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“Still the same, you’re coming with me. Willingly or not.”
“I’ll not be going anywhere with ye,” she said, shuffling backwards.
He instinctively took a step forward, intent on going after her, but the porter raised a bony hand as if to halt him.
“Now just stop right there, young man.”
“Listen,” Sam said between clenched teeth. “I’m not here to make trouble, so just step aside and let me do my business.”
“I’m sorry, but I cannot do that. The lady has made a formal complaint and feels her safety is at risk. It is my duty to ensure all passengers are not only comfortable, but also safe. I’m sure you can understand that.”
“Too damn well,” he growled, wondering what the old man would think if he knew exactly who he thought he was protecting. But for the porter’s safety and those of the other passengers, it was best he did not. The way things were unravelling though, Sam wondered how much longer he could keep her identity under wraps. The train gave an unexpected lurch, indicating it had just pulled out of the station.
Sam swore. Apparently, not too long.
“Then you will appreciate her concern and leave her be.” The old porter gestured toward the back of the car. “Now, if you could please return to your seat.”
Sam took a quick glance outside the window and groaned inwardly as the station slowly slipped out of view. Hardening his tone of voice, he told him, “I ain’t going nowhere except off this train with my—”
“I’ve asked you nicely, sir.” The man’s own voice grew stern and the frown on his face had turned into a scowl the same moment he reached for something behind him.
Sam had his gun out of his holster and pointed directly at the old man long before he was able to lift a single bony finger. Elbow straight, Sam aimed it squarely at the man’s chest. A frown drew the porter’s large wrinkled forehead out from beneath his cap, but otherwise did not move.
Christ, Sam hated bystanders.
From the corner of his eye, he could see the copper-haired woman take another step. “Ma’am, I suggest you don’t make another move.”
She froze.
“Now, if you could kindly move this way,” he told her while keeping the gun strained on the porter. With his peripheral vision, he kept a watchful eye on the small audience they had begun to grow. He hadn’t wanted this. He preferred apprehending his criminal quietly and with no fuss.
“Who are you?” the porter asked, clearly alarmed now. “What are you after? A ransom?”
“You could say that.” Sam glanced out the window and noticed the train picking up speed. No time for small talk or explanations.
Moving his attention to the copper-haired woman, he said, “Ma’am? I’d like for us to get off this train nice and calmly. When we reach our destination, you can relish in the spotlight all you like. But for now, you will come willingly and quietly. However, if you insist on creating a production, be well warned, I will resort to physical force if needed.”
To his surprise, her eyes rounded not in fear as he would have suspected, but pure unadulterated rage. “How dare ye threaten me?”
“Easily. Now, if you wouldn’t mind, move that sweet little rump over here so we can disembark from this bloody train.”
“Just hold on now,” the porter said, still not willing to surrender Ivy so easily. “Let’s try and talk this over. Can we not come to some type of understanding? I’m sure we can agree on some form of negotiation.”
Sam could feel the train pick up speed. Ah, hell. Narrowing his gaze to appear more threatening, he said, “Stop the damn train.”
“Please, sir, try and be reasonable.”
“Listen, Gramps” Sam barked, “I would love nothing more than to sit over a cup of coffee discussing the matter with you, but quite frankly, I don’t have the damn time. So could you so kindly stop this goddamn train? Now.”
To Sam’s surprise, the man unexpectedly straightened, looking younger than his ninety something years, looked Sam in the eye and informed him, “I cannot do that. I cannot allow you to take this woman unwillingly from the train.”
Christ, Sam hated damn heroes. Now he’d have to get nasty.
Raising the barrel end of his gun, he aimed it directly between the man’s eyes and snarled, “Stop this train, or I’ll blow a hole straight through your brain.”
Allison Radford let out a cry, then collapsed at her husband’s feet, while another passenger made a hasty exit out of the car.
The porter continued to stand there maintaining eye contact with Sam. Then when Sam thought he would not relent, he finally buckled under Sam’s hard gaze and stepped aside. “I’m sorry, ma’am. I have a wife and grandchildren to consider.”
