Page 85 of Redemption

When she’d been under Ruckley’s control the French letters had ensured she’d didn’t suffer from disease while being forced to lay with men. They were just one of many tricks she’d used to protect herself. It was the suggestion that she might have something disagreeable to pass on that made the man hesitate.

“Why do I think you’re lying to me, Rhea?” His distrust made her laugh.

“You seem to forget I’ve always spoken my mind, and I’ve never lied to you,” Rhea said with a careless shrug as she offered him a complacent smile. “Believe me or don’t believe me. The choice is yours.”

With a grunt Ruckley shoved the French letter back into the small bag and tossed it back to her. The man’s irritation quickly evaporated as he took a step back and gestured toward the stairs. When Rhea hesitated, a sly smile curved Ruckley’s lips as he leaned forward.

“Come now, Rhea, surely you’re not afraid of me.” The man’s voice held too much complacency, and it aroused Rhea’s anger. She arched her eyebrows and stared at him in disgust.

“Fear you?” she sneered. “I hate you too much to fear you.”

“Excellent,” he chuckled as his eyes glittered with lust. “That’s the fire I want to see in my bed. It’ll make things exciting. Shall we?”

With a sense of doom, Rhea moved forward to silently climbed the stairs. As she reached the second floor, she saw the door to Ruckley’s rooms at the end of the corridor. On each side of the wall were doors to rooms she knew far too well. Rooms where she’d given up a small piece of herself to every man who’d used her body. Bile rose up to flood her mouth, and she gagged then swallowed hard in her effort not to throw up.

Behind her Ruckley laughed. He knew she was afraid, but he didn’t know why. She wasn’t afraid of him. What terrified her was that deep down inside she’d been imagining how good it would feel when she killed him. The idea of watching Ruckley’s stunned expression as his life slipped away actually filled her with pleasure. She’d been thinking it would be hard to pull the trigger. If anything it would be difficult not to enjoy it. Ruckley brushed past her, the foul stench of him making her stomach roil. He opened the door leading into his rooms and leaned back against the doorframe as he invited her to enter with a sneering smile.

Compared to the dimly lit corridor the room was bright, and God help her, almost cheery. A fire burned in the hearth while a low-burning oil lamp, sitting on a roughly hewn table, illuminated one small corner of the room. As her gaze swept toward the bed she grew rigid at the sight of Edgar, hands behind his neck, reclined against some dirty-looking pillows. Disgusted by the boy’s depraved grin, she whirled around to see Ruckley closing the door behind him.

“Our agreement did not include anyone else,” Rhea said in an icy voice. She was now certain the moment she pulled the trigger she wouldn’t just enjoy watching Ruckley take his last breath. She’d revel in it.

“What I said was that I want to saddle and ride you, poppet, and I intend to do just that,” Ruckley said with a smug smile before he grinned at Edgar. “The boy is here to watch how it’s done.”

“To watch or give you pointers on what to do?”

The moment she spoke she realized her mistake. An instant later, the back of Ruckley’s hand slammed against her face. The blow connected with the bruised area of her jaw where Edgar had struck her days before. Rhea staggered backward until her back was pressed into a chest of drawers. Pain shot its way through her head, and each breath she took seemed to exacerbate the throbbing in her jaw. Her hand fell down to the pocket of her dress as she tried to focus on where both men stood in the room.

“Enough lollygagging. Get out of your clothes, Rhea, before I cut them off.” All amusement was gone from Ruckley’s voice as he flipped open a switchblade. The long narrow blade flashed in the firelight. Stomach churning with fear and pain, Rhea realized her hands were clammy and cold. Slowly she set her purse on the table. With her back to Ruckley, she began to undo the buttons of her dress.

“Turn around, poppet. I want watch you.” At Ruckley’s command, she heard Edgar snicker.

Humiliation slashed through her as she turned to face them both. She pushed the top portion of her dress off her shoulders. The lascivious look on Ruckley’s face filled her with horror as she realized she might not be able to avoid letting the bastard touch her. No, she’d die before she’d let that happen. The dress pooled at her feet, and she picked it up, folded it, and turned to lay it on the table. As she pretended to smooth out the wrinkles in the gown, she carefully pulled the pistol out of the dress pocket and gripped it firmly.

“Leave the dress be, Rhea. Turn around and show me that cunny of yours, because I plan on fucking you more than once tonight, me girl.”

Rhea drew in a deep breath, cocked the pistol, and turned around. The moment the two men saw her weapon their eyes widened. Edgar’s reaction was typical of someone staring down the barrel of a gun. Ruckley’s reaction was different. The man stared at her for a long moment before he laughed boisterously. Oddly enough his laughter didn’t surprise her. Somehow she’d expected it. Ruckley chuckled as he played with the switchblade in his hand.

“Now exactly what do you think is going to happen here, my poppet?” Ruckley shook his head in amusement. “Even if I let you go, do you really expect to simply walk out of here, dressed in nothing but your drawers?”

The question threw her for a moment as she stared at the crime lord. He was right she wouldn’t be able to leave wearing nothing but her petticoats. A cold smile touched her lips as she met his gaze steadily. She shook her head.

“I won’t have to,” she said quietly. Ruckley raised an eyebrow at her response, his lips curling back over his teeth like a cadaver.

“Now exactly what does that mean, dearie?”

“It means you’ll be dead and unable to stop me from dressing.” Her coldly spoken reply made Ruckley snort.

“You never cease to surprise me, Rhea.”

The man shifted his position, and Rhea knew her unusual behavior unsettled him. She allowed a small smile to touch her lips. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Edgar slide off the bed.

“Don’t, boy,” she said softly. “One more step and I’ll kill him. Then where will you be?”

“I’ll tell the police you killed him.”

“And I’ll tell them you’re lying.” Rhea didn’t take her gaze off of Ruckley who was now looking distinctively nervous. “Who will they believe, Edgar?”

Without a word, Edgar slowly sank back down onto the bed. Ruckley’s eyes narrowed as he studied her carefully. She didn’t flinch beneath his harsh gaze, and she saw an odd expression flutter across his face. It wasn’t so much a look of fear, but bewilderment. The man was uncertain as to how to react to her behavior. She could read it in his eyes.