Page 127 of Notorious

Drusilla’s expression shrieked disgust and disbelief, but she made no comment.

“Make sure to tie him nice and tight,” Rowland said to Gabriel.

At least they agreed on one thing. Gabriel finished tying a double knot on Jed’s giant wrists and turned to Rowland. “I need a knife to cut the rope.”

Rowland gave a high-pitched, whinnying laugh. “Not likely. Get on your knees, Jed.”

The big man looked from Rowland to Gabriel, his expression suddenly pleading.

Gabriel snorted. “You’ll get no help from me, mate.”

“On your knees or I’ll shoot.”

While Jed awkwardly dropped to his knees, Rowland began to inch sideways toward Dru, keeping the gun trained on Gabriel.

“Good,” Rowland said once Jed was down. “Now lower the gun and slide it across the floor, Drusilla.” She cut a look at Gabriel, and Rowland saw it. “I won’t hurt either of you. That was never in my plans. I just want the money—it’s in that bag?”

She nodded.

“Go ahead, Dru; do as he says,” Gabriel urged.

She lowered the gun to her waist, but before she could lay it on the floor, the satchel slipped from her shoulder and knocked the gun from her hand. The explosion was deafening in the enclosed space, and it reverberated endlessly.

As if in slow motion, Gabriel saw Drusilla raise her hand to her mouth, her eyes fastened on Rowland, whose arm wavered.

“I’m . . .” Rowland looked down at his stomach, clutching at himself with one hand. “Shot.” The pistol in his hand wavered and then hit the ground. Gabriel winced, waiting for a second shot—but the gun just clunked harmlessly on the wooden slats. Rowland swayed, both his hands on his midriff, which had darkened with a growing blossom of red.

Drusilla ran to Gabriel. “Have I killed him?”

Gabriel quickly picked up Rowland’s unfired pistol and turned to Jed. The big man was already on his feet and halfway out the door, rope trailing behind him.

“Gabriel?”

He put one arm around Drusilla, and they went to where Rowland lay; the man was gutshot. He wouldn’t last long, and his end would be agonizing.

The sound of rope unspooling caught his attention. He tucked the gun in the waistband of his pants and grabbed the rope. Jed almost jerked him off his feet, but Gabriel managed to loop the rope around a big metal cleat bolted to the floor—no doubt something used in the making of rope. The thick cord snapped taut, and he heard a yowl of pain beyond the door.

Drusilla dropped to her knees beside Rowland’s prostrate form and stared up at Gabriel. “There must be something we can do?”

He glanced from his wife’s distraught face to the man on the floor.

“Please, Marlington,” Rowland gasped, cradling his middle with a shaking arm. “Don’t let me die this way.”

“Where is my son?”

“I don’t know—I swear, Jed took him. Please—” tears streamed down his agonized face.

“I think he’s telling the truth,” Drusilla said.

So did Gabriel.

“We’ll get you to a physician, Theo,” Drusilla said in a shaky voice. “He can take out the bullet.”

Gabriel strode toward the door. He needed to keep hold of Jed or he’d never find Samir. Rowland could bloody well wait.

A crowd of customers from the inn had gathered, and somebody was already helping Jed untie the rope. The serving wench saw him first.

“There ’e is!”