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When the young man took a menacing step forward, Angus whipped out his gun and leveled it.
“Stay put, laddie,” he calmly said.
“Want me to shoot ’im, Bill?” asked the bewhiskered guard, who had also pulled out a pistol.
“Not unless ye wants to be stuck like a pig,” Emmy said with grim satisfaction.
Apparently, while Whiskers had been retrieving his weapon, Emmy had unearthed a knife and was now pressing it under her former guard’s ribs.
The big fellow threw her a startled glance. “Come on, Em. No threats now, ye ken. We’re friends, ain’t we?”
“No,” the girl snapped.
“Could we please refrain from murdering one another?” Graeme barked. “You all need to put down your blasted weapons.”
“Glad someone is talkin’ sense.” Bill actually sounded almost amused.
Sabrina felt ready to jump out of her skin. Nor could she draw out this absurd conversation much longer. If Royal and Grant didn’t soon appear, it was likely someone would be shot or knifed—accidentally, most likely, given the way the evening was going.
“Girl, did ye bring the money or not?” Bill demanded.
“Best hand it over,” Angus advised in a low voice. “Looks like the plan went sideways.”
She sighed and opened her reticule, extracting the thick bundle of pound notes.
“Blimey,” exclaimed one of the lads.
Even Bill looked impressed. “Bring it ’ere.”
She shook her head. “First let Mr. Kendrick go.”
“Not until we’re paid and on our way.”
“It’s fine, Sabrina,” said Graeme. “Angus, take the money and give it to Bill.”
“Nae,” the gang leader snapped. “Shegives it to me or the deal’s off.”
After a fraught silence, a quiet snarl emerged from the cubbyhole. “If ye touch a hair on her head, I’ll throttle ye. Then I’ll rip out yer guts and set them on fire.”
Bill went a bit pale, which was understandable. Graeme’s low, lethal tone was terrifying.
Perversely, it made Sabrina quite lighthearted.
“Not to worry, Mr. Kendrick,” she said. “Old Bill doesn’t frighten me in the least.”
She marched up to the table and held up the wad of notes. But when he grabbed for it, she pulled it out of his reach.
“First, I’ll have your word that you will leave Tilly and her brother alone,” she said.
He gave her a sour look. “Aye, ye have it. She was gettin’ to be more trouble than she was worth. Too cheeky by half.”
“Yes, abusing children tends to make them cheeky,” she replied in a withering tone. “Which is why I will also have your word that you will cease recruiting children.”
“Oh, aye, and just how am I supposed to support myself?”
“I am about to hand over fifty pounds—that’s more than enough to help you get started in a respectable business.”
He snorted with disgust.
