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CHAPTERTHIRTEEN
The moment they entered the carriage, Ken took Emily’s arm, sitting on the forward-facing bench with her.
Ace didn’t blame him. If it had been Mirabelle or Anna…
But he wanted Emily tucked against his side still.
He worked his injured arm. Despite the blood, it was a minor wound. He’d clean it as soon as he arrived home.
It hurt like hell, but he ignored the pain, thinking instead about Emily.
She’d nearly been shot today. And her words about only being happy with him had stoked the fire burning inside him and he didn’t know if he could put that flame out.
He had to try.
He’d been telling her the truth about not having a future to offer.
Still. Looking at her now, pale and afraid, he wished to pull her close, protect her in the circle of his arms.
He wished to hold her close, keep her there.
“Why are they attacking us in the park?” Boxby bit out.
Ace shook his head. “I don’t know.” This could be an extension of burning the club, the thieves’ revenge plot. Or, the military might have attacked and now they were on the run and looking to retaliate? “As soon as you’re safely home, I’ll see East and find out. We’ll get to the bottom of this. I guarantee it will all be sorted soon.”
Boxby grimaced. “And what of your family?”
Ace’s stomach dropped. If they’d known he was in the park, did the attackers know where his home was? Had they attempted to hurt his brothers and sisters? His fist clenched, causing his wound to give a painful throb.
“We have to go there now.” Emily tapped her brother’s arm.
Boxby shook his head. “We should get you home safely first.”
Emily lifted her hand in denial, her chin snapping up. “Mirabelle might need us. We need to go now.”
Ace wasn’t sure why, but Boxby gave a tentative nod. “Fine.”
Ace rapped up on carriage wall, shouting out the address. The carriage veered to the left. Tension knotted inside him as they made their way through London, leaving the posh east end toward Cheapside.
They finally arrived and relief rushed through Ace to see the house looking normal, the slightly faded red door, unharmed.
He burst from the carriage and bolted up the stairs, throwing open the front door to find a startled Rush standing in the middle of the entry. “What the bloody—” He clamped his mouth shut, his gaze travelling over Ace’s shoulder.
Ace glanced behind him, to see Emily and Boxby enter the house.
The air rushed from his lungs. Now that he knew all was well here, he realized that Emily was seeing his home. It was nothing like her posh townhouse.
Would she begin to understand their real differences being here?
“Is Mirabelle here?” she asked. “Is everything all right?”
“What is she talking about, Ace?” Rush asked.
“Acton?” Anna called, appearing at the top of the stairs. “What’s wrong? Are you bleeding?”
Acton. His given name. Even his family rarely used his full first name.
But the question sparked the swarming of all his siblings.
