Lace & Lead

Stone looked away from her, attention focused to her left. The other men had gotten Peirce free from the wreckage and were dragging him toward Stone. Peirce was shaking his head and she saw from the flex of his shoulders that the crash had taken more out of him than it had her.

The top half of his armour was mostly gone, splintered off with entire chunks of plate missing...that’s what she’d hit her head on. Him. He’d thrown himself over her. Her eyes welled up and she swallowed quickly to try to hide her reaction.

Fortunately, Stone wasn’t watching her. He was too focused on Peirce.

“Mr. Taggart? My men have shared your fearsome reputation with me. It’s unfortunate we have to meet under these circumstances.”

“Yeah, I’m sure you’re all broken up about it, asshole,” Peirce taunted.

At least his mouth was still working.

Stone motioned with a single finger and one of the goons holding Peirce slammed a knee up into his ribs. Peirce groaned, but didn’t stop. “Can’t say I’m surprised to see you here.”

“And I thought your retreat said otherwise,” Stone responded in a bored tone. “But then, even if the delightful Miss Gregson doesn’t understand the reason for my visit, you’re far too shrewd to have missed that connection.”

“True,” Peirce quipped. “Must hurt to know you could only hire—”

He squinted up at the men holding him up and grinned, his teeth tinged from the blood streaming down his face from a cut on his forehead. “Well, shit. What is this, the fifth string? That you, Lennox?”

One of the men spat on him and Peirce chuckled.

“I thought I recognised you, you son of a bitch.” Now he looked at Stone, eyes going cold. “Like I said, couldn’t afford the big guns?”

Emmaline could see the muscle spasming in Stone’s jaw; his teeth were clenched so tightly.

“That mine snafu must have really set you back.”

Peirce was looking at her, holding her gaze, even as what he said next sunk in.

“It’s not like you have much time left, what with French pox, right? And to lose your only heir because he wasn’t able to keep it in his pants, even during a cave-in? Tough break—”

“Make him quiet,” Stone ordered and the men dropped Peirce, immediately kicking and punching at every exposed part of his body.

She could only watch in horror, finally understanding why her father had been so desperate to hand her over. Why Stone was here right now.

“He was your son?”

“Yes. And, as a little birdie told me once I finished with her, you played a part in his death.” He took a step toward her, eyes flashing with fiendish delight. “I can’t wait to offer Gregson’s virgin daughter up to my customers. What a prize...”

She waited until he was closer and used her captors to hold her in place as she kicked out, catching his knee with her foot. Stone stumbled just a bit and she wrenched in the men’s grasps to break free. But they recovered too quickly and instead she fell hard on her hip, her legs splayed awkwardly beneath her.

“You have fight,” Stone purred. “Good. I’ll make sure the right customer is able to knock that out of you.”

A sharp cry of pain to her left surprised both her and Stone. Peirce’s knife was sticking out of one man’s chest and his arm was tight around the other man’s throat as he scrabbled against the ground. A swift twist, sharp crack and the merc’s limp body fell to the side.

Her captors released her arms and rushed Peirce. She turned to run, but Stone was already there. His fist caught her cheekbone and she hit the ground, pain radiating through her face.

“Stay,” Stone hissed at her. His boot caught her ribs, knocking the air from her lungs and he moved toward Peirce.

His hands moved on his cane and suddenly the wood was sliding away, a thin blade in its place. Busy with the other two men, Peirce had no idea what was coming. And she couldn’t draw enough breath to warn him.

Things had been going well to that point. The first two guards were down. The third was mumbling incoherently on the ground, nose broken, testicles crushed and right arm with a spiral fracture from the way he’d torqued on it. The fourth was going down slower…

Or maybe I’m just moving slower, Peirce mused.

Two kidney punches got the man off his back. He reached for his knife, handle sticking up from Merc #1’s chest. His fingers closed around it—