Deep, sickening dread filled Vice’s chest as he pulled back. Grace was nowhere to be seen, Jack lay in a crumpled ball on the ground, Emily perched over him. What the bloody hell had just happened?
“Grace?” Ada shrieked, finally breaking free of him and running toward Emily. She stopped, searching the street then swung back around to him. “We have to find her!”
Vice rushed to her side, but bent down over his friend. “Jack?” He knew she was right but he had to check on his friend first. He couldn’t just leave him to die in the street.
Jack rolled over, blood oozing from his arm. “Went straight through. I’ll be all right.”
Emily pulled up her skirts and began to rip out sections of petticoat then wrapped them about his arm. “Oh my love,” she said in a trembling voice. “I’m so sorry. I should have come home last night. I—”
“Emily,” he whispered. “This is my fault.”
Ada tugged on Vice’s sleeve. “Which way did Grace go?”
“That way,” Jack pointed. “A man with a scarred face carried he
r off into a large carriage.” He let out a low groan as he sat up. “It had a distinctive pattern on it of carved horses.”
Vice grimaced. How would they find her now? He knew the man who’d taken her was Crusher. Of course Abernath had sent her newest lackey. But he wouldn’t just take her back to his club.
Ada grabbed his arm, pulling him toward the carriage. He blinked, realizing she was right. “We have to go now,” she said.
“What’s happened?” Bad suddenly stood in front of him.
“Get in the carriage,” he said, practically tossing Ada in as well, “I’ll explain on the way.” Then he turned back to Emily. “Can you handle Jack?”
Emily nodded. “Our doctor’s office is just across the street. I’ll take care of him.”
Bad climbed in the vehicle and Vice in just after him. “Head down Faulk Street. We’re looking for a carriage with carved horses.”
“Yes, my lord,” the driver called back.
Vice closed the door as the carriage started down the lane.
“What happened?” Bad asked again. “Where is Grace?”
“Gone,” Ada said, her voice quivering.
“Gone?” The color drained from his face. “What do you mean gone?”
“Crusher,” Vice answered, his own stomach pitching. “At least, I think. Jack said he saw a man with scars all over his face grab her.”
“And you said a carriage with horses carved in it?” Bad slammed his fist into the wood frame. “That’s Crusher all right. He’s ridiculously proud of that carriage. Bought it from an indebted marquess years ago.”
Vice inwardly winced as he assessed Bad. His face twisted in pain, his skin pale and his brow set low. “That’s good. We’ll recognize the carriage.”
Bad hit the side of the vehicle again. “I shouldn’t have left her.”
Vice looked to Ada as she stared down at her clasped hands. He watched as a tear ran down her face, sliding from her dark lashes over her cheek as it wet several of her freckles. She drew in a ragged breath. “I told her not to come out today.”
“Hey,” the driver called. “You see a carriage with horses carved on it?”
“Just went over the London Bridge,” A man yelled back.
“London Bridge?” Vice furrowed his brow.
Bad stood from his seat, swinging open the door. “I’m going up front with the driver. I’ll be able to spot the carriage better.”
“Now?” Ada’s head snapped up. “While the carriage is moving?”