Tobias sucked in a sharp breath.
There was only murderer that killed his victims with that much violence. Only one murderer that had painted the streets of London red with blood. Only one murderer that had taken what was most precious away from him.
“You think it was The Slasher, don’t you?” he said as his skin went cold.
“I think it could be him,” Owen corrected, watching Tobias carefully. “He’s never killed a man before. At least not one that we know of. Women, particularly women of ill-repute, have traditionally been his victims of choice. But the other similarities between this murder and the others can’t be ignored. Which is why I want you as far away from this case as possible.”
“No.” This was the break Tobias had been waiting for, and his eyes burned black as he leapt out of his chair. “With all due respect, Captain, there’s no bluidy way I’m sitting this one out. That bastard is mine.”
“You will remain out of the investigation or you’ll find yourself out of Bow Street. That isn’t a threat.” Owen flattened his hands on his desk. “That’s a promise.”
Tobias looked to Hargrave for support, but his fellow Runner just shook his head.
“Sorry mate. I agree with the captain. You’re too close to this, Kent. It’s tearing you apart from the inside out. Let someone else handle it.”
A wave of red obscured Tobias’ vision. “Someone else?” he growled, more animal than man as he brought his fists up and slammed them down on Owen’s desk. Papers flew in the air. “Someone else didn’t bury their wife! Someone else didn’t have the only person that mattered on this miserable earth stolen from them. He took my Hannah from me. He took her. Can’t ye see that?” he said desperately, looking back and forth between Owen and Grant.
“I’m sorry, Kent.” The captain’s eyes filled with apology even as his voice remained firm. “But my answer remains the same.”
There was no holding the madness back any longer. It swelled up and spilled over Tobias like a wave, dragging him down beneath its dark watery depths to a place he’d never dared venture. Half crazed, he lunged at Owen with his arms outstretched, but before he could close his hands around the captain’s throat Grant grabbed him by the waist and hauled him back.
“There’ll be none of that,” he grunted, ducking to the left as Tobias swung wildly at his head. With a vicious snarl Tobias brought back his fist and plowed it into Grant’s ribs. Grant retaliated with a quick punch to his jaw that snapped his head back and as quickly as the fight had started it broke apart.
“To hell with this.” His chest heaving as he staggered back, Tobias glared first at Hargrave, then at Owen. “And to hell with both of you!” Throwing open the door with such brute force it struck the wall and splintered down the middle, he stormed out of the room.
In the silence that followed Tobias’ sudden departure, Owen looked solemnly at Grant. “No matter what happens, I want Kent to stay out of this investigation.”
“Are you certain?” Shaken by the depths of his friend’s rage, Grant gripped the back of his chair, knuckles leached of blood. “Maybe he’s right. His wife was one of the Slasher’s victims, and whether we like it or not he is a part of this.”
“Yes,” Owen murmured, his brow creasing. “But how big of a part?”
“What do you mean?” Grant asked.
“Kent can’t be a part of the investigation because right now he’s our number one suspect.”
“But you told him–”
“I know what I bloody well told him.” Scowling, Owen stood up and went to the window. “Do you think I like lying to one of my men? Well, I like suspecting them of murder even less.” He turned, his emotions concealed save a tiny muscle pulsing on the side of his neck. “An earl doesn’t fit the Slasher’s profile. But it fits Kent’s. He had a reason to want Reinhold dead. Hell, he almost killed him at the ball.”
“But his clothes. You said yourself they would have been covered in blood.”
“And they would have been,” Owen agreed, “unless he had the foresight to change them first. You heard him. He has no memory of last night. There’s no telling what he did – or didn’t – do.”
“Lack of memory doesn’t make him a murderer,” Grant pointed out.
“No. But it doesn’t make him innocent, either. The poor man’s not in his right mind. Anyone can see that. And men not in their right minds can do terrible things.” Owen rubbed a hand down his face. “I want you to watch him. Carefully. If he does anything suspicious, anything at all, I want him locked up.”
“Captain–”
“That’s an order.”
“Aye,” Grant said stiffly.
“I also believe it goes without saying that your wife’s plan, however well-intentioned, will have to be put on hold until this mess sorts itself out. The last thing we need is another complication.”
“I concur,” said Grant, even though he knew Juliet wouldn’t be of the same mind. She was eager to put Kent and Lady Amelia together as, in her own words, ‘a woman solves everything’. Grant agreed, but having just witnessed the explosiveness of his friend’s temper firsthand he was reluctant to put a duke’s daughter – or any daughter, for that matter – in harm’s way.
Once Kent was seeing straight, and his innocence had been proven, and the Slasher was where he belonged (either dead or in Newgate, Grant didn’t have much of a preference), then a romantic relationship could be encouraged. To do so beforehand would not only be reckless, it would be dangerous.
Although if there was one thing he’d learned as a Runner…it was that women and danger often went hand in hand.
Chapter Nine
Why couldn’t he remember? If he could just remember, all of the fear and the doubt would go away. If he could just remember, then he wouldn’t have to label himself a murderer. Because he hadn’t killed Lord Reinhold. The captain had said as much himself. And yet the doubt still lingered, hanging above Tobias’ head like a storm cloud as he walked blindly through the streets with no destination in mind other than to keep moving. As if by doing so he might somehow outrun the demons that chased him.
Bluidy hell, he’d tried to attack Owen. He did attack Grant, the only man who had any faith left in him. The only man he could call a true friend. He’d pushed everyone else aside. Even his own parents. His brothers and sisters. Grant was all he had left, and he’d just punched him in the gut.
Without looking, Tobias stepped off the pavement and into the busy road. Men cursed and shook their fists as they yanked up their horses to avoid striking him, but he just kept going, head lowered, teeth clenched, a part of him wanting to be struck down if only to end the pain and the grief and the anger once and for all.
Because he couldn’t keep going like this. Sooner or later, something was going to have to give. Sooner or later, the darkness was going to get loose. And when it did…when it did Tobias feared there wasn’t going to be enough of him left to control it.
He’d nearly reached the other side of the street when a gleaming black carriage, moving faster than all the rest, veered sharply to the right to avoid a plodding team of oxen pulling a heavy cart. The driver saw Tobias too late, and even though he pulled up on the reins as hard as he could there was no stopping the forward momentum of the heavy curricle. Time seemed to slow as it careened towards Tobias, an obsidian bringer of death with four deadly hooves that could crack a man’s bones into kindling.
He saw the white flash of the horse’s eyes and the red flare of its nostrils as it threw back its head and released an awful, screeching whinny. He heard the jingle of the harness and the wheels banging along the cobblestones. He saw spittle fly from between the driver’s lips as he shouted at Tobias to get out of the way. He heard his own heartbeat roaring in his ears. He braced himself, preparing for the worst…and then, inexplicably, he smelled lavender.
His shoulder took the worst of the fall as he lunged out of the way at the last possible second. Stunned, he rolled onto his back, arms stretc
hed limply out to either side as he stared up at the clear blue sky and wondered if he was dead or alive.
Dead, he decided dazedly when Lady Amelia Tattershall suddenly appeared above him.
Definitely dead.
A halo of sunlight surrounded her head, illuminating her golden curls and the delicate pink flush in her cheeks. Like an angel sent from above her eyes were the same rich color as the sky, and even though he didn’t deserve her, or heaven, he was grateful her likeness had been sent to usher him to judgement if only because it meant he was able to see her beautiful face one last time.
Then she kicked him.
Hard.
And he began to suspect he wasn’t quite as deceased as he’d first believed.
“Ouch,” he grumbled before lifting his head to glare at her. “That hurt.”
“Good.” Without hesitation she brought back her pointy little shoe and kicked him again.
“Bugger me.” Wincing, Tobias rolled onto his side and staggered to his feet, clutching his shoulder. It throbbed as if it had been struck by a bullet. “You’re the worst angel I’ve ever met.”
Those heavenly blue eyes narrowed. “I’ll take that as a compliment. Now get in the carriage.”
“No.”
“Get in the carriage,” she repeated, “or I’ll have my driver throw you in.”
Tobias snorted. “He can try.”
Bluidy hell, but it felt good to see her again. Like stepping out into the sun after a long night trapped in the shadows. And even though Amelia was angry – quite angry, if the flash of temper in her gaze was any indication – he could feel the darkness draining out of him just by standing in her light.
“Ye look lovely,” he said quietly.
“You look terrible,” she retorted.
Despite the heaviness that weighed on his soul, Tobias found himself grinning. “You’ve never been one to mince your words, have ye Duchess?”
“No, and I’m certainly not about to start now.” Then her voice softened, and her eyes, framed with thick lashes several shades darker than the honey blonde curls peeping out from beneath her wide brimmed bonnet, turned beseeching. “Get in the carriage, Kent. Please.”
When she asked him like that, how could he refuse her?
The driver, face pinched in a scowl, watched as Tobias pulled off his hat and climbed up into the curricle. His entire frame filling the doorway, he reached out for Amelia’s hand and without hesitation she gave it to him, her gloved fingers aligning perfectly with his.
The air seemed to crackle with electricity as their gazes locked, crystal blue against deep dark amber, and he knew they were both thinking about the last time they’d been in an enclosed space together by the pretty pink blush that spread across her arching cheekbones.
“My hand,” she said quietly, and with great reluctance Kent softened his grip and her fingers slipped away. She sat across from him in a graceful swirl of pale green muslin, and it wasn’t until he’d reclined back in his own seat that he noticed the older woman fast asleep in the corner, head slumped against the window and mouth wide open.
“That’s dear Aunt Constance,” Amelia explained when he blinked to ensure he wasn’t hallucinating. “She’s very fond of her naps.” Her lips curved in an impish little smile. “Which makes her the perfect chaperone.”
Tobias imagined it did. Not that it mattered. Because he wasn’t going to do anything a chaperone would disapprove of.
He certainly wasn’t going to kiss Amelia again. Nor was he going to nibble the one little spot on her neck that made her moan. And he definitely wasn’t going to cup her breasts and slide his thumbs across her nipples...
Ye made yourself a promise, he reminded himself sternly.
Even though, at that exact moment, he couldn’t remember what the promise was…or why the devil he’d made it in the first place.
“What do you want?” he asked guardedly as the carriage began to move.
Amelia crossed her hands over her lap and fixed him with a piercing stare. “I want to know why you keep throwing yourself in front of carriages. Particularly mine.” Her head canted to the side. “Do you have a death wish, Mr. Kent?”
Yes, he did.
But not in the way she thought.
“I was distracted,” he grunted. “Wasn’t looking where I was going.”
“That much was readily apparent.” Still, she looked unconvinced and her eyes narrowed when she saw the bruise, courtesy of Grant’s fist, that discolored the side of his jaw. “What happened?”
“You’re asking a lot of bluidy questions this morning, aren’t you?”
“What happened?” she repeated, unfazed by his surly tone. Beside her Aunt Constance let out of a loud snore, closed her mouth, and promptly went back to sleep. “Were you in a fight?”
Tobias leaned back and spread his thighs apart. Inside the velvet lined carriage there was ample room to stretch out, yet there was only one place he wanted to be. Right next to Amelia. He gritted his teeth. Most people would say distance made the heart grow fonder, but in this case it was making his cock grow harder and there was shite all he could do about it.
“I suppose your line of work is very dangerous,” she continued when he remained silent, all of his concentration having gone to disguising his erection. “What made you want to become a Runner?”
No one had asked him that question in a very long time, and Tobias was surprised to discover the pain that used to be associated with it had faded considerably. Now instead of a sharp, piercing stake through the heart he felt only a dull, residual ache. As if he’d woken up on the wrong side of the bed after a long night of drinking. Or, as was the case this morning, on the wrong side of the fish barrel.
“Someone close to me was hurt.” He met her gaze. “I wanted to do something about it.”
“I’m sorry,” she said softly.
“It happened a long time ago,” he said, not wanting – or needing – her sympathy. Flinching when she reached across the space that divided them to place her hand on his knee, he resisted the urge to push her arm away. He wasn’t accustomed to being comforted. Kindness and empathy were as foreign to him as another language, and just as difficult to understand. Why would anyone – especially someone as beautiful as Amelia – want to show him compassion? He’d done nothing to earn her trust. Yet she looked at him as if he were worthy of such an honor. As if he were more than a lost cause hell bent on self-destruction. As if he actually meant something.
But that couldn’t be true, because if he meant something to her then it would mean she meant something to him. And Tobias knew better than most how easily meaningful things could be broken.
“Yes, but I can see it still pains you.” She gave his leg a gentle squeeze, then sat back. “It must be rewarding, to know that you’re helping people. That you’re changing lives for the better.”
His mouth twisted in a humorless smile. “I’m a thief taker with a fancy title, Duchess. Nothing more.”
“Well I think it’s a noble profession.”
“Think whatever ye like,” he said curtly before glancing out the window. They’d left the crowded streets behind and were now meandering through the park down a narrow bridle-path. An idle pursuit, to travel without a destination in mind. And one he had no time for. His expression guarded, he looked back at Amelia. “What do ye want, Duchess?”
“What do I want?” she echoed, feigning confusion at the simple question.
Or maybe it wasn’t so simple.
It might have been, Kent reflected, if he hadn’t kissed her. If he hadn’t tasted all the sultry secrets her mouth had to offer then they would have parted ways as strangers. He’d be nothing more than the man her carriage almost ran over, and she…she would be the alluring vixen he thought of kissing but never did.
But he had kissed her, and she’d kissed him back, and therein laid the problem.
A problem he had no bloody idea how to fix.
Or how to forget.
&nbs
p; Mindful of Aunt Constance – even if she was snoring loud enough to raise the dead – he chose his words carefully. “What I said by the bridge still stands. We shouldn’t have done what we did, and it won’t happen again.”
Amelia lifted a brow. “Then why did you do it?”
“Why did I do what?” he said warily.
There was no way she could know about Lord Reinhold. Not yet. And even if she had somehow heard the news, she’d have no reason to suspect that he was the one who had done it. That he was the one who had killed him. Except she’d been there. She’d been standing two feet away when he attacked the earl like a feral dog. She’d been the one who pulled him off. Who kept him from strangling Reinhold with his bare hands. She’d born witness to his rage. To the darkness simmering inside of him, trying to claw its way out. She knew what he was capable of. She knew the violence that lived inside of him.
But did she know she was the only one who could control it?
Three words and she’d brought him back from the brink of madness. Look at me, she’d said, and when he had all of his demons fell silent. The moment he met those soft blue eyes he felt peace. Not just around him, but inside of him. Peace the likes of which he hadn’t experienced since before Hannah died.
And there it was, he thought with a bitter twist of his lips.
The real reason why they couldn’t be together.
The real reason why he couldn’t kiss her.
The real reason why he had to stay away.
Not because she was practically royalty and he was as common born as they came (although that certainly didn’t help matters). But because when he was with her the fury that fed his desire for revenge fell silent. And without that anger, without that rage burning away inside of him, how was he supposed to do what needed to be done?
Amelia took away his focus. She made him feel. And that…that he could not allow.
“Why did you get in the carriage?” She leaned forward and his gaze was automatically drawn to her lace-trimmed bodice where the creamy tops of her breasts threatened to spill out of the thin fabric. “If we shouldn’t have done what we did and if you truly want me to forget about you, then why did you get in the carriage?”
A Dangerous Temptation (Bow Street Brides Book 5) Page 11