by Rebecca King
“I am not going out there alone at night.” Her voice trembled with fear, and she was safely ensconced in a nice, warm study with three huge men beside her.
“You won’t be alone,” Pie countered. There was very little reassurance he could give her because he hadn’t discussed the finer details with Hugo. “Come on, it is time to get some sleep while you can.”
Thoroughly confused, and with her fears growing by the minute, Florrie took the hand he offered her and stood up. After bidding a quiet goodnight to the others, she meekly followed Pie out of the room, aware of the careful scrutiny of the men behind her. She knew they still suspected her and couldn’t help but wonder why they had decided to help her. Did they still believe that the debts were hers rather than Tabatha’s? Or, did they think that she was the killer of the man she had found?
Her thoughts swirled in a confusing kaleidoscope of fears and anger until she wasn’t sure what to make of any of it. Exhaustion weighed on her shoulders and she made no protest when Pie opened the door for her and followed her into the room.
“What are you doing?” She asked. She stood back and watched while he closed the shutters and checked under the bed.
“I am checking to make sure the room is safe. Don’t answer the door to anyone until I come and knock for you when it is time to get up.”
She didn’t hesitate to agree to whatever he wanted. Not only was she tired, but she desperately needed a few moments to herself to gather her thoughts. She still didn’t know what to make of the day’s events, and couldn’t lose sight of the fact that the day to come was only a few short hours away.
Pie closed the door and waited until she locked it before he moved to his own room further down the corridor. Luckily, Crompton wasn’t all that big and it had a relatively easy lay-out to remember. He was fairly certain that if anything untoward did happen to Florrie during the night, one loud scream would have him at her room within a matter of seconds. Keeping that thought in mind, he made no attempt to get into bed and merely lay on the covers still fully dressed. He should try to at least catch forty winks, but sleep seemed to elude him. His thoughts were firmly locked on the woman further down the corridor.
The way she seemed to sidle against him, almost without thought, humbled him as well as amused him. Her silent appeal for protection was usually something he would have considered clingy and annoying but with Florrie, he felt slightly touched that she did feel that she could turn to him. He was fairly certain that it had nothing to do with his need to get the truth from her.
Whatever happened tomorrow, Florrie had to be kept safe and sound. He wouldn’t countenance any other possibility. With a wide yawn, he closed his eyes. Within seconds he was sound asleep.
Florrie shivered as the cold night air swept beneath her cloak. She was shrouded from head to foot in a cloak that was twice the size as she was. She had been aghast when Hugo had wrapped it around her and told her not to secure it. Apart from the catch that held the heavy item at her throat, it was hanging on to her with nothing more than a wing and a prayer. Still, she was grateful for its warmth. She had enquired why she couldn’t wear her own cloak, but Hugo had merely given her a secretive smile.
It had been agreed that Hugo would escort her to the churchyard. Pie had already left and taken up position beside a gravestone near to the main gate. His vantage point gave him a clear view of two thirds of the churchyard. The other third would be watched by Hugo. Simon was prowling around Crompton, and Archie had disappeared into the woods to keep a look out and follow anyone who appeared or was lurking in the undergrowth. Jonathan was already inside the church having spent the night with the corpse, much to his disgust. Rupert and Stephen were still watching the brewery.
Florrie’s heart pounded as she stared at the huge bulk of the church growing ever closer. She glanced over at the rustling trees that were bending and swaying in the stiff breeze and shuddered. She had never really understood what the men from the Star Elite actually did for a living and the thought of what they endured filled her with horror.
Her thoughts turned to Archie who was all alone in those woods, waiting for a murderer to appear and then on to Jonathan, who had spent the night in a cold church with a corpse only a few feet away, and shuddered in horror. Pie was sitting somewhere amongst the gravestones and the rest of them were heaven only knew where. She shuddered and felt a little sick. In a desperate attempt to keep the hysteria at bay, she mentally ran through Hugo’s orders: keep her head down and the cloak hood pulled over to cover her face; head straight toward the front door of the church; drop the coins on the floor of the porch; turn around; once the coins have been delivered, head straight back to Crompton; don’t stop; don’t look up; if anything happens, scream and hit them with the pouch of coins and then run.
Tugging the hood of her cloak down to cover her face a bit more, she bit back the fear that threatened to buckle her knees. Only a few minutes ago she had been awoken by Pie as promised, and had sluggishly left the bed feeling more than a little grumpy. Now though, she wished she was back in her room where it was warm, light and safe. Her thoughts turned briefly to her aunt Tabatha who was inevitably tucked up in bed, and she felt a bitter surge of anger toward her selfish step-aunt.
Still, if doing this proves your innocence Florrie, just get on with it, she chastised herself. Closing her eyes she sent a mental prayer heavenward and cautiously approached the short driveway that led to the church. Her eyes scanned this way and that but she couldn’t see anything untoward, not even any sign of the Star Elite who had promised that they would be there.
Her heart pounded in her ears so loudly that she knew that if anyone crept up on her, she wasn’t likely to hear them through the heavy pounding in her ears. She visibly shook with the need to turn and run back to safety, but felt a responsibility toward the men who had all left their beds that night to help her. It wasn’t fair on them for her to turn and run away from their careful planning. After all, if it wasn’t for them she wouldn’t know where she would be.
She turned cautiously into the churchyard, her tread silent and steady. The huge doorway to the old church loomed like a gaping mouth, waiting to swallow her up. Walking through the gate, she winced as it squeaked loudly in protest, and froze for one infinitesimal moment.
Had she heard rustling in the bushes? Or, was that Archie? Her eyes were wide as they scanned the area around her. She wished that Pie was there, or she could at least see him. Her only reassurance was the knowledge that he was in the churchyard somewhere. She could only hope that he would be able to get to her on time if anyone tried to accost her. She swallowed and clutched the bag of coins tighter in her hand. If anyone did come up behind her, Hugo had told her to hit them with the heavy object, and hard. He had made it clear that nobody was to allow the target to leave the churchyard conscious. Florrie had shuddered at the ruthlessness behind his order but had understood their need to keep this quiet. It seemed to be the way they worked and it was amazing as much as it was horrifying.
She couldn’t help it, she glanced this way and that as she walked down the pathway; anything to keep her eyes off the dark mass of the church door. Taking a deep breath, she crept quietly closer. If the door opened now, she was certain she was going to expire there and then. Carefully keeping her gaze averted from the spot where she had discovered the body, she finally arrived at the porch and dropped the bag of coins on the step. Quickly turning around, she struggled to keep her tread sure and steady as she made her way back toward the main driveway. The walk seemed far longer than she could remember it being in daylight. Desperation to get back to safety clawed at her relentlessly. Fear made sweat pop out on her brow.
Suddenly, a loud explosion broke the air. She gasped as something whizzed past her head and she spun around in alarm. Another explosion was accompanied by strong arms that swept her off her feet and unceremoniously dragged her to the ground. Chaos seemed to explode around her. Loud curses were accompanied by heavy sounds of something she
couldn’t decipher. A scream locked in her throat as she was half-carried, half-dragged across the churchyard. She squirmed and wriggled in a desperate attempt to get away from the man who had a strong hold on her, but froze at the sound of Pie’s low growl from somewhere above her head.
“Stop it, I am trying to get you out of here,” Pie gasped, shoving her roughly against the bottom of the stone wall that ran around the church. He pushed her against the rough stonework and lay against her, protecting her with his body.
“Are you hurt?” He gasped, trying to break his thoughts away from their intimate position. He mentally prayed that she would answer him and that he hadn’t caused her injury by throwing her to the ground as roughly as he had.
“What was it?” Florrie gasped, aware of loud curses and the heavy thump of footfall from the other side of the wall.
“Keep quiet,” Pie breathed into her ear. He was trained enough to know to remain still for the time being. His head rested lightly on hers as they lay on the ground and he could feel the reassuring moisture of her warm breath as it brushed across his neck. She wasn’t moaning or complaining of pain and he could only take that as a good sign.
Luckily, he had tackled her while she was still in the churchyard. They had the wall as protection from the gunman who had been standing on the edge of the woods on the opposite side of the driveway.
He mentally cursed at the memory of the sound of the bullet whizzing past, and knew that she had been as close to being hit as anybody could have possibly been. He listened intently to the scuffles and thumps coming from nearby and waited with as much patience as he could muster.
It was the second time in two days that she had come too damned close to having her life brutally ended, and he was damned determined that there wouldn’t be a third time, Hugo’s orders or not. The woman in his arms was going to be kept safely confined to the secure walls of Crompton and nothing, and nobody, could persuade him otherwise.
He sucked in a deep breath and smelled the faint scent of honeysuckle. Without thinking, he placed a gentle kiss on the top of her head and hugged her just a little bit closer.
CHAPTER EIGHT
A low owl hoot accompanied by a long, low whistle was the signal he had been waiting for. Puffing out his cheeks, Pie leaned back and stared down into Florrie’s pale face.
“Are you alright?”
Florrie stared up at him. Something sharp was stabbing into her back and she had landed on her bottom when Pie dragged her over to the wall but, other than that she was blissfully alive. The reality of her situation began to dawn on her and she suddenly felt blessed. She tentatively took a hold of the hand Pie held out to her, and gasped at the speed in which he hauled her to her feet.
She turned and stared over the wall at the noise. There, lying in the middle of the main driveway was a man who was cursing and spitting in anger. Archie was bent over, his hands braced on his knees as he tried to catch his breath. Hugo was tying something around the man’s hands to secure him. She watched as Hugo hauled the gunman, still kicking and cursing, to his feet and dragged him into the church.
“Let’s get you back to Crompton,” Pie sighed, watching as Hugo shoved the man roughly into the church. He wanted to go in and question the man himself but desperately needed to get Florrie out of the open air, and back to the safety of Crompton.
“Not a chance,” Florrie bit out. She threw a defiant look at Pie, and ignored his askance look as she yanked her elbow out of his grasp and marched toward the church. After tonight, she wanted a few answers of her own.
Her bravado wavered a little as she crossed the threshold into the church’s cold interior. She peered through the gloom at the gunman, aware that Pie was standing right behind her.
Jonathan lit a few candles and stood back to stare at the new arrival who was glaring at them belligerently from his awkward position in one of the pews.
“Who pays you?” Hugo demanded, his voice lashed like a whip across the empty space.
“I’m saying nothin’,” the man snarled defiantly.
“You will tell us what we want to know, or I shall personally see to it that you swing from the gallows.”
“I didn’t hurt her, she is right there.” The man nodded once toward Florrie.
“You attempted to kill her,” Hugo snapped.
Pie moved Florrie closer to Jonathan and turned toward their captive.
“What’s your business with her?” Pie’s voice was softly menacing. He bent down and placed his hands on his knees so he could maintain direct eye contact with the restrained man.
Silence settled over them for a minute. The man looked from one person to the next before his gaze landed on Florrie. She felt her skin crawl with the coldly calculating look he swept over her. Pie slammed his fist down on the pew beside the man, drawing his attention back to the question with a jolt.
“Who?” His voice was harsh and loud in the night air.
“Look, I was told not to hurt her, just scare her,” the man stammered, clearly aware that he was outnumbered and not going anywhere until he had told them what they wanted to know. The threat of violence shimmered in the tense atmosphere and made the gunman shiver in alarm.
“Scare her?” Pie’s gaze was mercilessly direct.
“I was told to scare her, that’s all.”
“You damned well nearly killed her man!” Pie bellowed, his face inches from the man’s. “You actually ran over her with the bloody carriage you idiot.”
“What?” The man turned to look at Florrie in confusion. “I didn’t run over her.”
“What?”
“Whoever ran over her, it wasn’t me,” the man protested, casting a frantic glance around the church in hopes of absolution.
“You were told to scare her, so you shot at her.”
“I was told to shoot at her, but not hit her.”
“What about running her over with a carriage? I suppose that was supposed to be a near-miss that went wrong.” Pie’s voice was derisory.
“Look, I didn’t drive any carriage. It wasn’t me.” The man threw a wild glance around him before his frantic gaze landed on Hugo. “I didn’t. It wasn’t me.”
“Who is your boss?” Hugo rapped out.
The man clammed up and returned to being belligerent.
“Who?” Pie bellowed.
Florrie’s head turned this way and that. Hugo and Pie were relentless, and the man was clearly panicked at the intensity of the questions being fired at him. She was amazed with what was happening before her very eyes. She daren’t move; daren’t say anything in case they realised she was there and told her to leave. She wanted, no needed. to know who was trying to kill her, or frighten her at least.
“I just know him as Dexter,” the man replied in a quiet voice. “I don’t know nothing about him so don’t ask and that’s the honest truth. I was in the tavern in Brockington when he appeared and started asking the bar keep if anyone wanted a little work. I said yes. He told me that under no circumstances was I to hurt you but he wanted you scaring. He told me to come here tonight and shoot the gun around you but make sure I didn’t hit you.”
“Have you been paid yet?”
The man shook his head. “I had a bit of it but was told I would get paid the rest when the job was done.”
Pie’s gaze flickered to Hugo.
“Were you to take him the money when the job was done?”
The man looked puzzled. It was such an instinctive action that Pie knew it was an honest emotion. The man had no idea about the coins Florrie was told to deliver.
“You weren’t told to pick up a pouch?”
The gunman shook his head. “No. The man, Dexter, said that I was to shoot at her and wait until she had left. I am to meet him tomorrow at the tavern in Brockington for the rest of my money. He is staying at the tavern.”
Pie sighed and seemed to realise for the first time that Florrie was still there.
Florrie hesitantly stepped forward. “Did he, erm
, Dexter, give you the name of your target?” Her voice was soft and quivered with nerves. She wasn’t sure if the man was going to spit or throw a volley of curses at her, but instead he merely stared at her and shook his head.
“He just said someone in a cloak, a woman, was going to be in the churchyard and I was to shoot at her and scare her away. When she had got back to the house, I was free to go and would earn myself a pretty penny for the work.”
“You weren’t ordered to run her over?”
The man looked dubious and shook his head. “I wouldn’t do that anyway. I don’t mind doing a bit of questionable work for anyone, but I am not going to swing for it.” His eyes flew to Hugo’s. “Am I?” His eyes grew wide and he waited nervously for his answer.
“I think you made a big mistake when you accepted this ‘work’ as you call it. You are going to stay with us tonight and tomorrow we are going to pay a visit to this tavern to meet your man Dexter. Once we have met him, if he corroborates your story, then, and only then, you will be free to leave.” Hugo drawled and moved closer to the man, leaning over him menacingly. “Only I will warn you here and now that if I ever hear of you doing anything illegal again, I will build the bloody scaffold tower myself. Do you understand?” He watched the man nod jerkily.
“Why would Dexter want to scare me?” Florrie asked. She stood back and watched Pie close the church door behind them encasing them in darkness so thick that she could barely see her hand in front of her face.
“I don’t know. It doesn’t make sense,” Pie scowled. She looked like an avenging angel wrapped in a huge cloak with the hood pulled up. The dark curls that surrounded her face made her complexion seemed almost ghostlike, yet there was still a feminine grace about her that captivated him. He wanted to touch her just to see if she was real. Once again, when she had faced personal trauma, she had taken it in her stride rather than wilting and wailing like most females would do. It left him feeling immensely proud of her.