“Sebastian, get free,” Jade said, almost impatiently, and some distant part of Wesley’s mind registered that she seemed completely certain de Leon could easily do such a thing even though Wesley was taller and broader.
The man pinned under Wesley only gave a tiny shake of his head.
Jade tugged again on Wesley’s arm. “You’re hurting my friend.”
“He’s a criminal!” Wesley snapped. “This is Sebastian the bootlegger, who kidnapped Rory Brodigan.” He kept a tight grip on de Leon. “I don’t know how you’re here now, but I was there,” he said, again into de Leon’s ear. “I was in the back office of the antiques shop in New York and I heard everything you said and did, you and your two friends, Mr. Hyde and Miss Shelley. I will never forget your voice.”
He raised his voice. “Miss Robbins, please call the police.”
“I’m not calling the police—this is all a mistake.” Jade sounded exasperated. “Lord Fine, let himgo.”
The small, feminine hand on Wesley’s arm pulled. Jade was petite, a head shorter than Wesley himself even in her heels. She should never have been able to move him.
But this time, it was almost as if invisible hands were with her, yanking at Wesley’s clothes, and he stumbled backward with the unexpected force.
De Leon’s coughs filled the air as he caught his breath. Wesley shook his head to clear it, and would have lunged forward again, except at that moment de Leon rolled so his back was against the alley wall, and as he lifted his head his face caught the light coming from one of the partially boarded windows.
Oh hell.
De Leonwashandsome. He wasstupidlyhandsome, the sharp masculine lines of his cheekbones and jaw contrasting with giant doe eyes and soft olive skin. Pink lips were parted as he panted against the bricks, cradling the arm Wesley had been wrenching.
Wesley stood, frozen.What are you doing?the rational part of his mind screeched.You can’t let a criminal escape because he’s fit!
Of course we’re not going to let him escape,Wesley’s starved and reprehensible libido answered.We’re going to lock him up. In our bedroom.
Oh, for fuck’s sake. Wesley scrambled to regain control. “I am not mistaken,” he snapped, stepping forward again.
But Sebastian raised his hands, a gesture of surrender. “You’re right, you’re not.”
“It’s not that simple,” Jade said.
“Isn’t it?” De Leon’s words were quiet. “This is Lord Fine, yes? He is right, I did exactly what he said I did.”
Christ, thatvoice,so lush and lovely. Wesley ought to grab him again, but de Leon’s hands were still in the air, the perfect picture of complete surrender. His eyes were guileless and he was so infuriatinglypretty.
“There were extenuating circumstances,” Jade was saying.
“I don’t care if he was tortured,” Wesley said bluntly. How dare attraction rear its head at this moment? So the fellow was handsome—it changed nothing. “He can’t be your friend, Miss Robbins. There are no extenuating circumstances that would excuse what he did.”
De Leon winced. “I’m sorry. I will leave.”
“It’s your home—” Jade started.
But de Leon had taken off down the alley in the opposite direction from Bishopsgate.
Wesley started after him, but again, he felt the sensation of invisible hands stopping him. He jumped back, brushing forcefully at his clothes but finding nothing but fabric. “What is going on tonight?”
“I’m sorry, but I won’t let you hurt him,” Jade said, like she could somehow be responsible for that sensation.
This was lunacy, all of it. “We can’t just let him go. We need to call the police.”
“Absolutely not.” She seemed distracted; her attention focused on a patch of empty air.
Wesley huffed. “That man is a bootlegger—”
“I’ma bootlegger.”
“And a kidnapper—”
