CHAPTER 14
Border of Somerset and Wiltshire
The sound of thunder rumbled with unrelenting force. Soon, the rain would fall again. They rode, hard and fast for most of the day. When she saw gray smoke rising from the stone chimney and faint light spilling out from the windows of the coaching inn in the distance, a great sense of relief washed over her.
She was thankful that at least the other passengers, the driver, and the guard were safe and had been deposited at their last coaching inn to change out the horses. There, Michael had procured a private carriage for them to travel on.
Their prisoner was on a rear horse of a team of four, while Michael steered with his pistol at the ready. The frequent rainstorms made it quite difficult for speed and she sensed Michael’s impatience growing by the hour. When she asked to stop, to rest for Michael’s sake and health, he insisted they press on as long as the horses weren’t done in.
When the carriage came to a full stop, she stepped out, looked at the quaint inn before her and smiled. A hot meal and food in her belly should renew her spirit. Michael hopped off the driver’s seat and then proceeded to drag the prisoner off the horse, where he landed hard on the muddy ground.
“Horses are done in,” Michael said. “We’ll have to rest here for the night until day break, then we should head out again in the early morning. Go inside and get a room. I’ll join you later.”
She looked at the prisoner bruised and barely able to sit up, then at Michael. “What do you intend to do with him?”
“I’m going to put him in a secure location.”
Even as he answered her, she knew he wasn’t telling her everything.
Michael walked up to the prisoner and forced him up. “Go inside and get warm. I’ll join you later.” He reassured her with a forced grin.
Did that mean he’d beat him to a pulp again? The prisoner already looked fragile and wouldn’t survive another fight. Michael walked away from her toward the stable with the prisoner in tow. A sense of melancholy gripped her again and she prayed for his safety.
Emma quickly stepped inside and saw the hot crackling fire in the large stone hearth near the counter. Pulling off her gloves she extended her hands and approached the fireplace, allowing the heat to warm her hands; to melt away the layer of melancholy that loomed over her today. She sat down on a wooden chair facing the fire and winced. Her bottom ached from the carriage ride. Several minutes later after she’d warmed up, she approached the inn keeper at the counter to pay for the room, along with two dinners to be brought up.
All the while, a nagging question troubled her. Why had Michael kept the location of their destination a secret still? Why had Michael mentioned her surname to the prisoner? There could only be one reason why and that stung her with resentment, sending hot pin pricks of tears behind her eyes, but she held it at bay and walked up the stairs to her room.
* * *
Michael bound the prisoner’s hands with chain and positioned him on the sliding door of the last stall in the barn. Then he proceeded to tie the captive’s legs with another chain he procured from a stable boy.
When he was satisfied, he paid the stable boy a few coins to fetch dinner. Then he found a comfortable spot on the bale of hay and sat down. More than anything he was glad Roberts and Brandon were at Chatham Hall to watch over his family. They were both capable men and he trusted them to get the job done and keep his family safe.
“Why bother feeding me?”
Michael’s brows arched, mulling over what the criminal said. He didn’t intend to feed him if he wasn’t going to earn it, not that he deserved to live. “I thought perhaps you deserved one last meal before you rot in hell.” He saw the look of defeat in the man’s eyes. “That is when you answer my questions.”
The prisoner spat at him.
He pulled out the knife he’d taken from the prisoner and started to wipe the blade with a handkerchief. For several minutes, the prisoner glared at him, but said nothing. Let’s see how long you last. The bastard hadn’t had a meal in two days and he had to be famished by now. Hunger had a strange way of breaking one’s soul. It beat you down and made one do ungodly things.
“Suit yourself.” Michael leaned back on the wall and whistled a tune while waiting for the stable boy to return with the food.
Soon, the stable boy brought a plate full of roast beef, hot dinner rolls and a jug of beer. A loud growl rumbled in his stomach. Michael instructed the boy to place the plate of food on a wooden table nearby. When he obliged, Michael tossed the boy another shiny coin before he happily scurried off to finish his tasks.
Michael ripped off a piece of hot bread and ate it. He then proceeded to use the knife he’d just cleaned to slowly cut off a large piece of meat and popped it in his mouth. “Delicious.”
“Pig,” his prisoner barked.
“When I turn you over to my men tomorrow, they’re not going to bother locking you up at Newgate; instead, they will escort you to an undisclosed location, strip you down and torture you until they get what they want. Your choice. When you’re ready, do let me know,” Michael said, then sat down and started to take his dinner in front of the captive again. He stabbed the meat with his fork, slowly cut off a large piece of roast beef, and took a bite.
The American’s bloody face contorted in angry defeat. Michael hoped to God he was ready to talk. Traveling in this condition with a prisoner and Emma by his side was taking a toll on him mentally and physically. He was tired and every muscle in his body ached like hell.
When the meat was nearly done, he put his fork down and stood. Stretching his arms and rounding his shoulders, he slowly walked toward the entrance of the barn.
The chains clanked. “Wait,” the prisoner shouted. “You can find Jimmy at Devil’s Horn. East End.”
Slowly walking back, he looked at the prisoner. “Is he the one who ordered the kill?”
“I don’t know who the fuck ordered it. He was my contact. That is all I know.”
The scum’s gaze darted from him to the nearly empty plate. Men like him never revealed all his cards at once. But for now, it would have to do. He called for the stable boy to bring another plate of food for the prisoner.
When the food finally arrived, Michael handed him the plate and the prisoner gobbled up the meat like a starved animal. For now, Michael was satisfied, so he left the stable, instructing the stable boy to watch the cull with a promise of a reward for him in the morning.
When Michael stepped out, he gave a relieved sigh. Finally, something solid to go on. Now, all he needed to do was send instructions to Row in London to find Jimmy, find out what he knows, and keep a close eye on Lord Tomkin.
Looking up toward the darkened sky, the cold rain tapped down on his face cooling his skin. Pulling his collar up to block out the cold, he hunched over and quickened his pace toward the inn.