Fall from Trace

by Rebecca Connolly

  Alex tasted blood, but it only fueled him on, and he grabbed the man by the shirt and threw him hard as he roared his fury.

  Gabe was there to catch him, pummeling him and dodging the clumsy blows he received in return.

  The dark, whirling figure had made short work of the remaining man, with slight aid from Fritz, and then suddenly pulled out a gun and pointed it at the man under the desk, whose hand had somehow managed to wriggle down towards his own pistol.

  “I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” a woman’s cultured voice rang out clearly. “Move those pudgy fingers up above your head. There’s a good lad.”

  Alex smiled at the sound of her, glancing over at Gabe, whose opponent was now as unconscious as his fellows. Gabe wiped at his bleeding lip and came over, panting a little.

  “Well, that was fun. Weaver?”

  Fritz propped his club on his shoulder, grinning like a much younger man. “I haven’t had that much fun in years.”

  “You forgot the sentry, who wasn’t nearly as inebriated as he appeared. I took care of him for you.” The woman looked at all of them, smirking with surprisingly full lips. “You couldn’t wait for me?”

  Alex shrugged. “Didn’t know you were coming. And you are?”

  “Ivy.” She held out a hand to him like a man would have. “I take it you’re Trace?”

  He shook her hand, trying not to show how impressed he was. Ivy was one of the Garden, an elite foursome of female spies that no one really knew much about, except that they were commanded by Milliner.

  “I am, yes. That’s Rogue, and Weaver I presume you know.”

  Ivy grinned at Fritz. “I do, but it’s been years.”

  “It has, my dear,” Fritz replied, nodding and smiling rather fondly. “I’m grateful for your assistance. Milliner sent you?”

  “She did, yes. Word reached her of the situation, and she knew I was in the area, so I thought I’d offer what help I could.” Ivy tilted her chin towards Poppy. “Now, I think you’d better do right by her, Trace. She looks done for.”

  Alex turned at once and ran back to Poppy, whose eyes were wide and terrified, her lips parted in shock. Her cheeks were stained with tears, the tracks of them shining through the dirt that covered her face.

  “Oh sweetheart,” Alex murmured as he sliced through the ropes at her ankles. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry you had to see that.”

  “You’re h-here,” Poppy whispered, her voice breaking on the word. “You came for me.”

  “Too bloody right, I did,” Alex choked out. He cut the ropes at her middle, then lifted her out of the chair, arms bound behind her as they were.

  He didn’t care.

  He hauled her into his arms, holding her impossibly close, as though he could have taken her into himself.

  “Oh, Poppy, I’m so sorry. Are you hurt?”

  “No,” she insisted, pulling back. “No, I’m fine.”

  Alex brushed some of her hair out of her face, shaking his head.

  “Fine isn’t even on the list of things you are right now.” He leaned down and kissed her hard, stunned to find her lips eager and engaging against his own.

  Lord, how he’d wanted to kiss her like this for weeks now… Just like this, with passion and relief and enthusiasm.

  But she’d been through hell and had just seen him at his most violent. There was no telling how that would affect her when it all settled.

  He pulled back and laughed, shaking his head again.

  “I haven’t even finished freeing you. Turn around.”

  Poppy did so, smiling a little.

  “I don’t even feel the ropes anymore, honestly.”

  “That is a sad statement, indeed,” Alex replied with a sigh, as he removed the last of her bonds. A wave of guilt rode through him painfully.

  She turned back, her expression hesitant and shy, though she didn’t seem to tremble now. “Alex… Hold me? I can’t… can’t seem to feel my feet, and I’m afraid this isn’t real…”

  “Oh, darling,” he moaned, pulling her gently back into his arms. “I’ll hold you as long as I can. As long as you need.”

  Her slender arms wrapped around his waist and she buried her face into his chest, her frame shaking on a weak exhale. He kissed her hair and rested his chin on top of her head, sighing himself.

  Then, Alex heard horses outside the building, and he tensed, looking at Fritz and Gabe. Ivy strode to the door, her tall boots hardly making a sound on the floor. She looked out, then snorted and poked her head back in.

  “Your cavalry is here,” she told them drily.

  “What?” Alex asked, smiling at her tone.

  “Oh, come on,” a loud voice complained outside. “I see a sentry down already, and Ivy’s smiling, which means we missed all the good parts. I did not ride through the night on too many horses to count to not thrash someone!”

  “Dammit,” Gabe groaned and rubbed his eyes. “Who invited Rook?”

  On cue, Rook, Gent, and Cap entered the warehouse, considering the room with interest, and looking positively haggard themselves.

  “Evening, all,” Gent greeted, placing his hands on his hips. “I see the culprits are down, and the damsel recovered. So, shall we go? I’m really very tired and could use a drink.”

  “Yes, by all means,” Alex chuckled and nodded, heading towards him, his arm around Poppy. “Let’s remove ourselves from this place.”

  Cap raised a brow. “Is it over, then?” He looked at Poppy for confirmation. “Did they say anything about who hired them or what was going on?”

  Poppy shook her head, then stopped, frowning. “Well…”

  Alex looked down at her with interest. “Poppy?”

  She glanced up at him. “I didn’t think it was significant at the time, but they mentioned a captain that would be coming in tonight, and a man called Mainsley, and a Sir Vincent? I don’t know if it means anything, but it’s all I heard.”

  Alex stared at her as horror sunk his stomach down to his toes, then forced his eyes up and away into the equally stunned faces of his comrades. “Battier. Mainsley. Castleton.”

  Cap swore softly, which was unheard of for him.

  “It’s not a kidnapping at all,” he murmured.

  Alex swallowed and shook his head very slowly. “It’s a trap.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  They moved quickly from the warehouse, praying that the lethargic guards they had encountered spoke of good timing on their part rather than the plot against them. The horses were removed back to the rest, and they regrouped with the other contacts and operatives in the area at an office Gabe picked the lock of.

  Alex held Poppy’s hand, though he couldn’t feel it, and his mind raced frantically, skimming over details at its most rapid pace yet. He’d known all along that this situation was more about him than it was about her. Hell, it had been his alias that had gotten them all into this mess. But he’d been operating under the assumption that it was one group or the other, the smugglers or the Faction.

  Not both.

  Never both.

  Sir Vincent Castleton he didn’t know at all, but Gabe had brought him up to speed back at Parkerton about what had gone on in his absence, so he knew very well who he was and what he was capable off. The man had been foiled in his attempts to fund the Faction with Margaret Easton’s fortune, thanks to Gent’s actions and subsequent marriage of the woman in question, and according to everyone else, Castleton had been remarkably quiet since that time.

  Alex couldn’t blame him; if he’d failed in an attempt to bring great things into his organization after so much trust had been placed in him, he’d have turned hermit, too.

  And he would have been desperate to prove himself again.

  No doubt Castleton was feeling that pressure now, and somehow had earned himself a measure of trust despite his failing that now permitted him to oversee this operation. He would be more determined, more dangerous, and more unpredictable.

  Mainsley was
an opportunistic mongrel who had only been placed within Cardieus because of their alliance with the Faction. He was ruthless in his treatment of others, whether associated with the Faction or not, and he’d been given free reign by his employers, which was all the man needed to create his own dictatorship within the ranks.

  He could hire whatever power he wanted no matter the cost, given he was funded by both the Faction and the Cardieus, and he was clearly one of the most useful assets the Faction had on English soil.

  And Battier…

  Alex’s skin prickled all over as the captain’s face swam into his mind’s eye. The too fair and unmarked complexion that belied cold, calculating eyes and a vindictive nature. The almost permanent sneer he saved for those he despised. The slow, mocking laughter that never reached his eyes.

  He shivered.

  “Alex?” she asked, looking at him in concern.

  He shook his head once. “We need to get Poppy out of here. Now.”

  “What?” she cried. “No!”

  “Yes,” at least three of them said at the same time.

  She looked around at them all, clearly betrayed.

  Weaver took pity on her, though his expression was hard. “My dear, there is no telling what danger lies ahead of us, and it could be far worse than what you just escaped. We cannot possibly have you anywhere near here.”

  “But…”

  “Stanton is nearby, and he will see you safely back home,” Weaver overrode with his usual charming authority. “Best to do so now before the danger starts, and we can no longer protect you.”

  Poppy’s brow furrowed in disgruntlement, and Alex looked away.

  “Surely, I can…” she tried again.

  Weaver took her hand and tugged her up, and she did not resist. He pulled her a bit away and whispered in a low voice they all could still hear.

  “Do you think Trace would be able to accomplish what needs to be done tonight if you are nearby? If there is the slightest chance of danger for you, do you think he’ll be able to function the way we need him to?”

  Alex swallowed, not caring that he could hear what was being said. After all, it was true. He, of all people, knew what could be coming, and if Poppy were anywhere in the vicinity, he would be distracted and worried.

  Spies could not be distracted and worried. That would complicate things and prevent confidence and skill from being at the forefront, which would endanger their lives and the lives of their comrades.

  Poppy needed to go. For all their sakes.

  She was silent for a long moment, then finally, she spoke in a small voice.

  “I understand. Of course. Thank you all so very much for coming to my rescue.”

  They all bobbed their heads in a series of nods, too focused on the task before them to bother with politeness or words.

  There was a long pause, and Alex sensed she was looking at him, but at that moment, the door opened, and he heard Weaver giving instructions to the contact outside to take her to Stanton at the boarding house.

  He waited for the sound of the horses to fade completely, and then sighed to himself. Right. That was done, now it was time for the rest of this mess to get sorted, and for all of this to end once and for all.

  Alex looked up at Gabe and Ivy, feeling his body settle into a controlled intensity, his mind steeled and engaged.

  “Anything from the men we left back at the warehouse?”

  “The beefy one under the desk is singing like a canary,” Gabe reported with a brief grin. “He grew quite protective of your Poppy, and he told Benson everything. Sir Vincent is on his way here from London; Mainsley is to wait for him; and Battier’s ship is off the coast and due ashore once he has the signal.”

  Alex nodded slowly, processing it all as Weaver reentered the room.

  “We need the signal to be given,” Alex said at last. “Whatever it is, whenever it was supposed to happen, it needs to. Will this man do so?”

  “I think we can make him do so,” Rook pointed out, shrugging once. “He’s been very accommodating so far. Surely, the Crown can protect him for services rendered.”

  Weaver grunted and scratched the back of his neck. “Possibly. If it works, at any rate.”

  “What are you thinking, Trace?” Gent asked, looking intrigued.

  Alex’s mind spun on the information he had, on the most likely scenarios and outcomes, and the sort of power they had in their possession.

  “Mainsley is stocky and has henchmen. He’ll be a fighter, but Sir Vincent, from the sound of it…”

  “Leave that one to me,” Gent muttered in a surprisingly dark tone. “He’s mine.”

  Alex wasn’t about to argue with that and nodded once.

  “Battier will be a different sort altogether. He’ll fight on his own, and he has several crew members that are loyal and sinister. They’ll be with him, no doubt, but whether they come ashore is another matter entirely.”

  “Did they usually go with him?” Cap asked, folding his arms and leaning against the desk. “What do your instincts say?”

  Instincts. Alex hadn’t thought much of his instincts where the smugglers had been concerned since leaving them, but he could not deny that there had been a pattern to the madness that had gone on aboard the ship. Certain men always went ashore, others only when required, so the question that remained was if this was an excursion that Battier felt required more men or fewer.

  “Twelve men,” Alex settled on, “besides Battier himself. If there is trouble, the rest would follow under the command of Janssen or Acosta for reinforcements, as he will certainly bring one of them with him.”

  “We can handle twelve,” Gabe said with a snort.

  Alex gave his cousin a hard look. “Twelve of the most vicious and skilled sailors to ever board a vessel, who fight for sport and pleasure and take no care for its violence or extremes, and take pride in the damage they can do? More animal than man, and answer only to their captain? You think we can handle that without much difficulty? Not to mention the number Mainsley could bring?”

  Gabe met his eyes and nodded. “Without much difficulty, yes. Some difficulty, no. We’ve come through worse unscathed, Trace. There are more of us here now than we’ve had in the past, and we are stronger. Let Battier come at us with his crew and his fighters. They have no idea we are aware of their plan or ahead of their schedule. We may not have much time, but we will not be caught as unaware as they expect. Jackal showed us the layout, and I know you remember every detail. Let’s see what sort of hell we can raise, eh?”

  “Please,” Rook added in an almost plaintive tone. “I am in desperate need of some hell-raising.”

  Alex snorted, but his fingers began to drum on the arm of the chair he sat in, a simple, steady pattern that echoed the steady whirling of his mind, the idea not quite formed, but close.

  If he anticipated all of this correctly, he and his comrades were supposed to find Poppy some hours from now, if not days, and no one would be sure how many men Alex would be able to drum up to help him. Reinforcements could be coming with Sir Vincent, and he highly doubted that the end goal was for him to be placed back on the ship as Torchon.

  They would want far more from him now that they knew he hadn’t been broken by their treatment of him. He and his friends would be captured and taken to France to endure worse torments at the hands of the Faction to further their cause and heighten their position, increasing the threat against the French monarchy, and the English one, to boot.

  “Well, how do we surround a ship?” Ivy asked the group.

  “I left my armada at home,” Rook quipped with an audible wince, “or I would absolutely offer it up to this cause.”

  “Really, it’s just a matter of predicting what they think is happening,” Gent informed them, ignoring Rook entirely. “Where do they think we’ll be? Where will they meet? What do they know?”

  “Yes, but there is still the matter of the ship,” Ivy insisted. “A very large ship. Filled with smugglers, as you r
ecall.”

  Gabe scoffed and waved his hand. “Oh, they won’t care what’s happening on shore unless they get some reward. They’ll be content with a good drink.”

  “Rather like your husband, Ivy, dear,” Weaver suggested with a wink.

  Ivy rolled her eyes but smiled. “Weaver, you really should be nicer about my husband, considering he’s friends with over half of your more polite associates, at least half of your less polite ones, and they all like him better than you. Besides, he is quite partial to my wishes, so if word were to reach him that you’d upset me…”

  Alex listened carefully, then smiled as the knots in his mind began to unravel and form into a structured, calculated plan that just might enable them to make the most of the situation before them.

  “Why’s he smiling?” Rook asked warily, eyes wide.

  “I haven’t the faintest idea,” Weaver replied, starting to smile himself, “but I think we’re going to like it.”

  Two by two they came to the docks, not in the structured form of soldiers, but in a leisurely, almost ambling manner. There was no haste in their actions, and nothing particularly cautious about their approach.

  Nothing was amiss, then. All the better.

  Alex watched and waited, only Gabe in his sight as the others had scattered about in strategic positions along with various contacts and associates recruited for their plan.

  His plan.

  Any moment now, the rest should follow, if their new informant was to be believed. A carriage would roll up, and the pompous, rotund, and greying man wielding all the power would disembark. Then, the rough and determined man bearing all the force would appear to meet him, followed by the malicious and seafaring man holding all the funds.

  All would arrive in a moment, and the attack would commence.

  On cue, he heard carriage wheels on the nearby cobblestone, and Alex felt a smile curve his lips as a satisfied sigh escaped. The anticipation of action was quite an addictive feeling. He’d forgotten that, but its return now was as welcome as a long lost friend.