Bedford Street Brigade 02 - Love Unbidden (6 page)

“Jack! Grab Nellie and help her to a chair. Then get the brandy from the other room.”

Strong arms wrapped around her and led her to a chair. Before the room stopped spinning, a glass was held to her lips and she had no choice but to drink.

She sputtered when she took her first swallow, but at least the room stopped spinning.

“Are you all right, Nellie?” Quinn’s voice was filled with concern.

She lifted her gaze and found herself drowning in the intense worry in Quinn’s deep brown eyes. “I’m fine. It’s just the excitement.”

Quinn reached for her hand. “Everything’s over now. There’s nothing to worry about.”

Quinn gave her hand a gentle squeeze, then turned his attention to Jack. “There’s a package in the carriage. I think it might shed some light on what Paxton is involved in.”

Jack left, and returned a minute later carrying a small bundle.

“I found this at a warehouse Paxton Import is using. There are dozens more just like it there.”

Mack looked up from bandaging Quinn’s arm. “My guess would be opium,” he said.

Jack set the bundle on the table and peeled away the outer layer. What remained was a large brick of the poison that had destroyed the lives of so many people.

The three men looked from one to the other.

“We have to get the rest of the bundles before Paxton moves them,” Mack said. “Jack and I will swing by Hugh and Roarke’s boarding house, then pick up Briggs. But we have to hurry. I’m sure whoever shot Quinn has already gone to inform Paxton that they’ve been discovered.”

Jack was already on his feet and heading for the door.

“I’m coming, too,” Quinn said, struggling to get to his feet.

“No,” Mack ordered. “Stay here. The rest of us will take care of this. You’ll only get yourself killed.”

“No! This is my problem.”

“Stay here, Quinn,” Mack said. “That’s an order.”

The minute Mack left the kitchen, Quinn picked up the glass of brandy on the table and threw it.

Nellie wasn’t sure what startled her more, the shattering of the glass Quinn threw against the wall. Or the front door slamming behind Mack.

Quinn reached for his gun
that lay on the table and struggled to rise. He was weak, but there was no way he was going to stay where he was safe while the other investigators risked their lives. He’d never forgive himself if he wasn’t there to help them.

“I need your help, Nellie,” he said when his second attempt to rise failed.

When she didn’t move, he darted a glance to where she stood.

The expression on her face sent a wave of alarm racing through him. “Nellie, please. Help me rise. I’ll be fine once I get to my feet.”

She twisted her hands in front of her then shook her head. “You can’t. You’re not strong enough.”

“I don’t have a choice, Nellie. I can’t let Mack and the others face Paxton alone. He’s smart…too damn smart, the way he forged the papers to hide the money, the way he kept the smuggling going right under his father’s nose, the way—”

Her expression filled with fear. Fear for him. “Stay here. Please.”

“You know that’s not possible.”

Nellie stared at him for several long moments. He saw by the expression on her face that her desire to keep him where he’d be safe warred with the responsibility she knew he felt to finish his mission. He watched her struggle to make a decision. He knew the choice was difficult for her.

“I have to go, Nellie. You know I do. Please, don’t make me do something that I’ll regret for the rest of my life.”

Quinn knew the exact moment Nellie realized what he meant. He knew the second she realized that forcing him to stay where he’d be safe seemed cowardly to him. And that weakness would eat away at him forever.

She nodded, then stepped close to help him to his feet.

When he stood, he wasn’t steady. Digging the bullet from his arm had taken a lot from him. He’d lost a lot of blood. But he’d have time to recover later—after he made sure Paxton was no longer a threat.

“What are we going to do?”

“I’m going to go to the warehouse Paxton uses to hide the opium. You’re going to stay here until I return.”

“You’re not strong enough to go by yourself. I’m going with you.”

“No.”

Nellie released her grip around his waist. He staggered and had to steady himself against the door frame.

“We either both go, or neither of us goes.”

Quinn looked at her set features and knew arguing with her would waste valuable time. “Very well. You can go. But you’re not getting out of the carriage.”

Nellie wrapped her arm around his waist again and helped him to the door. The fact that she hadn’t agreed to stay in the carriage wasn’t lost on him, but he’d cross that bridge when they got to it.

Nellie helped him step up into the carriage, then gave him the reins. As the carriage neared the wharf, Quinn hoped that they weren’t too far behind Mack and the others. Perhaps they’d even arrive before them, since Mack intended to stop for Roarke, Briggs, and Hugh.

They turned the last corner and the warehouse came into view.

The area was a hive of activity. Several wagons were pulled up to the front, and men were toting bundles of the contraband out of the warehouse, and loading them in the wagons.

Mack and the others weren’t there yet. Other than the men carrying the bundles of opium, the only other carriage in sight was a shiny black carriage with the letter P on the door. That meant Carter Paxton was here.

“Stay here,” Quinn ordered Nellie, then reached for the door.

“No, don’t go, Quinn. Wait for Mack and the others.”

“I can’t. From the look of it, they’re almost finished. They have to be stopped now or they’ll get away.”

“You can’t stop them by yourself. There are too many of them.”

“Mack and the others will be here soon. I can hold them off until help arrives.”

“No!”

“I have to, Nellie. This is what I do.”

Quinn stepped out of the carriage, then turned back to her. He couldn’t leave her unprotected. What if the others didn’t arrive in time? What if something happened to him before they did? He reached in his pocket. “Here. Take this.”

Quinn handed her the second gun he always carried. “Be careful with it. It’s ready to fire.”

She pulled back from the pistol. “No, you keep it. You might need it.”

“Take it, Nellie. And don’t be afraid to fire it.”

“Quinn—”

“Shh, lass. I can’t waste any more time.” Quinn turned away from the carriage, then stopped. There was something else he had to tell Nellie—just in case he didn’t have the chance later.

He turned. “I love you, Nellie. I have for a very long time.”

Tears filled her eyes but he couldn’t go back to hold her like he wanted to. He couldn’t kiss her one last time. He needed to move before Paxton’s men finished and they escaped.

Quinn made his way to the warehouse on shaky legs, praying that he’d have the strength to hold Paxton’s men until Mack and the others got here. When he reached the open warehouse door, he cocked his pistol, then looked inside.

There were six men removing the bundles of opium. They were all inside at the moment and in relatively close proximity to each other. If he stepped forward now, they’d be easier to control. He aimed his gun, and stepped inside the door.

“Stop where you are.”

The six men turned. Four of them held onto the bundles in their arms. Two did not. It would be less likely any of them could reach for a weapon if they were holding bundles of opium.

“You two, pick up the bundles you dropped.”

When neither of the men moved, Quinn waved his pistol. “I’d pick up your bundles if I were you. Especially you,” Quinn said, pointing to the man who’d shot him when he was there earlier. “I’d love to put a bullet in your gut.”

The man’s eyes narrowed. “That’s mighty brave talk for one man facing the six of us.”

“Except he’s not just one,” Nellie’s voice said from behind him.

Quinn thought he knew fear. But nothing caused terror to race through him like knowing that Nellie had put herself in danger because of him.

Quinn motioned for her to step beside him. If she were close, perhaps he could shield her if things went wrong.

She moved toward him, then pointed her gun at the man standing closest to her. “I’m not a very good shot,” she said in a voice that sounded amazingly calm and steady, “but even I doubt I’d miss hitting at least one of you from this distance.”

The two men who’d dropped their bundles slowly bent to retrieve them.

“That’s better,” Quinn said. “Now, stand in a line against the wall.”

Quinn pointed to the spot where he wanted them to go, but before they could move, a loud, angry voice stopped them from moving.

“You!” an irate voice said from the side of the warehouse. “This is all your fault!”

Quinn turned. He expected to face Carter Paxton. Instead, Baron Paxton stepped out from behind the bundles.

Paxton took several steps toward them. His face was an angry mottled red, and the hand holding a pistol aimed at Quinn’s chest shook uncontrollably.

“You’ve ruined everything! Everything!”

“Put the gun down, Lord Paxton. Murder is far worse than what you’ve done so far.”

“Maybe,” Paxton answered, “but killing you will give me great satisfaction.”

“It will also give the authorities more cause to go after you.”

“Do you think they’re likely to overlook what I’m doing here?”

“No, not overlook it. But perhaps exact a sentence that isn’t as harsh as the one you will get for murder.”

“Only if they discover what I’ve done.”

“They’ll discover,” Quinn said. “Five more Bedford Street investigators are right behind me. They’ll be here before you can safely get away.”

“Do you expect me to believe you?”

Before Quinn could assure Baron Paxton that Mack and the others were on their way, his son, Carter Paxton stepped into the warehouse.

“Father! What are you doing?”

“Carter, go home!”

Carter Paxton looked around the area—at the bundles of contraband, and the men standing against the wall. “Father? What is the meaning of this?”

“I’m saving you. I’m saving Paxton Import.”

“Saving it from what?”

The incredulous expression on Carter Paxton’s face told Quinn that Baron Paxton’s son didn’t have a clue as to what was going on.

“Stay out of this, Carter. I’ll handle this. Like I’ve always handled everything.”

“What do you have to handle?” Carter Paxton took a step toward his father.

“Get back, Carter. Go home.”

“No.”

The gun in Baron Paxton’s hand shook. Quinn saw the trembling as
a sign of desperation. Desperation to salvage what he could from a situation that was unraveling before him. Desperation to keep his son in the dark as to what was going on. Desperation to pretend there was a way for things to be as they’d been before Wharton had discovered the ledgers, before the baron had framed the wrong man. Before Quinn had discovered he was smuggling opium to make sure there was enough money for his son to continue the lifestyle to which he was accustomed.

“Go home and let me take care of this!”

“What have you done, Father?”

“I saved you.”

“Saved me from what?”

“From bankruptcy.”

“Bankruptcy? We’re not bankrupt, Father.”

“How would you know, Carter? All you do is live life without a care where your next pound comes from.”

Carter Paxton stared at his father as if he were seeing him for the first time. “Are you saying that we’re short of money?”

“Not short of money, Carter. We’re destitute. We’ve been living on borrowed pounds and credit for years.” Paxton shifted his gaze back to where Quinn stood. “Except I made a mistake, didn’t I?”

“What mistake, Father?”

“I framed the wrong person. Henry Dunston didn’t take the ledger. He didn’t know anything about this.” The baron waved his arm to encompass the bundles of opium. “Phineas Wharton took it. He was the one who discovered what I was doing. He was the one who could ruin us.”

“Are you saying that Henry Dunston didn’t steal the money that was found in his home?”

Baron Paxton looked at his son, then his gaze darted around the room like the trapped animal he was.

Quinn answered Carter Paxton’s question. “No. Your father planted the money, then told the authorities he suspected Henry of stealing from him. He even told them where they would likely find the money.”

“Why, Father?”

“To keep him quiet! I thought he’d discovered what I was doing. I needed to get rid of him.” Baron Paxton’s shoulders sagged. “But it wasn’t him. It was Phineas. My long-time friend, Phineas.”

Carter Paxton staggered under the weight of what he heard. “Why, Father? Why didn’t you simply come to me?”

“What could you have done?”

“I could have stopped spending. I could have—”

“I didn’t want you to. I wanted you to enjoy your youth like you were doing. Like I never got to do because my father died when I was young and I had to assume responsibility for everything.”

“But I could have. I wouldn’t have minded.” There was a long silence when no one said anything. Finally, Carter Paxton raked his fingers through his hair, then turned his gaze to Quinn. “What’s to happen to us?”

“I suggest you send word to your lawyer to meet you and your father at the Metropolitan Police Office, then let your father make a full confession of what he is involved in.”

“No!”

Baron Paxton lifted the gun in his trembling hand. It was aimed at Quinn’s chest. But the bullet could easily miss and hit Nellie instead.

Quinn stepped to the side to shield her.

He staggered, and Nellie reached out to support him.

Quinn was weak and losing the battle to stay on his feet. Yet, he knew how close the baron was to losing control and firing his weapon. He knew he had to make at least one more attempt to ease the situation. Knew if he didn’t, any chance for a life with Nellie would be taken from him forever.

Quinn locked his gaze with Baron Paxton’s. “Don’t make things worse, my lord. Go with me to the authorities. Put this all behind you.”

Baron Paxton hesitated for what seemed an eternity, and Quinn was sure he was going to ignore his suggestion. He was sure he was going to keep up the fight to get out of this without going to the police. But finally, he lowered his arm that held the pistol. His expression fell, and Quinn realized he was looking at a desperate, defeated man. A man stripped of all pride and dignity. But a man who, although Quinn couldn’t explain why, appeared more dangerous than he’d been with a gun pointed at Quinn’s chest.

“All right.”

Quinn watched as Baron Paxton walked forward. His son remained at his side.

The hairs stood out on the back of Quinn’s neck as Paxton neared.

“Drop the gun, sir,” Quinn said quietly.