The Man Who Hated Ned O'Leary (Dig Two Graves 2)

Despite Ned’s anger, Cole felt warmth in his chest as he gently put the cuffs around his thick wrists. Unable to help himself, he stroked the back of Ned’s hand with his thumb, smoothing the coarse auburn hairs growing there.

“I won’t. I’m not done with you yet.”

“No? It’s not enough that you crushed me? You have to grind me down as well?” Ned said grimly but started walking down the corridor.

Cole swallowed all answers that came to his mind. That he was sorry. And that he needed Ned to have faith in him this one last time, but once they stepped over the fallen policeman and started their climb to the main room, his attention settled on immediate danger.

“Stay quiet. And follow my lead,” he mumbled, already smelling the odor of piss. One of the prisoners locked up close to the basement entrance must have relieved himself, which seemed like the perfect stink to accompany this mad getaway.

It was very quiet upstairs, but when Cole didn’t notice anyone walking around, he steered Ned along one of the side walls, hoping the guard would be too preoccupied with his novel to notice who’d accompanied Cole upstairs. The broad back felt warm against Cole’s palm, and its steadiness was all the encouragement he needed to trudge on.

Each step made his legs heavier, and his heart rattled ever louder, as if to warn him of impending doom, but Cole’s focus was on getting Ned out. Palms sweaty, gaze darting from side to side, wary of potential threats, he led the way through the station that might as well have been a pit filled with tarantulas.

The hair at his nape bristled when he noticed movement at the guard’s desk, but the man didn’t bother to look up and just waved at him.

But they weren’t out of the woods yet. He and Ned might still end up noticed by the officer at the front desk, or any of the other lawmen passing through on the way to their duties, but as Cole planned his escape, the main doors to the station opened, letting in two men who shouted about a stolen wallet.

Relief was like sweetened milk pooling in Cole’s stomach, but just as he was about to nudge Ned toward the exit, a door on the other side of the front desk opened, and a loud voice echoed under the high ceiling of the station, drilling into his skull.

“Where are you taking O’Leary?”

“Run,” Cole said, and Ned bolted without prompting, bursting out onto the sunlit street. The cuffs, which had only rested on his wrists, clattered as they fell to the steps, and Cole picked them up, looking back in time to see U.S. Marshall Thaddeus Craig sprinting toward him like a mountain lion about to eat him alive.

But Cole was a wolf, and he would not let another predator steal his prey.

He kicked the door shut and closed the handcuffs on the brass pull handles, as if they were thin wrists.

The man on the other side hit the wood with the full force of his weight, but the shackles wouldn’t give.

“Stop them! Stop those men!” Craig yelled from inside, once again making the doors budge ever-so-slightly.

An alarm bell rang out along with several loud whistles farther along the street, but Cole’s focus was on reaching Carol and making sure Ned kept up with him.

“Follow me. To the park,” he said, but before he could have reached the alley that would lead them to his horse, a gate close by swung open, and police officers spilled into the streets like ants armed with batons and guns.

He could have calculated their escape better. With the lawmen cutting them off from Carol, they couldn’t ride straight to the Crying House and wait out the manhunt there. But he would get Ned to safety, if it was the last thing he’d do.

“Goddamn it,” Cole uttered and grabbed Ned by the arm, pulling him into the crowd of passers-by.

They knocked over a woman in a pale dress, and she descended into the mud with a cry of such anguish one might have thought her baby had just died. As far as Cole was concerned, it was better if she lost her pretty gown than for Ned to lose his head.

They ran across the street and into a passage too narrow for two men to cross arm-in arm, but the hunting dogs were still at their heels. With his plan ripped to shreds, Cole blindly dashed through the first open door in sight.

Chapter 27

Cole’s legs burned from the speed at which he climbed the dark staircase inside the tenement building. The air was dense with the odor of cauliflower cooking in one of the apartments, but when the door at the very bottom of the stairs burst open, letting in the bloodhounds in uniforms, he dashed up even faster, all the way to the top floor.