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“No?” Gatlong looked to his right, his voice far too casual as a snake smile slithered across his lips. “Jones. Get the goods.”
The thug holding a pistol at the far left end of the room moved to open the side door. He disappeared into an adjoining room for a moment, then reappeared, leading another man yanking along a struggling woman with a black hood over her head and her bare arms tied with twine in front of her.
A boulder the weight of the world plummeted into the depths of Rune’s stomach and he froze.
“I knew something didn’t smell right with Hoppler, so I brought insurance.” Gatlong stepped over to the struggling woman and ripped the black hood from her head.
Elle.
Shit.
Her dark blue eyes huge, panic flooded them as she looked about the room, squinting from the sudden light.
Her wild gaze landed on him. Panic shifted to relief. Relief that she was looking at him.
What in the bloody hell was she doing here? Doing in London? Hoppler had sworn to keep her safe and he never would have given her up as a pawn. Once he swore something, it was true as daylight. He knew that of his friend.
Panic pitched anew in Elle’s eyes as she glanced at Gatlong, but she looked back to Rune and she opened her mouth, fighting against the hold the thug had tight across her chest. “Don’t do it—don’t give it to him, Rune. He’ll go after Jules if he has that box and he can’t—”
“Shut her up,” Gatlong snarled.
The brute next to Gatlong extracted a rag from his threadbare coat and moved to Elle, stuffing it into her mouth. She bit him the second his finger breached her teeth—hard. Immediate blood flowed and the man swore, slapping her with the back of his hand.
The instant his hand raised to her it snapped Rune into motion and he charged toward them. “Elle—”
The thug with the pistol jumped in front of Rune, pointing the barrel directly at his belly and stopping him cold.
The brute holding Elle captive reached around to shove the rest of the rag into her mouth and then clamped his hand over her lips.
Gatlong chuckled. “Jones was right. She is the one he saw with you when you left Seahorn. I wasn’t convinced, but I can see it in your eyes, boy. She’s the one and you just lost all leverage.” He leaned back against the hazard table and poked the sharp point of his pick hand into the felt-lined tabletop next to him. “Now give me the box.”
Rune shook his head, his glare ripping off of Elle and going to Gatlong. “You’ll never get it.”
“Fine.” He lifted his pick hand into the air. “Then you won’t mind if I carve up Lady Raplan in front of you. I never did care for her as a sister-in-law.”
A gurgled scream came from Elle and she squirmed, kicked, trying to get free.
Rune refused to look at Elle.
Any weakness at this point was going to make Gatlong move toward him—or worse, Elle—and he needed the bastard back for the moment. He also couldn’t move toward Elle for fear the thug on the opposite side of the room would fire his pistol in her direction. Chancing a rogue bullet hitting her wasn’t an option.
He stared down Gatlong. “I’m not going to tell you.”
“No?”
“No.”
The sneer on Gatlong’s face widened. “You’ll break, boy—you’ll break the second I tear into her.”
Lifting up the skewer that was now his hand, he moved toward Elle. Her screams muffled by the rag, she struggled harder, a wildcat against the brute holding onto her.
Fury like he’d never known surged through his muscles.
He was going to save her, downing one savage after another, or he would die trying. Either way Elle would be safe. With him dead, there’d be no reason to hurt her.
Time to get on with it.
{ Chapter 23 }
