Johanna’s skirts fanned around her as she sank to Connor’s side. Tears choked her as she caught his hand in hers, but she endured the burning misery. Damned if she’d give the vulture the pleasure of witnessing her heartache.
Connor lay unmoving. So very still. A jagged hole marred the black wool of his greatcoat.
But where was…the blood? Johanna saw no evidence of a wound beyond the tear in the fabric. Not so much as a drop of his life’s blood.
Beneath her touch, his chest rose and fell, the motion slight. Nearly undetectable.
He was alive.
Laurel’s horrified cries tore another furrow in Johanna’s heart. Leaving Connor’s side was agony, but she had to divert their captors’ interest. If she was to protect him, the blackguards could not suspect her intentions.
She squeezed his hand. Somehow, Connor had to know she was there. That she wouldn’t leave him to die.
As she rose to her feet, Laurel threw her arms around her. Sobs soaking her skirt, Johanna drew the child close.
“Have faith, darling,” she whispered. “It will be alright.”
With a gulp, Laurel nodded and held tighter.
“How very touching.” The countess’s syrup sweet tones set Johanna’s teeth on edge. Amusement touched the she-devil’s lips as her attention wandered to the man she’d tried to kill. “I’ve always displayed admirable marksmanship. A steady hand and a keen eye, as my father used to say…before I put my skill to use on him. Of course, the old lecher deserved it.”
The countess took a step toward Connor. Her brows knit together. “My, this is distressing. Apparently, I’m not as sure handed as I’d believed. Usually, it only takes one shot.”
Terror knifed through Johanna. Gently, she released Laurel and palmed the brooch. One touch of her thumb, and she’d deploy the blade.
She moved closer, putting herself between Connor and the countess. “You’ve done enough to traumatize the girl. At this rate, she won’t be able to remember anything her father taught her. There’s no need for further violence.”
“I abhor unfinished business.” The countess studied her for a heartbeat, then another. “You think I won’t kill you?”
“Quite the contrary. You’re spoiling for the chance.”
“I’ve shown extraordinary patience.” The countess’s interest settled on Connor. He’d opened his eyes, a pain-riddled murmur on his lips. “Such a prime specimen. Pity I must finish—”
Johanna’s thumb grazed the brooch. The blade sprang free. The length of a finger. Sharp as a stiletto.
With a sharp twist of her body, she drove the knife forward. Toward the vulnerable spot in the countess’s throat.
With cobra-fast reflexes, the countess dodged the thrust. The blade arced down. Slicing flesh. Gouging her cheek.
The countess froze. A shriek of primal rage tore from her throat.
“You little bitch!”
Johanna lunged. She needed the countess’s pistol. She needed that weapon. To protect Laurel. And Connor. Fury she’d never dreamed she possessed fueled her strength.
“I’ll kill you,” the countess screamed.
Johanna seized her hands. Damn the shrew. The countess’s grip on the gun did not ease.
The derringer had held two bullets. If she couldn’t seize the weapon, she’d spend its final shell. With a hard twist, Johanna jammed the barrel down, toward the floor. With a rough cry, she forced the trigger back.
A bullet plowed into the carpet. Wrenching free, the countess retreated. Eyes wide with madness, her attention darted to Laurel. An evil smile telegraphed her intentions. She snatched up her dagger.
No! God no!
Johanna whipped around. She could not let the witch get to Laurel.
“No!” The word tore from her lungs as strong, wiry arms yanked her back. She struggled against the manacle of Ross’s hands. “Let me go!”
Another shot roared in her ears.
The countess collapsed. Limp as a rag doll. Blood pooled around the limbs splayed over the fine carpet.
“It’s better this way.” Cranston knelt to close the countess’s sightless eyes. “You scarred her. She couldn’t live with that.”
Ross dropped his hold. Johanna enfolded Laurel in her arms. “I…I had no choice.”
Cranston shrugged. “I couldn’t let her kill the girl. If what you said is true, the brat might be a valuable resource. And if you’ve deceived me, I will remedy the situation when the time comes.”
Johanna held Laurel close. “She’s seen so much…you must give her time.”
“That will not be a problem.” He watched her, seeming to study her reactions. “But once again, you’ve made a fool of me. That brooch is nothing more than a weapon. One of MacMasters’s contraptions.”
“I did not lie. It is the stone.” She pulled air into her lungs, steadying her frayed nerves. “Put to good use.”
“I’ll determine that soon enough.” He motioned to Ross. “Take the girl away. She’s seen enough for one day.”
“No!” Laurel’s arms wrapped around Johanna, frantic as a person adrift clinging to a buoy.
Johanna whispered against her ear. “Run. Fast as you can. Hide. Be clever, darling.”