

When the referee held up all ten fingers, the crowd rushed King, hoisting him up on their shoulders. Lady briefly wondered what had happened to Jonathan but looking up and seeing King smiling drained her of any thought other than a prayer of thanks.

One of the runners darted close to them and Mr. Adams grabbed him by the sleeve. “Bring the money man over here now and I’ll give you five pounds,” he shouted above the crowd. Lady could barely hear him over the roar, but she knew the boy did because his eyes lit up like he’d been run through with electricity. He nodded and took off through the mass of cheering people. Other fights had broken out and the crowd’s bloodlust was only growing. If Mr. Adams wanted to collect on her promise, they’d be trampled instead of watched. As soon as they received their winnings, they needed to leave. She heard King’s voice in her head—
We’re going to do whatever we have to do
—and held tightly to Mr. Adams, her pride bowing to pure survival.

The boy returned, pulling the money man with him. Two big, strong lads followed closely, guards if she remembered Mr. Adams’s planning correctly. Their group didn’t stop until they were touching both Mr. Adams and Lady.

“Do you have my winnings?” Mr. Adams shouted.

“Our winnings,” Lady shouted, knowing she and King needed every shilling to escape.

The money man reached underneath his tray and after some fumbling, pulled out a stack of notes. He must have had Mr. Adams’s winnings ready. That or it was what he was going to steal away with. Twenty-five hundred pounds would be a prosperous take for anybody.

“As for you, Lady, I’m afraid I don’t have enough to cover your bet.” He slowly stepped away from her. “I can give you fifty pounds now, and deliver the rest tomorrow.”

It was all a lie. He had her winnings. This was too big of a fight not to have that kind of money somewhere on hand. Time was running short and the crowd was running hot. She needed to get her wager and they needed to get out of here. She reached up for one of the jeweled picks in her hair and in one swift motion, drew it out and touched the tip of the hidden blade to the base of the money man’s neck. “I’d prefer you deliver the full amount tonight.”

For the first time since before the fight started, she felt the full weight of Mr. Adams’s attention. From the corner of her eye, she saw him still and turn from the money in his hand to her. While the money man did nothing, she could see Mr. Adams smile.

“Of course, of course, Lady. Deepest apologies. The fight has thrown me a-flitter. One hundred pounds, coming right up.” He started to dig in his tray and Lady pushed the blade with enough force to cause a trickle of blood to slide down his neck. The man froze.

“It was a one-hundred-pound bet on King, which makes my winnings five hundred pounds. If you’d like, I can get out my wager chip, but I’m afraid I’d need to leave this—” she pushed the blade deeper, “—somewhere in order to free my hands.”

Mr. Adams chuckled and tucked the notes into his jacket pocket. “You’d best pay attention to the lady,” he said. “I’ve seen her do worse. Bloody hell, she’s done worse to me and I pay the whore.” He burst into laughter and Lady wanted to drive the blade into his neck just to shut him up.

“F-fi-five hundred pounds, right away.” The money man reached under the tray again and pulled out another, smaller, sheaf of notes. Lady plucked it from his hand and was able to leaf through it enough with her left hand to know it was all there. She removed the blade and slipped it back into her hair. Mr. Adams nodded and the money man dashed away, his guards with him. The boy stayed.

“Oh, that’s right.” Mr. Adams reached into his jacket for a five-pound note. The boy clutched it in his fist and ran into the crowd. Lady took the opportunity to pin her winnings to a garter on her thigh, lowering her dress in time to see Mr. Adams watching her with a rampant hunger.

“Bugger the crowd,” he growled. “I’ve got to fuck you now.” He pulled her dress up with one hand and with the other, roughly grabbed her crotch, and there was no way King was going to get to her in time. She was going to be raped right here, right now. She slowly ran her hand up his arm, her face a mask of violent excitement, and she pushed his face into her breasts as she reached up for the jeweled blade in her hair. No more.
Whatever she had to do...

A woman’s scream rent the noise of the crowd as several whistles started blowing. Lady knew the cops were here even before she could see their navy helmets bobbing through the crowd.

“Time to go, sir,” Shade yelled and grabbed Mr. Adams by the arm. He kept his other arm straight down at his side and Lady knew the knife he carried there made hers look like a canapé pick. She stilled, not knowing if she’d be taken, left or killed as dead weight. It was a relief when he turned, pulling Mr. Adams behind him and leaving her to be swallowed up by the crowd. Lady watched with a growing sense of relief as Mr. Adams turned around, his face frantic until he saw her. He pounded on Shade’s shoulder, pointing back at Lady, but Shade kept pulling and they were absorbed into the mass of people, more crazed now that the officers were here.

But they weren’t close enough to her yet to arrest her. Lady looked for one of the back exits. She’d have to escape onto the docks as the streets would be crowded with both escaping patrons and officers alike. She again cursed this dress, knowing she’d stand out like the moon on a cloudless night, and started running for the door.

Sebastian watched Lady run through the warehouse like a shooting star across the heavens. A quick glance in the opposite direction showed Shade getting Mr. Adams out with little care to what would happen to that delectable peach. Seeing an opportunity taking place in front of him, he knew he had to play.

He started toward Lady and then he saw Jonathan grab her from behind. Still forcing his way through the crowd, he laughed at the fight she put up and felt a stirring in his blood at the thought of having her, spirited or otherwise. He got to them at the same time Jonathan turned her in his arms so she could see who was holding her captive. The confusion on Lady’s face was obvious, but the tenderness on Jonathan’s was painful to see, despite his bruises, swellings and bloody visage.

“Jonathan! Lady! Thank God I’ve found you. We need to get out of here,” Sebastian said, grabbing Lady’s arm right below where Jonathan held her.

“What do you care?” Jonathan asked in a cold voice. “You haven’t traded for her too, have you?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Sebastian snapped. He glanced at Lady to see if she’d noticed what Jonathan said, accused him of, but she was looking a little frantic. “Poor dear, you’re shaking.” He shrugged out of his coat and draped it around her shoulders. She gave him a thankful look and on the inside, Sebastian laughed. It was almost enough to ease the betrayal of King winning the fight instead of throwing it.

Lady glanced into the throng and started waving frantically. “King! King!” Sebastian saw King caught up in a group of drunken young men, bent on taunting the police. He suddenly realized a way for his entire scheme to come together.

He pushed Lady into Jonathan’s arms. “Take her back to her house. Mr. Adams is probably heading there now. I’ll get King and get him back to his place.”

“No,” Lady shouted and tried to run for King, but Jonathan held fast. “I’ll get King. He can come with me.”

“Lady.” Sebastian lowered his head to see her eye to eye. “It’ll take you too long to get to him, and get out safely. Plus the two of you would attract a lot of unnecessary attention. I trust Jonathan to get you home. I can get King out of here with the minimum fuss. Now, the longer you argue with me means it’s going to take longer to get him to safety.”

“Go.” She stilled in Jonathan’s grip. “Go.”

“Take care of her,” he said to Jonathan. The young man nodded, for once knowledgeable enough and somber enough to understand the situation and what needed to be done. And strangely enough, Sebastian knew Jonathan would get Lady home or die trying. The Aussie guided Lady to the rear door and they left, swept into the tide of escaping patrons.

Sebastian turned and headed for King, calling his name. A particularly boisterous group stopped him and challenged him to a fight of their own. With a sigh about the hubris of youth, Sebastian reached under his vest for the small derringer he kept there. Before his fingers closed over the butt of the gun, King pushed his way into the group and shoved several of the other men out of the way.

“Where’s Lady?” he asked, his body tensed for another fight.

“She’s fine. Jonathan’s getting her out.”

“Jonathan? Are you out of your bloody mind?” King grabbed Sebastian by the lapels and shook him hard enough his teeth crunched together.

“She’ll be fine.” He released his hold on his gun and grabbed King by the arms. “He’ll kill anybody who tries to hurt her. And I think she’ll kill anybody who keeps her away from Mr. Adams,” he said with a sly chuckle. “Not with whatever pretty bauble he’s going to give her for winning this tournament on the line. Now, come with me. I’ve got a carriage nearby and can get us out.”

King released Sebastian but the look in his eyes was not friendly. This moody fighter might not be worth the hassle, but deep down he knew they could both be something greater with the other. And as soon as he got Lady to come with him, tonight or several weeks later, so much the better. He could be persuaded to share her if King did well enough, keeping all three of them happy, but he could more clearly see keeping Lady naked and spread-eagled on the bed. Knowing she’d be at his ultimate disposal made Sebastian smile and, after all, he was the most important one to keep happy.

“Trust me or not, I’m leaving. There’s room in the carriage, I have money for bribes and Lady is already gone. I know we’ll be working together in New York, and I want to make it worth your while to switch sides once you get there, so why would I cause you harm now?” Before Sebastian could finish his dramatic exit, an officer grabbed King by the arm.

“‘Ere, you, yer coming with me,” he said and reached into his pocket for a pair of handcuffs.

Sebastian needed King free and clear for his plan to succeed, so without a second thought, he reached for his derringer, and pointed it at the side of the officer’s head.

“No!” King yelled and shoved his hand away. “No killing.”

Sebastian tried not to roll his eyes as the officer turned to look at the new threat, the pistol already on a downward arc to slam against the officer’s temple, dropping him unconscious to the ground. He’d have to get that soft streak beaten out of King sooner rather than later.

“Get his bobby stick.” Sebastian knelt beside the man and started to unbutton the man’s coat, then saw King just standing there watching him. “His stick, his stick,” he repeated and gestured for the man’s belt. King pulled the bobby stick free and Sebastian pulled off the officer’s coat and swung it over his shoulders. As he buttoned it, he said, “Now, put your hands behind you like they’ve already been cuffed. And whatever you do, don’t say or do anything that a prisoner wouldn’t.”

He grabbed King’s thumbs in one fist, immobilizing his hands, and held the bobby stick against his neck. With a push, he started them for the door the officers had rushed in through. “All right, all right, let’s get this bloke out, then. ‘E’s got a date with a cell tonight, ‘e does.”

They made it outside and past the bulk of the officers. As soon as they were away from the lawmen, Sebastian shrugged off the coat and dropped the bobby stick soundlessly on it. He ran for the carriage two blocks away, King pacing him step for step.

They jumped into the carriage and Sebastian gave the driver King’s direction. As soon as they were clear of the warehouse, he reached into his vest for his flask.

“That was, by far, the worst English accent I’ve ever heard,” King said. After a second of silence, he gave a short laugh, almost a cough. Then he started laughing again, and Sebastian had to laugh too.

“Oh, if you think that’s bad, you should hear my Irish,” he said.

They both laughed, longer and harder than they should have. Sebastian was feeling success run through his veins like champagne and it made him giddy, giddy enough for such gaiety. After a moment, both men trailed into silence, their chuckles disappearing into the rumble of the carriage wheels on stone streets. Sebastian handed King the flask and the fighter took it gratefully.

“You’re all right, you know that? You don’t even seem mad that I didn’t throw the fight.” King took a drink from the flask. He made a sour face. “What is this shit?”

“I’m not worried, King. I have the feeling I’ll get my money back another way, a better way.” Sebastian felt the hot rush of success run through him. “And sorry about the taste. It’s American bourbon. A little bit different from your own and an acquired taste, I’m afraid. Besides, men without shirts can’t be choosers.”

King looked down at his bare chest and started to laugh again. He took a deep pull from the flask and swallowed the end of it with a small moan of contentment. “Aye, you’re right. Sorry bloke I am. No shirt, couldn’t get us out of that mess, and now I’m feeling like I have no strength left,” he said, his words slurring as his head lolled to the side.

“Don’t worry, King. You’re mine now, and I take care of what’s mine. You rest, and when you wake up, everything’s going to be better, so much better.” Sebastian leaned forward and slipped the flask from King’s fingers. He screwed the top back on and resettled it in the pocket of his vest. “You’ll have me and I’ll have Lady, and we’ll leave this godforsaken island long behind us,” he said in a low, soothing voice.