“The Duke shall pay you handsomely for Miss Donovan’s release,” Alec put in. “I’m the one you say you want. You have no reason to keep her.”
“Oh, Oi wouldn’t say no reason.” Tom’s laugh made Kendra’s skin crawl. “Oi can think of at least one reason ter keep ’er.”
Alec’s expression hardened and his jaw clenched. “The Duke of Aldridge would not want Miss Donovan harmed in any way.”
Kendra had to give Alec points for trying. In his world, the mere mention of the Duke’s name was enough to evoke respect, even fear. But their captors were clearly from the underbelly of London, far away from the so-called Polite World with its rules and restrictions.
“Oo’s talkin’ ’arm,” Ned said with a chuckle, and reached over to squeeze Kendra’s thigh. “Oi’m thinkin’ me and the lass’ll ’ave a bit o’ fun.”
Kendra stiffened. She had to stop herself from reacting to the unwanted hand clamped around her thigh. It was too dangerous to fight back in the carriage’s confined space, with two guns pointed at them. She looked at Alec, worried that he might attempt something. He was staring at the man who was touching her, and she had to suppress a shiver at his expression. She’d seen him furious before—often at her—but this was something more. This was lethal.
Ned laughed again, but the sound was forced and uneasy. When he withdrew his hand, Kendra knew it was a victory. Unfortunately, it would be a short-lived one. Because she knew that whoever was waiting for them at the end of the carriage ride had no intention of letting them go.
13
Time really was relative. The carriage ride seemed to go on forever, oppressive in its silence. And yet when the vehicle finally rolled to a jerky stop, the journey had suddenly been too short.
Kendra found herself holding her breath when the coachman opened the door. Snake hopped down with the nimble grace of a child, followed by Ned, who turned and pointed the gun at Kendra. She hesitated but realized that even if the thug was close enough for her to make a grab for his weapon, there was still Tom, who was aiming his flintlock at Alec.
Exhaling, she climbed out of the old carriage and looked around, a little surprised to find herself on a busy thoroughfare, people streaming around them. Men dressed in similar fashion to their kidnappers brushed past them, balancing wooden barrels or bags of grain or milled flour on their wide shoulders. Others pushed wheelbarrows filled with an assortment of cockles and fish. There were women and children running to and fro, as well, carrying baskets of produce, flowers, and laundry. Horses clopped down the street, either with single riders on their backs or harnessed to wagons, hauling everything from dead carcasses to crates with squawking chickens inside. A scraggly herd of cows moved down the center of the street, prodded by two farmers carrying sticks.
A mishmash of businesses and tenements rose up on either side of the street. The stink of manure, rotting animal flesh—at least she hoped it was the four-legged, fish, or fowl kind—and hundreds of unwashed bodies had Kendra swallowing hard to prevent her gag reflex from kicking in.
They were still in London, she knew, but it was hard to imagine that this was the same city occupied by the elegant streets and stately homes of Grosvenor Square. They were probably only a couple of miles away, but she felt like she’d landed on a planet in a distant galaxy.
Don’t you see us? Kendra wanted to shout as the flood of humanity swirled past them.
But she knew that they did. She could see their plight reflected in their quickly averted faces, their darting eyes. They could see them. They just wouldn’t help them.
“Keep yer mouth shut if’n yer thinkin’ of screamin’. No’ne ’ere will care,” Tom said. “Go on now. Move!”
The ruffian herded them forward much like the farmers prodding their cows to market. To slaughter, Kendra corrected, and had to suppress a shudder.
They were directed into a long, skinny alley. As they walked, Kendra’s mind raced with possible escape scenarios. Unfortunately, their captors were clever in keeping her and Alec separated, with Snake between them and Ned and Tom coming up the rear. Kendra couldn’t envision a situation where either she or Alec wouldn’t get a bullet in their back if they tried to escape.
They emerged in a large outdoor area, about the size of a basketball court, surrounded by the rear end of attached and semi-attached two-and three-story buildings. The exteriors were either brick or stucco, darkened with coal soot, chipped and cracked. The ground was mostly dirt, with a few clumps of spindly blades of grass poking through. Wooden barrels and empty crates were stacked against the buildings. Flies buzzed in dense hordes around abandoned glass bottles and earthenware jugs, as well as a shallow pit that had been dug in the middle of the clearing.
“Cockfighting pit,” Alec identified softly.
Tom heard him and laughed. “Aye, but terday it won’t be birds. It’ll be a different kinda cock fight. Eh, Ned?”
“Aye, Tom,” Ned agreed, laughing.
Kendra didn’t hear anything, but it was as though a signal had rung. Doors slammed open and men began streaming out of the narrow alleyways between the buildings, two dozen, at least, hard men with pitiless eyes. Their gazes locked on Alec and Kendra as they formed a circle around the pit. About half of them were silent and hostile. The rest were jovial, talking to each other and laughing. The air was suddenly ripe with more than body odor. A testosterone-induced lust for violence seemed to blaze. Kendra could see it in their body language, in their fisted hands and feral gazes.
They want blood.
Kendra could feel Alec tense beside her, angling his body in such a way as to shield her. Impossible. Even though some unseen force was keeping these men on a leash, she knew that even if she or Alec could figure out a way to escape, they’d be torn to bits by the mob.
She struggled to stay calm as she scanned the ground, looking for something, anything, that she could use as a weapon. A heavy stick or lead pipe. Maybe if she could tear off the slats to one of the crates . . .
“I am Bear!”
The voice was so loud that Kendra could’ve sworn it rattled a few of the glass windowpanes in the nearby buildings. Her mouth went dry with fear at the sight of the man who sauntered out of one of the alleys and into the clearing. He had to be about six-foot-seven, with a neck the size of a tree trunk that spread out into massive shoulders and a barrel chest. Kendra gauged him to be at least three Xs beyond extra large, but none of the weight he carried appeared to be from fat.