Only a Hero Will Do (The Heart of a Hero Book 2) Page 11

  Grant braced himself for the first blow. His knife, along with the assailant’s, flew out of their hands, landing on the street. He grabbed the man’s head and brought it down hard on his knee. A soft groan escaped the man’s mouth as he slithered to the ground.

  Grant had no time to search for his weapon before the next assailant charged him and knocked him to the ground. A fierce, strong punch pounded into his jaw, sending a jolt of pain down his neck. He tried to change position, but the man on top of him was a veritable beast. Bringing his hands together in a fist, he brought them down hard on the man’s chest.

  The giant rolled off Grant, moaning in pain. But he quickly recovered, pulling another knife from his pocket. He jumped to a standing position and charged toward Grant.

  Searching for a weapon, any weapon, Grant picked up the carriage door and used it as a shield, just as the man’s hand came down for the blow.

  “Ow!” A loud screech bellowed through the night air as the assailant held his arm.

  Before his attacker could recover, Grant raised the small carriage door and smashed it on the man’s head. He turned to the other still moaning assailant and did the same to him.

  “Well, that came in handy.” He tossed the door aside and headed in the same direction Simon had gone earlier.

  The narrow street was sandwiched between warehouses. He supposed that, in daylight, this area was bustling with activity. At this time of night, the activity was illicit at best.

  Rushing between the buildings, Grant listened and looked for any signs of where Simon might have gone. A group of drunken sailors fighting in the streets caught his attention for a moment, but that was a diversion he didn’t need. He changed course, turning down an even darker street.

  A loud crash ricocheted off the buildings. Through the mist he could make out two figures fighting. He picked up his pace but as he neared, Grant realized Simon was not in need of any aid. One final punch and Simon’s opponent collapsed on the ground.

  “And here I was thinking you might need some help.”

  “My odds were better than yours,” Simon said as he bent over the unconscious man and tied him up. “This one isn’t going anywhere. He might still prove useful to Lord Fynes.”

  “Do you know where warehouse fifty-seven is?”

  “This way,” Simon said as he began running down the street. They kept a vigorous pace until they reached their destination.

  “I don’t like this,” Simon uttered. “It’s too quiet.”

  They crept around the perimeter. There wasn’t a soul in sight.

  “Stay here and keep watch,” Grant whispered to Simon.

  Every door was locked, every window boarded. No sounds came from within. Grant began to make his way back to Simon when he heard footsteps approaching. He ducked behind a stack of empty crates.

  “Oi, him said the shipment would arrive tonight aft’r the meetin’ at the house.”

  The other man voiced his opinion. “I don’t like it one bit, not at all. Someone’s goin’ to end up dead and I don’t want it to be me. That’s all I’m sayin’.”

  Grant let the two pass before he emerged from his hiding place and headed back to where Simon was keeping watch.

  “Anything?”

  “Came across two characters. Seems this is just a receiving point. There will be a delivery later, but we have no other information.” Grant looked up and down the street. “You stay here, and I’ll return to the manor and see Miss Atwell home, then notify Lord Fynes.”

  “Good luck.”

  Grant assumed Simon was referring to Elizabeth. She’d already proven on multiple occasions that she was determined not to just sit back and idly watch. Perhaps it was time for him to reconsider her role. Her decoding skills were unparalleled. With that decision somewhat firm in his mind, he picked up his pace and ran back to the house. As he approached, a small shadowy figure darted out from the mews.

  Elizabeth.

  She was going to be the death of him.

  He ran after her, but as he neared she abruptly halted, turned around and swung her fist straight into his gut. A soft grunt escaped his lips.

  “Grant?” She questioned as she backed up. “Oh, dear, did I hurt you?”

  He was more stunned by her action than injured by it. “What are you doing? I thought I told you—”

  “I know, you can reprimand me later. I finished deciphering those letters. I know where the meeting is going to take place.”

  “Where?”

  “I’m not telling.” Elizabeth raised her chin and stood her ground with an air of defiance. “I’ll show you.”

  They stood staring at each other for countless seconds, each waiting for the other to relinquish authority.

  Grant ran a frustrated hand through his hair. “We don’t have time for this.”

  “Precisely.” She started to walk off. “This way, Captain Alexander.”

  Elizabeth thought for certain Grant was going to argue with her. Perhaps he was learning she was just as serious as he was about serving and protecting their country.

  She slowed her pace as they neared Limmer’s hotel, two doors up from their destination.

  “That’s the place,” she whispered. “We need to hurry. The meeting should be taking place soon.”

  Grant stopped her as she started toward the small side garden. “Promise me if things turn, you will listen to me. This is not the best part of town for a woman, even if she is dressed as a boy.”

  He was not telling her to stay behind or restricting her. A gentleness encompassed his eyes she couldn’t refuse. “I promise.” She gave him the information she’d been withholding. “According to the missive, the meeting is to take place on the second floor at the rear of the house.”

  There was no activity on the street or near the building so sneaking in was relatively simple, apart from the old staircase that looked like it would collapse any second.

  They had just reached the second floor landing when, below them, a door opened and slammed shut. Indistinguishable chatter wound up the stairwell.

  Grant rushed past Elizabeth and opened the only door on the second floor. He took a quick glance inside.

  The voices grew louder, accompanied by the sound of creaking steps as the men approached.

  “This way,” he whispered.

  She followed, as if she had any other choice.

  The room was cast in shadows. There was a single narrow window and five old chairs. Off to one side was another, very narrow door.

  “In here.” Grant opened the door and she was barely able to slip inside.

  The space must have been used for storage at one time. It was far too small for anything else. She didn’t know how it was possible, but somehow Grant was able to squeeze through the opening. He’d just closed the door, surrounding them in darkness, when loud boisterous voices pushed into the main room.

  “He should be here soon, I tells yer,” one of the voices scolded.

  Their voices softened, their conversation impossible to make out.

  It seemed like they would be trapped here for some time. Elizabeth took in a deep breath, her heart pounding against her chest. The walls started closing in around them. She gasped on a shiver of panic.

  “Stop fidgeting.” Grant whispered the barely audible command.

  She knew she shouldn’t argue, but she needed something to distract her mind. “No one can hear us.” She didn’t want to admit the truth of her weakness. Images of her recurring childhood nightmare bombarded her mind.

  “I can’t ascertain the situation.”

  Shuffling sounds wafted through the floorboards. The noise closed in about them. This was intolerable. Her breath came in short spurts. What the bloody hell was happening to her? She felt Grant edge closer to her.

  “What’s the matter?” He questioned with a soft whisper.

  A thousand and one excuses crossed her mind, but before she could stop the words from forming, the truth escaped her mouth. “I’m fr
ightened. I don’t like dark, cramped spaces.”

  Grant shifted his position. It was too dark to see what he was trying to do, but the moment his lips brushed hers, it didn’t matter. All darkness faded into a glimmer of sensual light. The close, confined space became their intimate haven. He covered her mouth with a hungry kiss that sent delicious shivers down her spine.

  Standing up on her tiptoes, she gave herself freely to the passion swirling about them. She had dreamed of him kissing her like this more times than she had wanted to admit. Her arms instinctively went around his neck, pulling herself closer, relishing the feel of his warm, hard body.

  One firm hand trailed down her backside, settling on the swell of her hip. His lips left hers, leaving behind a fiery mass of want that needed to be sated. She wanted to protest, demand that he kiss her again, but before she could, he was kissing her jaw, trailing kisses down her neck to the hollow space at the base. Her legs felt as if they were going to collapse beneath the weight of her desire.

  In one swift movement, he switched positions and had her pinned against the wall, the full length of his hard body pressed against hers. “Oh, my…” Her words trailed off as he took her mouth in a silencing kiss. She felt transported to another time and place, a place too beautiful for words.

  “Damn you, Roke, why in bloody hell did you bring him here? You know Typhon’s rules. Don’t forget what happened to Baxter and Ward.”

  The angry words brought them out of their embrace. Elizabeth’s chest heaved with each hard breath she took, desperately trying to regain her senses.

  “Shh!” Grant whispered a warning against her ear, but it only fueled the need still coursing through her inner core. She didn’t want the moment to end, but duty called. She sucked in her breath, trying to focus on the assignment and the miscreants on the other side of the door. There would be time later to explore what had just occurred.

  Grant pressed his ear to the door. She braced herself against the wall, listening for some clue as to what was going on.

  The shouting grew louder as multiple voices argued their point.

  “That’s enough.” A firm voice broke through the chaos. “You were not brought here to fight, at least not with each other. There is much to discuss. We can’t afford another mistake.”

  That voice sounded familiar, but…

  “The rendezvous point will be three days hence at the ruins. Jones, you will deal with Sutton. The rest of you will receive further instruction at the cottage. You each have your mission. Now, go!”

  The order was followed by disgruntled mumbling and stomping of feet. Presumably, the occupants were leaving.

  Elizabeth and Grant waited for the sounds to fade. Only when all was quiet did Grant open the door a couple of inches. The room was empty. A rush of relief eased the tension in the tight space. A faint stream of light filtered in, revealing Grant’s face. His gaze drifted to hers and although his features were formal, in control, his eyes told a different story. Those beautiful blue eyes were like the sea on a clear calm day, but the feelings he stirred in her were a perfect storm of desire.

  He held a finger to his lips before turning back to the door. Without making a noise, he eased it open wider. They crept out of their hiding place and made their way down the rickety set of stairs. The street was absolutely quiet. An eerie foreboding drifted over them. Something didn’t feel quite right. She edged closer to him.

  “I think it best you return to the manor.”

  “The bloody hell I won’t.” She was not some simpering miss.

  “Do you have to use such language?”

  “I am capable, more than capable of taking care—” Her words died off as he pulled her into another embrace and kissed her hard on the lips, before pulling back and resting his forehead against hers.

  “I know you’re capable,” he said on a sigh.

  Before any other words could be spoken, a loud whip cracked through the air, causing them both to whisk around.

  “Captain Alexander, I’ve looked forward to this moment for a long time,” the pompous little man challenged as he cracked the whip again.

  “Roke,” Grant said with annoyance.

  Elizabeth backed away. Clearly this man had an issue to settle with Grant. Before she knew what was happening, the two were engaged in a fight. One in which she had no doubt Grant would arise victorious within minutes.

  As the fight continued, she saw another figure looming in the distance. Their eyes met for a brief moment before he turned, disappearing into the darkness.

  She was not going to let whomever he was escape. Pulling her pistol from her pocket, she ran after the mysterious figure. Scanning the street and alleyways, she focused on the shadows looking for the slightest movement. Behind her, Grant and the little man were in full battle. She heard him shout to her, but ignored his protests.

  Between the lampposts, a long stretch of darkness concealed the street. Narrowing her eyes, she proceeded with caution, her heart thumping wildly. Just then, a dark shadow shifted and ran down the street. There you are.

  Elizabeth picked up her pace, thankful she was wearing breeches this time. Adrenaline coursed through her veins as she took off after the shadow. She didn’t know what she would do if she caught him, but she would worry about that when the time came.

  ~~~

  This was getting dull. Grant had had enough of sparring nicely. He swung his right hand, making contact with Roke. “Who is Typhon?” The question was getting repetitive, but he would continue to ask until he discovered Typhon’s identity and brought him to justice.

  Roke was a thug at best, not a mastermind, and only adept at annoying people. Grant had to wonder how the bastard had survived as long as he had.

  “Wouldn’t you like to know?” Roke’s sly smile said he wasn’t going to divulge information willingly. So be it.

  Grant charged the man, making contact with his midsection. Roke went flying backwards landing on his back with a loud groan.

  “Alright, alright,” he said through heavy gulps of air.

  Grant grabbed the man’s shirt, lifting him off the ground several inches. “Talk.”

  Through a raspy voice, Roke choked out the words. “Baron….” He swallowed hard.

  Grant shook him hard. “Baron…who?”

  A dark flash caught his attention. Grant eased his grip on Roke as he watched Elizabeth chase after another man. Fear strangled his thoughts as he watched her disappear out of his sight.

  Roke struggled beneath his grip and brandished a large knife. Grant moved to deflect the blow. As if in slow motion, he watched Roke raise the knife and bring it down hard into his own chest. Blood instantly seeped from the mortal wound.

  Grant watched as the life began to drain from the man beneath him.

  Roke choked and sputtered on his final words. “Others will take my place.” His head slumped to one side, his eyes half closed, his breathing shallow.

  Grant realized he wouldn’t be getting any answers from Roke. Dead men did not talk. He stood and started after Elizabeth. Through the dark, he followed the sounds of soft, rapid footsteps.

  Dread sank into the pit of his stomach as shadows vanished, absorbed into the dark misty night. He couldn’t lose her. He had to protect her. He had to save her.

  A loud grunt from around the corner caught his attention. He raced to the end of the street, crept along the wall and peered around the corner into an alley.

  “There’s nowhere for you to run.” Elizabeth’s voice was music to his ears.

  “I’m not afraid to kill a woman,” the dark assailant replied with joy in his voice.

  Sick bastard.

  For the second time in one evening, Grant felt as if he was witnessing a scene from outside his own body.

  The assailant pulled his pistol, aiming it at Elizabeth. Without thought for his own life, Grant ran toward her, knocking her to the ground. The shot rang out and air wooshed past them as the assailant made his escape.

  “W
hat are you doing?” Elizabeth demanded from under him.

  He pulled her to her feet. “Come on.” There was no time to lose if they were going to catch up with the man. They could argue later. They took off down the alley, but before they rounded the corner, they collided with Simon.

  “Take her to safety,” Grant barked out as he kept running in the opposite direction from which Simon had come. Without having to worry about Elizabeth, he focused on the shadowy figure. He was not going to let him get away.

  Following the assailant into St. James’s Park, he slowed his pace as he neared a grouping of trees, and focused his attention on the sounds around him. The hoot of an owl, water rippling on a gentle breeze, soft footsteps on crispy leaves. Got him.

  One moment he was slinking from tree to tree, making his way toward the sound, the next he was being pushed to the ground. A large fist made contact with his cheek, sending a rippling of pain across his face.

  Two firm hands went around his throat. Fighting to stay calm, he extended his right hand between the assailant’s arms and grabbed hold of the man’s wrist. His left hand whipped up and grabbed the assailant’s elbow. In one quick movement, he thrust his weight to one side and changed positions. One strong punch and the assailant was knocked out.

  Voices from behind came rushing forward.

  “Grant, are you hurt?” Elizabeth yelled as she came running up to him.

  “No.” He turned to Simon. “This is not what I would call taking her to safety.”

  “I discovered the hard way that Miss Atwell does not like to always do as she’s told,” Simon said as he rubbed his jaw to emphasize his point.

  “Please tell me you didn’t hit him.”

  “Alright, I won’t.” She turned away from him and kneeled over the unconscious man and started to rummage through his coat pockets.

  “What do you think you’re doing?”

  “Searching for evidence while he’s still knocked out.”