“No. I wouldn’t. But I would shoot your friend here and tell Mr. Smith I killed a man who was trying to kidnap his wife.”
“No!” She moved forward with her hand out. “Don’t shoot him. I’ll go back.”
“What kind of a man are you, to allow her husband to treat her like this?” Hunter growled.
“A man with a paycheck.” He gestured with the gun one more time. “I will do you a favor, though, and not tell Mr. Smith about this little visit we had.” He added, “As long as it doesn’t happen again.”
Emily’s shoulders slumped and she turned toward Hunter. He pulled her to his body and held her close. “Tuesday at the dressmaker’s,” he whispered in her ear.
She nodded. Wrapping her coat tightly around her body, she returned to the prison that was her life.
Chapter 14
Hunter banged the steering wheel with his fist.
Damn. So close.
Had he known Martin was so determined to do his job that he carried a gun, his plan would have been much different. It had been a difficult lesson, but now he knew.
He could have easily taken the man down, but he wouldn’t allow the chance that Emily might be hurt. And the noise of a scuffle would only bring Louis out, most likely with a gun of his own.
Martin sure as hell wouldn’t shoot the boss’s wife, but she could have accidentally been hit in the process. It was better to make a different plan now that he knew just how determined Louis was on keeping Emily a prisoner.
Filled with frustration and an overdose of guilt at being so poorly prepared, he started the automobile. Another failure to protect those he cared about.
Still dealing with the emotional rush at their near escape, he decided to swing by the hotel and maybe have a drink with Jeremy. See how he was doing with the investigation.
The dining room in the hotel was closed, but the bar was doing a brisk business. Surprised Jeremy wasn’t there, he took the stairs two at a time to the third floor, and knocked on his door. It took a few minutes, but eventually the door swung open.
Jeremy looked like hell. His eyes were bloodshot, he was covered with sweat, and he hadn’t shaved in days. Hunter shoved the door open and his lips tightened as he took in the scene.
The bed was unmade, clothes strewn all over the floor. A scatter of twenty dollar bills had been left carelessly on the bed, and several vials alongside a needle cluttered the top of the dresser.
He brushed past Jeremy and picked up the needle. “I thought you were done with this.”
“I am. I just needed a little bit to sleep.”
“You’re full of shit.” He dropped the needle and rested his hands on his hips. “And you look like shit, too.”
“Nice to see you, too, buddy.”
“It’s not funny, Jer. This stuff will kill you. Don’t you find you need more and more?”
Jeremy held his hand up, palm out. “Hey. Mind your own business. We’re friends, you’re not my mama. I can stop anytime I want to.”
“So stop now.”
“I said ‘when I want to.’ I’m here to help you out, do a job for you. If I fall down on the job, then you can kick my ass.”
Hunter leaned against the dresser and glared at Jeremy. “When was the last time you ate?”
“Breakfast.”
He grabbed Jeremy by the arm. “Come on. The café down the street is still open. I could use some food myself.”
They left the hotel and headed east toward The Harvest Café. It was a small place, mostly frequented by locals rather than tourists. The food was plentiful and good, they were open all hours, and the price just right. Not glamourous in its decorations, but you couldn’t eat wallpaper.
They took a table near the front of the café and ordered sandwiches and coffee. Hunter finished his, but it was obvious Jeremy was forcing himself to eat. He was a grown man and made his own decisions, but it would be worthwhile to keep an eye on his friend since he was counting on him to help get Louis behind bars.