Seduced (29 page)

“I like a little fight, so struggle all you want,” he growled against her ear as he grinned at Jack. He nipped the sensitive flesh and Letty gasped, all the color leaving her face in that instant.

“No!” Jack cried out at last, pulling away from the guard who held him. “Stop!”

O’Malley turned slowly. “Ah, so you
do
care.”

“Shit,” War said from beside him, and Jack sighed.

He had given away too much. It wouldn’t help Letitia or anyone else. But now that it was done, he was going to try to make it count.

“What can I give you?” Jack asked.

“Jack, no,” War said from behind him, his voice soft but filled with emotion.

Jack ignored him and kept his focus on O’Malley, who still held Letitia. But she’d stopped struggling and now seemed frozen in terror. “Tell me and it’s yours. Anything in trade for them.”

“I’d heard rumors, even in Ireland, about yer weakness,” O’Malley said, tossing Letitia to the side. She fell on the dirty floor with a sob and Jack breathed at last. “You were soft, they said. Too easily swayed by love, of all foolish things.”

“Perhaps I am,” Jack said, setting his jaw. “So trade on it. I’ll give you all I have without a fight. Just let Letitia and her brother and Warrick go. Once they’re gone, you can kill me in the square if you want. You can torture me until I beg you to cut my throat.”

“I was gonna do that anyway, Jackie Boy.” O’Malley grinned again.

“Jack, don’t,” Letitia said as she staggered to her feet. “Please don’t.”

“Stay where you are and don’t fight me, Letitia,” he said softly. “This is what I have to do. It would always end like this, with this person or another. That’s the game.”

“It’s not a game, it’s your life,” Letitia sobbed, reaching for him even though she stayed where he had ordered her to remain.

“Goddamn it, Jack,” War said, pushing to rise only to be shoved back down by the man guarding him. “Stop!”

O’Malley looked at each of them with a slow nod. “You’re all so very noble for a group of liars and scoundrels and whores. But it’s not gonna help you now. I know the way to get what you have, Jack. I have to take it all and leave nothing and no one behind to exact revenge.”

Jack bit back a groan of his own. Hoffman would come in a few moments, but it was likely going to be too late. O’Malley would kill everyone he held dear and nothing would be worthwhile anymore. And it was all his fault. Every damn bit of it.

He held up his hands for one final plea, but before he could he caught the slightest movement from the man who had led him in to the room. The man shifted, dipped his head, his gun moved ever so slightly.

And Jack recognized him then as one of his own men who had disappeared in the weeks and months prior. It was Brett Boyle. Bad Brett, as he’d been called. The man had changed his hair and grown a beard, but it was him. And he shot just the slightest smile Jack’s way.

Hoffman’s spy! Jack’s heart soared at the signal.

“You know, O’Malley, you’re right,” he said, flooded by hope for the first time. “But there’s one more thing to remember. You must also be careful about who you let in to your gang.”

As he said the words, Bad Brett turned his gun on the man holding War’s shoulders. He fired and the guard staggered, falling backward. War shot to his feet and swept around the chair, catching the man as he fell dead and snatching the weapon he dropped just before all hell broke loose.

Letty dropped to the floor with a scream as the door was slammed open and men rushed into the room, hurtling at each other in violence. Some were from Jack’s group, but others were from O’Malley’s. She looked for Jack in the fray and found he somehow had a weapon now. He and War were firing their guns and swinging their fists as if they had been born to do it.

She crawled along the floor toward her brother. Griffin’s chair had been flipped over in the madness around them and he lay, his back to her. He wasn’t moving, and she almost stopped breathing as she prayed he hadn’t been shot.

She reached him and leaned over. “Griffin?”

“I’m all right,” he reassured her. “I’ve been trying to get my hands free.”

“Hang on,” she said.

Above her, a man staggered past and fell right in front of her. His eyes were glassy and open, staring at her in death.

“Oh God,” Griffin said. He took a breath. “Letty, he might have a knife.”

She stared at her brother, shocked by the idea she’d have to search a dead man’s pockets. But he was right. It was the only way. She swallowed at the bile in her throat and said, “Let me look.”

She eased toward him, lifting her head to watch the fighting continue in the hall around them. It was a brutal battle, and she looked for Jack again. He and War had flipped a settee and were crouched behind it, still shooting.

She and Griffin needed some kind of cover too. But they couldn’t find it until she got him free. She crawled the rest of the way to the dead man and reached into his jacket, searching for a knife. She thanked the gods when she found one and drew it out, ignoring that her hands were now covered in the stranger’s blood.

She made her way back to Griffin and sawed at the rope tying him to the chair. At last it broke and she grabbed her brother’s arm, pulling him toward a bar at the other side of the hall. There they would be safe. Or at least as close to it as they could be.

Her brother stared at her, and then something in his eyes changed. “Come on, we’re not going to the bar. I’m getting you out of here.”

“We can’t!” Letty argued. “There’s too much chaos!”

“Exactly,” he said. “Give me the knife.”

She handed the blade to him and let him pull her behind him as he crouched and started toward the outside edge of the room. They reached the wall and Griffin tucked her against the barrier, putting his body in front of hers as a shield. She clung to his shoulders, still seeking out Jack in the battle. There were fewer and fewer fighters now as they mowed each other down.

But to her relief, Jack and War still seemed to be holding their own, along with a few of their men who had rushed the room and joined them in their position.

Jack lifted his head, and for a moment he caught her eye. He nodded, motioning toward the door with his chin before he fired off another shot.

She gripped Griffin’s arms. “We can’t leave him,” she insisted. “He needs help, he needs—”

“He can take care of himself,” Griffin interrupted. “And he’ll be better served by me getting you out of this so he can concentrate on what he has to do to survive.”

She pondered that as she allowed Griffin to guide her toward the door. Her brother was probably right that her presence was a distraction, but the idea of leaving the man she loved behind to battle it out in a gunfight with a madman was almost too much to bear.

But it wasn’t a decision she could have it make, it turned out. Just as they reached the door, Madman O’Malley rushed toward them, his eyes wide and wild.

“Oh no, missy,” he shouted. “Not so fast.”

He had his arm raised, and Letty saw that curved blade he’d threatened her with glinting in the lamplight. It was streaked with blood. She knew in that fraction of a moment that Griffin would be no match for the man. That he would slash her brother to death in one stroke and then do the same to her. Even if he wouldn’t live past that moment, it was what this man was driven to do. He was born to destroy and create pain and he would do it, even in the midst of a fight to save his life.

He smiled as he began to swing—and then the smile fell and he made a gurgling sound. His hand dropped at his side and he collapsed forward, slipping down to the floor beside them. Letty stared at the knife that was now lodged firmly in the back of his neck.

She jerked her gaze across the room. Jack was standing, his hand outstretched. He had thrown the knife. He had saved her.

And now he rushed toward her, ignoring the last surrendering fighters, as she all but shoved Griffin and rushed to meet him halfway.

Jack caught her in his arms and dragged her tight against him. His heart was pounding as he almost crushed her, his mouth finding her lips, her cheeks, her neck as he cradled her.

“I thought he would kill you,” he panted.

She smoothed her hands across his back, relieved to have him in one piece. “But he didn’t,” she whispered. “He didn’t.”

“Letitia—” he began, but before he could finish, O’Malley reared up, as if some wicked strength had returned to his body. He reached for a gun that had skittered near where he’d fallen, and raised it. Not toward Letty and Jack, but Griffin, who still remained almost frozen at the wall.

Jack roared out a wordless sound and shoved Letty aside, running toward Griffin. As the gun fired, Jack dove, his body crossing in front of her brother as the bullet sliced through his back.

War screamed so loudly and painfully that it rang in Letty’s ears. As she rushed toward Jack, War fired his own pistol and hit O’Malley, putting the dog down at last.

But it was too late. Letty skidded to her knees next to Jack, rolling him over. He grunted in pain.

“Can you move?” she whispered as both Griffin and War raced to them. Hoffman was running too—she could see him coming from across the room. “Please tell me.”

“I can move,” Jack grunted.

She smoothed his hair away from his dirty, sweaty face. “We’ll get you to Wilkerson,” she whispered. “And he’ll fix you up.”

“And Juliet,” War said. “I’ll fetch Juliet. She could fix me and I know she can fix you.”

Jack smiled, but the pain was clear on his face. For a moment Letty wished she could suck that pain away from him and bear it herself.

“All right,” Jack said. “Let them try to fix me.” He reached out and covered his brother’s hand briefly. Then he looked up into Griffin’s face. “
This
is why I tried to protect you, Merrick. Do you understand?”

“I’m sorry,” her brother breathed. “I’m so sorry.”

Jack ignored him, for his focus was now on Letty. His dark eyes held hers and she saw everything they had ever shared reflected in them. He smiled softly, just for her, and her throat closed.

“I love you, Letitia,” he whispered. “I just wanted you to know.”

Then he groaned loudly and his eyes closed, leaving Letty only to call his name and pray that somehow he would be spared.

Jack opened his eyes and found himself staring up at the ceiling in an unfamiliar room. His mouth was dry as a desert and his arm hurt like the devil.

Everything came back to him in a rush. Letitia being taken, the battle at O’Malley’s hideout. The shot from a man who should have been dead.

Was
he
dead?

He moved, and a soft voice came from the other side of the room. “Now then, Jack. No use in thrashing about.”

He lifted his head slightly and found Juliet, War’s sister-in-law, watching him as she dried her hands on a cloth. She was very pregnant, yet she moved swiftly as she approached him.

“Nice to see you awake, though you
do
look a fright.” She smiled, and there was something comforting in just that look.

“Where am I?” he croaked.

She reached for a cup and held it to his lips. He swallowed fresh water greedily before she pulled it away. “You don’t want to get sick now,” she admonished gently. “You are at your own home, Jack. Your London townhouse. It was the best place to take you, it seems, after you were injured.”

“How long have I been here?” he asked.

She pressed another pillow behind his head, and it allowed him to sit up slightly. “A week.”

“A week?” he repeated, disbelieving it. “I have been unconscious a week?”

“In and out,” Juliet said. “The pain took you at first, which was quiet merciful, I might add. The bullet hit your shoulder. Your doctor, Wilkerson—he and I thought we might have to take your whole arm, it was so damaged.”

“But you didn’t,” Jack said softly.

She shook her head. “Letty insisted we try to save it and we managed to do so. But I’m sorry to tell you that your left arm will likely never be the same.”

Jack let his gaze stray to his injured arm. From the front, it looked fine, though it was bandaged. But when he tried to move it, there was only pain and no motion.