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“John Brady’s due home tonight,” one of the Bricks said in a voice like gravel. “Heard it from the butcher’s boy. John’s cook was in this morning for a side of mutton and said the master would be back before sundown.”
“His carriage comes through on the main road, like everyone else,” Boyd said with a spark of greed in his eyes. “I’d say this is fortunate for us.”
“John has two footmen and a brawny coachman,” Liam pointed out.
“Milksops, the lot of them,” one of the Bricks said.
His brother grunted in agreement. “No bigger than saplings. Easy to break.” He snapped a stick between his fingers for emphasis.
“There you have it,” Boyd said, as if it was a done deal. “The Bricks can take the men, and you and I will deal with the rest.”
“His coachman will be armed,” Liam said.
“Aye, and so will we.” One of the Bricks pulled a pistol from his coat and held it up. His brother did the same. Together, they looked like grinning madmen.
“Where did you get those?” Liam asked uneasily. Over the years he and Boyd had sometimes used a pistol to hold up the occasional carriage, but it was only for show. Liam preferred stealth over brute force, and he only got into fights when there was no other way out. He and Boyd had always been schemers, quick on their feet and quick to improvise, but they’d never gone so far as shooting anyone. The Bricks were a different story. Liam didn’t actually know them very well, but Boyd had always vouched for them.
“Last week’s loot,” one of the twins said. “Lifted them off a traveling merchant.”
“Lifted?” Liam asked.
“More like pounded his face until he kindly offered them up,” the other twin said with a grin that revealed more gaps than teeth.
“You won’t need them,” Liam said lightly. He didn’t like the idea of the Bricks carrying weapons, but he knew it would be no use appealing to their logic. He targeted their pride instead. “Two strapping fighters such as yourselves. It would almost be a shame if you had to resort to using those against three spindly men. I’ve seen you take on five men apiece and walk away with hardly a scratch between the two of you. You’re that strong.”
The Bricks looked smugly satisfied. One of them grunted in acknowledgment.
“Right, well, there’s no need to get your wheel in a rut over pistols,” Boyd said to Liam. “The boys will hold up the men, while you and I relieve John Brady of his purse. We’ll meet at the bend in the road near the river.”
While they hashed out the details of the plan, Liam let the usual thrill of the hunt override his earlier unease. Robbing John Brady was a risky endeavor, but Liam’s urgency was greater now than ever because he had to think about Cora. He’d risk robbing heaven itself to keep her.
Several hours later, when the sun dipped low in the sky, Liam crouched in the branches of a tree near the bend in the road. From his vantage point he had a clear view of John Brady’s carriage approaching. Liam adjusted the cloth around his nose and mouth to obscure his face, then whistled to alert Boyd, who was hiding on the other side of the lane. The Bricks were at their posts a few yards away, and when the carriage rolled into view, they sprang into action.
Liam swung from the branch to land lightly on the balls of his feet, just as Boyd stepped from his hiding place on the opposite side of the road. Side by side, in an act they’d done dozens of times before, Liam and Boyd faced the oncoming carriage.
The horses reared, and the coachman yanked on the reins. “Who goes there?” The coachman pulled a pistol from his coat and cocked it. “Speak up, or be gone, the both of ye.”
“We’re here to do business with your master,” Liam said politely. “Won’t be but a moment.” He hadn’t even finished his sentence before one of the Bricks hauled the coachmen from his seat and tossed him into the bushes. The other Brick was already fighting the two footmen.
Liam yanked open the carriage door.
“Back away, you lowlife scum.” Spittle flew from John Brady’s wrinkled mouth. He sat with his back ramrod straight, glaring at Liam with murderous intent. His sagging face was a picture of bitter disdain, and in his gnarled hand he held a pistol aimed directly at Liam’s head.
The carriage door behind him jerked open, and John startled.
Boyd swung in, catching him in a chokehold as he struggled for the gun.
The pistol suddenly fired, missing Liam by a hair’s breadth as it cracked through the side of the carriage.
Boyd snatched the pistol from John Brady’s grip and tossed it to the floor. “Now, that’s no way for a gentleman to behave. And here we were planning on keeping things civil. Don’t move, or I’ll have to choke you until you pass out, and we wouldn’t want that, would we?”
John winced, his face growing redder by the second. “Just take the money and go.”
“How kind of you to offer.” Boyd dug through the old man’s pockets, withdrawing a fat purse of coins.
Remembering something Margaret had once told him, Liam stepped into the carriage and began running his fingers along the wood paneling. She’d once complained how her husband always carried stashes of gold with him on trips. He hid them in secret compartments in his carriages, but she was never allowed to touch any of it unless he approved.
“What are you doing?” the old man hissed. “You got what you came for. Now, go.”
