A Kiss In The Dark (37 page)

“The time has come to do something,” she said loudly, speaking over the hum of conversation. “We can’t keep letting this sort of thing continue. Barnaby Flynt has terrorized the citizens of Tothill Fields long enough.”

“Easy for you to say,” one of the merchants grumbled. “You don’t ’ave to live ’ere.”

“No, I don’t,” she agreed, “but you do. The question is, do you want to continue living with his shadow looming over you? Turning a blind eye to his deeds has accomplished nothing.”

“But if we oppose ’im, ’e’ll kill us,” a prostitute ventured timidly. “Just like Mouse.”

There were murmurs of agreement.

Dear Lord, what could she possibly say to persuade them? Their terror of the gang leader was so palpable that it filled the tavern.

Lilah came to her rescue. “I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’m tired of being bullied by the likes of ’im. After what ’e did to Mouse, ’e deserves to ’ang, and if the law won’t do it, we should.”

“What do you know, you bloody doxy?” a street vendor spat, raising a fist in a threatening gesture. He immediately backed down, however, when Cullen’s hulking form stepped in between them.

Deirdre gave her coachman a grateful smile, noting the protective arm he placed around Lilah’s shoulders before turning back to her audience. “Things are never going to change as long as we stand aside and allow this to go on. If we all band together, if we rise up and refuse to be intimidated, Barnaby loses his power.”

She clasped her hands in front of her, taking a deep breath. “There is a child in danger, and if we don’t do something, she could die. I’m not saying it will be easy, but I have faith in us all. Now, will you help me?”

For a long moment, there was absolute silence. Then, Rachel McLean took a step forward. “I’ll help. After everything you’ve done for us, my lady, you deserve our cooperation. And it will be good to get rid of that monster once and for all.”

“You know me and Cullen will ’elp, luv,” Lilah said confidently, clinging to the coachman’s arm. He nodded in agreement.

“I’ll ’elp, as well,” Harry called from behind the bar. “I wouldn’t miss out on a good skirmish.”

There was a slight shifting in the crowd, and more and more people stepped forward to volunteer their assistance. Though there were still a few holdouts, her friends’ words had made all the difference, and the resulting outpouring of support brought tears to Deirdre’s eyes.

You see, Tristan
, she thought proudly.
They do care about something besides themselves
.

There was a tug at her sleeve, and she looked down to find Benji staring up at her with wide eyes. “We want to ’elp, too,” he proclaimed, jerking his head at the rest of the Rag-Tags. “We want to save Miss Angel.”

“Believe me, Benji,” she told him. “We’re all going to have to help. We’ll need everyone if this is going to work.”

“When do we leave, m’lady?” someone shouted.

She bit her lip and glanced out the windows. She’d sent Jenna for Dan and his men quite some time ago. She’d hoped to wait for them to arrive, but they couldn’t afford to hold off any longer. The sun was already lowering in the sky, and every moment that passed increased her chances of losing the man she loved to the business end of Barnaby’s blade. Whether he was still in her life or not, she wasn’t about to let that happen.

Meeting their eyes gravely, she gave a determined nod. “Right now.”

From the concealment of the shadows next to the building, Tristan watched as Peter approached Flynt’s guard at an almost casual stroll, making no attempt to hide his presence.

Tristan had to hand it to the lad. Peter didn’t back down from a challenge. Despite the pain his injuries had to be causing him, he was ready to try anything if it meant saving Emily.

The guard, a youth Peter had called Toby, leaned against the building, cleaning under his nails with a pocketknife. He went on immediate alert, however, as he caught sight of Peter.

“Aren’t you supposed to be fetching the girl’s brother?” he asked suspiciously.

Shoving his hands in his pockets, Peter shrugged. “I decided I’m not doing it unless I get a share of the blunt.”

“A share? You’re full of it. Mr. Flynt ain’t giving you nothing.”

“Then I’m not fetching anyone.”

Toby’s face darkened. “Then you’re a dead man, mate. I’ll gut you the same way I did that idiot rat-catcher.”

Peter sauntered around to the boy’s other side, and Toby turned to follow him with his eyes, effectively putting his back to Tristan.

“You’re welcome to try,” Peter invited.

Toby took a step toward him, but before he could do more than brandish the knife in an ominous manner, Tristan swooped out of the gathering mist and rendered him unconscious with one sharp blow to the back of the head.

“I wish you would ’ave let me ’it ’im once,” Peter grumbled as he helped drag the youth’s limp form behind a pile of crates.

“I don’t have time for that.” Tristan sent a swift glance left and right, then clapped Peter on the back. “I want you to wait here.”

“But—”

“No arguments, Peter. I need someone out here to go for help if I can’t manage to get Emily out. Do you understand?”

Peter reluctantly nodded, and Tristan gave him a fleeting smile of approval before creeping into the building.

Once inside, he found himself in a long, narrow hallway lined with several closed doors, and he paused for a moment to get his bearings. Straight ahead, at the end of the corridor, a set of steep wooden stairs led off into the dark upper reaches of the second floor.

If he had to wager a guess, he’d say that it was more than likely that Barnaby was holding Emily up there. One stealthy footstep at a time, he began to make his way forward, his boots treading carefully on the rotted and creaking floorboards.

He had just reached the foot of the stairs and was preparing to ascend when a loud voice cut through the silence behind him.

“’Ere now! What are you doing ’ere?”

Damnation! So much for the element of surprise.

Pivoting, he found himself face-to-face with a hulking brute of a man several years older than the youth who had been guarding the door. This was obviously one of Flynt’s more seasoned ruffians, for there was an air of violence about him that told Tristan he’d be quite a bit more lethal, as well.

Not wanting to give the fellow a chance to raise any further alarm, Tristan lunged forward and tackled him about the waist, slamming him as hard as he could against the wall.

The man grunted and instantly began to grapple with him. One ham-sized fist plowed into Tristan’s stomach, sending him staggering backward, but he recovered enough to land a punch on his adversary’s bulbous nose. Blood squirted, and Flynt’s lackey roared, reaching up to stem the flow.

It was a move that gave Tristan a momentary advantage. He brought his fist up in an uppercut to the fellow’s jaw.

He dropped like a stone, but before Tristan could do more than suck in a breath of air, one of the doors along the corridor flew open and several more of Barnaby’s boys spilled out into the hallway, eyeing him with murderous intent.

Bloody hell, he was never going to get to Emily this way!

Peter slumped dejectedly against the building, arms crossed over his chest and teeth clenched at the unfairness of it all.

He hated feeling so bloody useless! After allowing Emily to get snatched in the first place, he held himself responsible for this entire mess. His heart gave a sharp squeeze as he remembered the look on her face when he’d told her she didn’t belong with the Rag-Tag Bunch. He hadn’t meant to hurt her, and the mere thought of her at Flynt’s mercy was enough to send his temper soaring.

Perhaps he should go ahead and slip inside. After all, it wasn’t as if he’d promised to stay here.

He had just pushed away from the wall and started forward when a familiar voice spoke up from behind him.

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t me old friend, Peter.”

Jack appeared out of the shadows, surrounded by several of Barnaby’s boys.

He smirked. “What are you doing ’ere? You’re supposed to be at the ’ideout wiv the girl’s brother and the blunt.”

Peter shrugged, struggling to appear unconcerned in spite of his racing heart. “I decided I wasn’t in the mood to take orders from Barnaby.”

“Not in the mood, eh? That’s real funny, Peter. Course, I don’t think Mr. Flynt will find it so amusing. In fact, ’e’s going to be angry you didn’t follow ’is instructions.” Jack’s eyes glinted with malevolence. “What? Did you think you’d come and rescue the Lady Emily yourself?”

“Maybe.”

“Now, that was bloody stupid, but it doesn’t surprise me. You always did think you were better than you are.” Jack affected a mocking tone. “The great and noble Peter. Do you know ’ow tired I am of ’earing ’ow perfect you are? Peter is in charge, Peter is the boss, Peter knows everything. God, you make me sick!”

He gestured to his minions, and they fanned out to form a semicircle around their prey.

“It’s time I took care of you, once and for all,” Jack spat.

Peter readied himself for attack. “That may not be quite as easy as you think.”

The older boy growled deep in his throat, but before anyone could make a move, a shout echoed out of the thickening fog, freezing everyone in place.

“Leave Peter alone!”

Instantly recognizing Nat’s voice, Peter swung about, trying to see through the mist. Sure enough, he could make out several small shapes crouched behind some nearby boxes and barrels. The Rag-Tags!

“Get ’im, boys!” Nat called out again, and a sudden hail of rocks pelted Jack and his ruffians.

“What the—” Jack took a step back, and the other boys covered their heads with their arms, their cries of pain echoing off the building as the projectiles found their targets.

From out of the grayness, Lady R suddenly appeared, closely followed by several others. Peter recognized Cullen, her coachman, and Lilah among them.

“Where’s Lord Ellington?” the viscountess asked him in an anxious voice.

Peter jerked a thumb at the building. “He went in.”

Lady R didn’t hesitate, but plunged in through the door with her small army right behind her.

Peter started after them, but before he could take more than a step, a hand grasped him roughly by the shoulder and yanked him around.

It was Jack.

“Where do you think you’re going?” the older boy hissed. “I ain’t done wiv you yet.”

Peter’s patience was just about gone, and he’d had all he could stomach of Jack Barlow. It was because of him that Flynt had gotten his hands on Emily in the first place.

“Well, I’m done wiv you, Jack.” Pulling back a fist, he let fly with a punch that connected squarely with Jack’s nose, the force of it sending his adversary sprawling in the dirt.

“Now, you listen to me, you bloody traitor,” Peter told him in a voice that was dangerously soft. “I don’t ever want to see your face around ’ere again. If I do, I can promise you I’ll make you regret that you were ever born.”

With that, he flicked Jack one last contemptuous glance before turning and entering the building.

In spite of himself, Tristan was starting to lose ground in the fight against Flynt’s minions. As large and strong as he was, every time he dispatched one of them, another took his place, and several of them were armed with wicked-looking knives that were doing their share of damage. A slash marred his cheek, and a glancing blow had left a deep cut across his left side, swiftly soaking his shirt with blood.

Ramming one of the fiends headfirst into the wall, Tristan turned to meet the next threat, panting for breath. Something had to give, and soon.

As if in answer to his thoughts, the door abruptly burst open and a crowd of people swarmed inside. At first, he was certain Barnaby must have sent in reinforcements, but after a second or two he recognized Cullen, Lilah, and several others.

And Deirdre was at the head of the group.

They charged into the fray like knights into battle. With a loud screech, Lilah hopped on the back of the man who was attacking Tristan and began to beat him about the head and shoulders. The fellow cried out and tried to dislodge her, but she clung with ferocious tenacity.

A smile spread over Tristan’s face. My God, Deirdre had formed a rescue party of the citizens of Tothill Fields! He kissed his hand in gratitude to Lilah before ducking around them and heading for the stairs.

At the other end of the hallway, Deirdre pushed past Harry, who was wrestling with one of Flynt’s men, and stood on tiptoe, searching for Tristan over the heads of the surrounding combatants. She caught sight of him just as he reached the stairs. She called out his name, waving her arms above her head, but he didn’t appear to hear her, for he bounded ahead up the steps.

Blast! She would have to hurry or he would be bursting in on Barnaby with no one to guard his back.

She began to make her way through the throng.

At the top of the stairs, Tristan halted, quickly scanning his surroundings. A short landing led to a heavy wooden door. Though there was no sound from within, he was almost certain Flynt lurked just on the other side, waiting for him to make a move.