Apparently, he’d grossly underestimated the speed with which they would do so.
A mistake for which he would never forgive himself.
He grunted in response to the sharp pain that pierced his ankle when the tip of his shoe scraped the ground, twisting his foot.He’d been hung like this on purpose, slightly askew, so he could only support himself on his injured side.
Tipping his head back, he stared up through the darkness and tried to think.
A moment passed, and then the edge of his lips twitched.
Maybe there was a way for him to survive this disaster.
If he could pull himself upward and onto the chain from which he hung, it might slacken enough for him to work himself free.Especially, if he found the resolve required to break his own hand.
* * *
The familiar smell of tobacco and his wife’s favorite perfume stirred Peter’s senses, bringing him back to awareness.He blinked, allowed his eyes to adjust to the candle-lit room, to the sight of his desk and his other belongings, the stacks of books and the files he’d compiled on various cases.
Confusion set in.
What the hell was he doing here, lying on a cot?
He rubbed his eyes with his fingers and heard the soft rustle of fabric.
“You’re awake.”Gabriella’s voice, filled with relief, then the touch of her palm against his cheek.“The doctor is waiting to evaluate you.Croft made sure he’d remain here until you gained consciousness.”
“Croft?”A vague memory of speaking with him began stirring.
“He brought you here after you were attacked.”
“What…” Peter closed his eyes briefly.He couldn’t think straight.“What happened?”
“You went after Finn O’Leary and his men, but it didn’t quite go as expected.There was an altercation, during which one of O’Leary’s men struck you.Croft went after O’Leary himself while his valet remained behind to help you.Unfortunately, O’Leary and his men escaped.When I spoke with Jackson, he was at a loss as to how they snuck past him and the other Runners.”
They couldn’t have.Peter tried to think, but his mind was a murky mess.Yet he recalled seeing O’Leary up close.At least he felt like he had.He shook his head slightly.The area surrounding O’Leary’s lair was cordoned off.That much he knew with certainty.So why had none of his men been captured?
It made no sense.
“I need to speak with Croft,” he said.Surely he could provide some answers.
Gabriella placed a hand at his back when he tried to sit, offering gentle support as he moved into a more upright position.“It’s late.Nearly three in the morning.Whatever you wish to discuss with him can surely wait until later.”
He met her gaze and saw the lines at the corners of her eyes, the faint smile on her lips.She’d been worried for him and was very relieved that he’d finally woken.He wanted to ease away any lingering concerns she might have by letting the doctor evaluate him.
And yet, something nagged at the back of his mind.“O’Leary was injured.”
Gabriella gave him a funny look.“What do you mean?”
“I’m not sure,” he murmured.“But I know he couldn’t have run from anyone.”
So what the hell had happened?
* * *
Samantha followed her husband into the underground passageway beneath The Bearded Vulture.It was the middle of the night.He’d woken her an hour ago and had quickly given her the pertinent details regarding O’Leary’s capture.The rest had been delivered in the carriage as they’d travelled to the inn where several generations of Crofts had met with their associates during times of need.
Everyone who’d been present at Number 12 Hanson Street when Adrian and Murry arrived with Kendrick in tow had since been killed.Simmons was already making sure the bodies were collected from the cellar of the vacant house nearby on Clipstone Street.Murdoch had found the spot and rented it for this exact purpose, ensuring there would be no arrests, no chance of anyone coming back to enact their vengeance.Instead, they’d be used to help medical students improve their knowledge of anatomy.
The light from the torches that lined the wall illuminated the heavy wood door at the end of the passage.Adrian opened it and ushered Samantha inside.
