Chapter 30

30

S amantha watched in horror as Croft scrambled to fight off the man who'd knocked him over. Light bounced off the edge of a blade the villain had managed to draw from a sheath. A short distance away the other man started to push himself upward. Soon it would be two against one and then what?

The pair on the floor rolled, grunting as they exchanged several blows.

She had to help.

Reaching into her hair, she felt for one of her lethal pins, only to feel a firm hand halting her movement.

"You can't use that," Hazel hissed. "Remember who you're pretending to be."

Right. Samantha lowered her hand and glanced around, seeking some sort of makeshift weapon.

An unlit oil lamp on a table nearby caught her attention. She grabbed it without overthinking the matter, ran for the man Croft was fighting, and smashed it over his head.

Glass shattered, splattering oil. The villain cried out in pain and released his hold on Croft, his blade clattering to the floor. Blood oozed from countless cuts as he tried to brush shards from his face.

Catching the back of his collar, she started to drag him off Croft, but the second assailant, having regained his footing, lunged at her. His size and weight pushed her off balance and stopped her from bracing for impact.

Her head hit the ground with a sickening crack, causing her vision to blur. Rough hands squeezed her throat.

"I'm gonna enjoy this," the brute spat as his thumbs dug into her flesh.

Samantha choked, her arms arcing straight up and outward in an attempt to dislodge his grasp. When that didn't work, she went for his eyes.

He reared back, but didn't release her. "Damn bitch."

His effort to kill her increased. Samantha tried to suck in some air but her windpipe had been restricted. She stared up at the ugly face hovering over her as it grew fuzzy. Her limbs felt increasingly numb, the need to pull air into her lungs forcing tears to her eyes.

"Miss Carmichael." Croft's voice was filled with alarm.

Hazel called out, the sound cutting the space between them. Additional shouts followed. The weight pressing Samantha into the ground disappeared. She managed a breath.

"Search them for additional weapons," an unfamiliar man's voice ordered while gentle hands brushed her face, pushing stray locks of hair from her brow. It felt like time was missing. Could it be she'd blacked out?

"Are you all right?" Croft asked with what sounded like genuine worry. She managed a nod. "What the hell were you thinking?"

"That you needed help." She coughed and swallowed past the ache in her throat, then turned to one side and began easing herself into a sitting position, despite Croft's protestations. "Who's that?"

Croft followed her gaze toward the tall, broad-shouldered man who kept the two thugs restrained. "Murry. He's my valet. Reed went to fetch him."

"Smart man."

Croft searched her face as though looking for something specific. He eventually sighed. "The lamp was a good idea. Thank you."

She nodded and rubbed the back of her head. "It sounded like they knew you. Any idea what they wanted?"

They'd mentioned files. Considering the lengths the thugs had gone to in order to acquire them, their contents had to be extremely desirable. Perhaps they were filled with information pertaining to illicit business dealings? Or maybe this was where Croft kept all the damning details used to force people's hands.

Either way, her interest was piqued.

"Something I'm not prepared to hand over." He knit his brow. "Are you sure you're all right?"

"Not entirely, but I will be once I put something cold on this bump that's forming."

"We'd best get you home then. Do you think you can stand?"

She almost laughed. She'd taken a rather serious hit to the head, but she wasn't some delicate flower.

Still, Croft didn't know that. So she pretended to think on the matter before deciding to tell him, "With your help, I should manage."

He got her upright with the utmost care and urged her to use his arm for support. Glancing around, she saw that the rest of the women who'd been there, save Hazel, were gone.

"What will you do with those men?" Samantha asked a few minutes later when Croft escorted her and Hazel to their carriage.

"Make sure they pay." His manner, so warm when he'd asked about her well-being, was now cold and steely. He helped her into the carriage. "I regret what happened today. My only hope is that the next time we meet, it will be under more pleasant circumstances."

"Likewise."

Stepping back, he shut the door, then ordered the driver to take her home.

* * *

There was no escaping the heavy regret weighing on Adrian's shoulders. Those men might have come after him, but they'd done so publicly this time, disrupting other people's lives in the process. Their thoughtless use of those pistols could have resulted in tragedy.

And then there was Miss Carmichael, whom Scarface would have deliberately murdered had Murry not shown up at the right time and neutralized him. Adrian himself had been too busy fighting Chubbycheeks, whose weight had continued to pin him down.

It was a damn miracle no one had died.

"I'm sorry this happened," he told Mr. Reed who was sweeping glass off the floor when Adrian returned. "I'll naturally pay for the damage."

"Thank you, but there isn't much besides the broken lamp."

"I'll have it replaced." When Mr. Reed nodded and went back to sweeping, Adrian glanced at the scoundrels who'd ruined everyone's day. Their wrists had been tied behind their backs, their mouths gagged with lengths of fabric. Disgusted by their behavior, Adrian turned to Murry. "Let's get them into the carriage."

The journey out of town seemed never ending. Jaw tight, Adrian kept his eyes on the captives who sat on the opposite bench, his loaded pistol on Scarface while Murry directed his at Chubbycheeks.

Anger curled in his gut, spreading through every limb until the rigidity pained him. It wasn't just caused by the attack or by thoughts of what it could have led to, but by what he was now forced to do.

He had no choice even though it stood in direct opposition to what he'd hoped to achieve. But the truth was he'd already made a mistake by letting them go the first time they'd attacked him. A decision that nearly cost Miss Carmichael's life today.

For her and any other innocents these men might harm, he had to act with unforgiving force.

Of course, there was also the issue of his reputation. If he showed additional mercy now and word got out, it would be destroyed.

Not an option. It was time for him to send a message to anyone foolish enough to cross him – to those who thought him weak and incapable of living up to his father's notoriety.