Cold Comfort (A New Adventure Begins - Star Elite 5)

Oliver saw Rupert’s eyes flash with temper, and smirked. It was quite clear that Rupert hadn’t thought of that.

“You are extorting large sums of money out of weak-minded bastards. One of them will talk just to keep their money in their purses,” Oliver warned.

He didn’t wait for Rupert to issue any more threats or insults. Oliver slammed a fist into the guard who appeared in his path and made his way down the corridor and through the kitchen at the back of the house. Seconds later, he stepped, relatively unchallenged, out into the night air. A part of him half expected to hear a gunshot and feel pain in his backside. But it was eerily quiet behind him, and that was almost more disturbing than if he had been accosted by yet more thugs.

Once outside, he sauntered casually down the centre of the main driveway. He knew his colleagues were on watch somewhere, but most probably had only seen the carriage arrive at the back door with no idea who was inside it. He suspected they wouldn’t have seen him being dragged into the building given how dark it was. Oliver hoped not in any case because he didn’t want his colleagues trying to break him free right now. Not until the Star Elite had sat down and planned what they were going to do next.

“First, I have to get Emmeline out of that house, and fast, before Smidgley follows through with his threat.” What Oliver hated more than anything else was the thought that Smidgley might already have snatched Emmeline as easily as he had snatched him. “At least we know how they do it now.”

Despite desperation clawing at him, Oliver kept his pace at a steady amble all the way down the drive. It was only when he turned out of sight of the main house that he broke into a run.

“Miss, you have to come with us,” the man insisted, his voice gruff laden with annoyance.

Emmeline frowned at him. “I am sorry, but I am going nowhere with you. Now get out of my house.”

She glared at the man and eyed the coat-rack beside the door, more importantly the walking sticks her father used to use that were tucked inside it. She wished she was close enough to be able to lift one out of the holder, but if she stepped toward it, she would be uncomfortably close to the buffoon who was insisting that she leave the house with him.

“I am not going anywhere. Where is Oliver? Why has he not come to see me himself?”

Emmeline didn’t know why, but there was something about her latest guest that was decidedly different to Oliver and the two men who had appeared at her door this morning. Oliver and his friends had been polite and courteous toward her. This thug was harsh and cruel and didn’t seem to know what manners meant. Gut instinct warned her that she shouldn’t leave the house with him, no matter what he said or who he claimed to be.

“He is busy right now,” the man muttered with little interest in anything other than getting her out of the house whether she wanted to go or not. “He said you were to go to him. He wants to see you.”

The huge, thick set man pointed a stubby finger at a large black carriage sitting at the end of her gate. Emmeline eyed it with little enthusiasm. To her, it looked sinister, like something that would bring about her doom. Because of it, she glared dismissively at her unwanted intruder.

The way he practically barged into the house is something I know neither Oliver nor his friends would do. They had waited to be invited in, or at least asked before they stepped into the house. This man barges, pushes, and wouldn’t have any qualms about manhandling me out of the house if he needs to.

Emmeline hoped he wasn’t with them any case because if this thug was connected to the War Office, she was going to seriously reconsider her association with Oliver and could only see his failure to return to see her as a blessing in disguise.

I was a fool to agree so readily in the first place, and all because he kissed me.

“You have to come with me,” the man insisted angrily. “You have a choice, you can either walk or I am going to carry you, but you are coming whether you like it or not.”

While the man made a credible attempt to try to sound posher than he really was, there was a faint hint of London’s East End in his tone that made the small hairs on the back of Emmeline’s neck stand on end.

“Who sent you again?” Emmeline wracked her brain for the names of the men who had arrived this morning looking for Oliver. “Oscar, did you say?” She knew it was a lie and watched the man hesitate.

“Aye, that’s the one.”

“Oscar?”

“Yes. Him. Me. That’s my name.”

Emmeline nodded and went cold inside. She knew then that this man was linked to Caroline or, rather, the people who had killed her. The thought made her feel slightly sick, and incredibly vulnerable, yet more determined than ever to stand her ground and do whatever she had to do to stay alive.

“You are to come with me, I tell you,” the man snarled, all pretence of civility gone.

Emmeline gasped and jumped back when he made a grab for her. She swatted at him and continued to back away when he lunged toward her once more. Being lighter and smaller in stature, Emmeline was able to move considerably faster than the great oaf who blundered about, bouncing into the walls of her hallway before stumbling into the narrow hall table at his hip.

“Get out of my house. I said no,” Emmeline cried loudly. She eyed the front garden visible over his shoulder but knew that would provide no refuge given the carriage was waiting for her at the end of it. The only chance she had of evading the buffoon was by going through the back door.

Twirling around on one booted heel, Emmeline bolted for the back door. She paused, but only to slam the door behind her. She barely made it to the back door when the hallway door burst open, and the thug stumbled into the kitchen. Emmeline’s escape was thwarted but not by the thug, but by her own efforts to keep her safe. She wasn’t fast enough to slide the bolt back and turn the key in the lock before the oaf lunged toward her.

Emmeline screamed when his fingers tugged the skirt of her dress. She whirled away and put the length of the kitchen table between them. Swiftly, she slid open the drawer in the end of the table and removed a large knife, which she held aloft.

“Come anywhere near me and you are going to be wearing this. I mean it,” she snarled coldly waving her weapon in a shaking hand. The man ignored her and began to edge around the table. “Stay away from me. I am not afraid to use it. Get out of my house. Whatever you want you are not going to get it from me.”

“I am not here to hurt you, missy, but you are going to come with me,” the man huffed.