Zoë Archer - Sweet Revenge

Jack pushed to standing, throwing Ballard off. Fist like a freight train, he rammed it into Ballard’s face. Bones crunched beneath Jack’s knuckles, and the hired muscle collapsed onto the ground. Black spatters of blood landed in the dirt. Ballard’s eyes rolled back. Though his chest moved, the rest of him didn’t.

Panting, steaming with hate and swaying on his feet, Jack faced Rockley. Eva held herself still beneath the sharp point of the nail, but she looked as angry as Jack felt. Marco and Simon had to be holding their fire, concerned that they might hit her.

Rockley glanced at Ballard’s prone form. “No wonder I hired you, Dalton. You were always the best at administering beatings.”

“Saved one for you.”

“I’ll decline your generous offer.” His gaze flicked to the case Jack held. “Let’s try this again. Hand me the money. And if you make the slightest move, the merest twitch, then I give this woman a new means of breathing.” He pressed the nail harder against Eva’s neck. She didn’t make a sound as more blood welled and dripped down beneath the collar of her dress.

It was all Jack could do to keep from launching himself at Rockley and tearing the bastard’s head clean off his body. But the long night had taken its toll on him. His legs felt so goddamn heavy. He wouldn’t be fast enough to reach Rockley before the son of a bitch stabbed Eva.

Moving stiffly, Jack closed the distance between him and Rockley. As he got nearer, he saw white lines of rage around Eva’s mouth.

“Slowly,” Rockley warned as Jack lifted his hand holding the case.

Jack did as Rockley commanded, moving at a drugged pace. Rockley snapped out his free hand and grabbed the case. Still holding on to Eva, he edged back, putting distance between them and Jack.

“Now you let her go,” Jack growled.

“I may as well put a gun in your hand if I do.” He glanced down at Eva. “She comes with me. The same terms apply. If you make a single move, or,” he added, raising his voice, “if your friends out there try to shoot me, then I stab her. Am I clear, gentlemen?”

There was a long silence before Marco’s and Simon’s voices came from out of the darkness. “Clear.”

Rockley started walking backward, taking Eva with him.

Enraged at his own helplessness, Jack could only watch as Rockley crept farther away, holding Eva.

“I’ll make you pay, Rockley,” Jack said through gritted teeth.

“No you won’t” was the answer.

Eva released her hold on Rockley’s arm. She speared her hand between her throat and the nail, pushing her palm against its tip. Blood dripped down her hand as she tried to shove Rockley’s arm away.

Jack leaped forward. He grabbed Rockley’s arm and pulled it back. As he did, she ducked out from Rockley’s grip.

Knowing she was safe, Jack launched himself at Rockley.

He and Rockley crashed into a stack of girders. Jack pinned him against the metal beams. As Rockley struggled, snarling and cursing, Jack pried the nail out of his hand.

Holding Rockley’s gaze with his own, Jack rammed the nail into the bastard’s chest.

Rockley’s eyes went round and wide. He stared down in disbelief at the nail sticking out between his ribs. Blood soaked the front of his elegant shirt. He dropped the case. Feebly, he clawed at the nail, trying to pry it from him, but blood made the metal slippery, and he couldn’t find a good grip.

Jack stepped back. He watched Rockley slide down the stack of girders, until the man sat on the ground with his legs sticking out like a doll. The case filled with money lay beside him.

“You can’t…” he gasped.

“I did,” Jack answered.

Rockley turned his glassy eyes to Eva, who came to stand beside Jack. “Please … as a woman … you must help…”

“As a woman,” she said, “I’m happy to watch you die. You won’t hurt any more of my sex. Ever again.”

“One final thing.” Jack strolled over to Rockley and crouched beside him. He reached into Rockley’s coat and pulled out the folio containing the documents. “All these? Forgeries. The real evidence is already in the government’s hands. Papers are going to be full of it tomorrow morning—your treason. I’m just sorry you won’t be around to see it.”

Rockley’s face turned even more chalky. His lips moved, but no sound came out.

“Look at me, Rockley,” Jack said. “I’m the last thing you’re ever going to see. Take the image of my face with you to Hell. I sent you there because of what you did to Edith. The moment you killed her, you killed yourself.”

Rockley gasped, shuddered, and then went still. His gaze became vacant. His chest stopped moving.

He was dead.

Slowly, Jack got to his feet. He stared down at Rockley’s lifeless body. The elegant nobleman sprawled in a pool of his own blood, his handsome face now waxy. Jack waited for the feeling of triumph. It didn’t come. All he felt was tired.

“Jack.” Eva took his hand, tugging him away. “The police will be coming.”

He turned from the body to look at Eva. The exhaustion wrapping around him disappeared. She was scratched, bloodied, beautiful. And alive.

All he wanted to do was wrap her in his arms and never let go. But the coppers’ whistles cut through the air.

He grabbed the case of money, took her hand, and together they ran into the night.

* * *

The back room at Ockham’s public house was filled with odd and broken debris: tables missing legs, chairs whose backs had broken off, half a poster advertising Greywell’s beer. Currently, it also held all the members of Nemesis, some of whom looked just as damaged as the furniture. Too tired to sit, Eva leaned against a wall, while the men arranged themselves throughout the cluttered room, talking in low voices.

A note had been sent to Miss Jones and her family, telling them to meet Nemesis here, rather than at headquarters. With Rockley’s mysterious death all over the morning papers, it was the safer option.

Those papers were now spread across several listing tables. NOBLEMAN’S TREACHERY! LORD ROCKLEY MEETS A BAD END AS BETRAYAL IS JUSTLY REWARDED.

Sunlight trickled through a high window as Harriet finished bandaging Jack’s back. Despite the fact that his wounds were more severe than Eva’s, he’d insisted that Eva be treated first. The cut at her throat wasn’t very deep and wanted only some cleaning and a salve. Her hand, however, bore a deep puncture, and was swaddled in bandages. It would be a few weeks before she’d have full use of her hand. But this was all inconsequential compared to the damage Jack had taken.

He sat on one of the backless chairs while Harriet made her last adjustments to his dressings. Gauze crisscrossed over his bare chest. He was bruised, battle weary—a warrior.

Jack had fought for her, been willing to do anything to keep her safe. Warmth centered in her chest and spread outward.

He caught her looking at him, but he didn’t smile. Just stared right back. She wanted to press her lips to his bandages. Feel the thrum of his pulse beneath her hand, and swallow his breath. The seconds kept creeping forward, toward a time when she’d no longer know the texture of his skin or hear the rough rumble of his voice. She had to gather close what she could while she still had time.

“If you rest and not push yourself overly hard,” Harriet cautioned him, “you’ll be healed within a few weeks.”

Jack grunted softly. “Don’t know what you mean by rest .”

“Familiarize yourself with the term.” Harriet patted him on his shoulder, missing the sharp glance Lazarus aimed at her.

Jack stood and was slipping his arms into the sleeves of his shirt when Miss Jones and her parents entered. The young woman and her mother took one look at a partially dressed Jack before they immediately turned their gazes to the floor.