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Authors: Jillian Stone
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connecting door. A gusty mist of rain whistled through a gaping slice in the canvas bonnet between rail cars. The man lunged with a knife and Rafe leaped away, narrowly avoiding the swipe of the blade. “Stay back, Fanny.”
A forgotten umbrella leaned against the corner compartment. She took it up and followed after the two struggling men, who lost their balance and nearly fell off the coupler bridge. She lifted the umbrella. Rafe recovered his balance and shoved his attacker against the torn curtain, which ripped under the pressure. Fanny swung as Rafe released his assailant. The umbrella caught in the oiled canvas and finished the job. The fabric flapped violently in the face of the attacker gasping for breath. Rafe took a step back and kicked him off the moving train.
A faint shadow passed overhead, distracting her from the spine-chilling shriek of the falling man. “Up above!” she cried and retreated back inside the coach aisle as a second man dropped down on top of Rafe. In the narrow space between cars, punches flying, the brawling combatants rolled from the end of one railcar to the other, each one having a turn at getting his head smashed.
She winced. Holding the umbrella like a cricket bat, she swung it handle first. She smacked the platform inches from Rafe’s head. “Sorry.” She struck again and got in a good whack to the back of his assailant’s head.
“Fanny, get back.”
She struck again and hit the mark. Crack!
“Bollocks.” Rafe wrenched the umbrella from her hands and swiped the wooden handle across the man’s face. Blood poured from a broken nose and his attacker collapsed with a grunt. Rafe clambered to his feet, grabbed the bloke by the collar, and propped the dazed man up on the bridge.
“One more for the road, mate?” Rafe lifted the umbrella for a last bash, but before he could strike, the bloody-nosed thug turned and jumped off the train. Fanny sidled up beside Rafe and leaned out the torn canopy between carriages. After a bone-cracking tumble, the man rolled his way down the embankment.
A strong hand gripped her arm. Rafe foisted her back inside the empty passenger compartment and sat her down roughly. “What did I tell you?”
“Stay inside. But—”
“But nothing, Fanny.” He placed both hands aboveher shoulders and leaned close. “You must do as I say at all times, or I cannot protect you.”
Arms crossed snugly under her chest, she thrust out her lower lip. “It seems to me you were the one sorely in need of defending.” His tie was askew and the front of his jacket had fallen open. A splatter of blood covered his shirt and waistcoat. She worked her way up to meet his stare.
“Are suffragists always so intrepid?”
“I prefer to think of myself as capable.” She raised a brow in defiance.
He slumped onto the opposite seat. “Must have missed that section of the liberated women’s manifesto.”
Her eyes rolled up and she sighed, loudly. “I’m feeling quite drained, and confused. Where are we going, Rafe? Are we just . . . running away? Do you have any sort of scheme? A plan, if you please?”
“Of course I have a plan. And you do not appear to be greatly fatigued.” There was a spark in his eye and a hint of grin. “You always were a daredevil as well as beautiful.”
She’d forgotten how he could try a girl’s composure. “Your meaningless flattery will only make me more disagreeable. Once again, do you have a stratagem, Detective Lewis?”
Rafe shook his head in dismay. “Christ, you’re going to pursue this like a bloody bulldog.” A shock of hair had fallen into his eyes. He raked it back with his fingers.
“Only because I suspect you have no plan.”
Rafe edged closer and lowered his voice. “There are timeswhen it is safer that you not know my plans. At the moment, I have no idea who these cockups are, what they’re about, why they’re after inventors and industrialists—why you in particular. Who their leader might be, their
A forgotten umbrella leaned against the corner compartment. She took it up and followed after the two struggling men, who lost their balance and nearly fell off the coupler bridge. She lifted the umbrella. Rafe recovered his balance and shoved his attacker against the torn curtain, which ripped under the pressure. Fanny swung as Rafe released his assailant. The umbrella caught in the oiled canvas and finished the job. The fabric flapped violently in the face of the attacker gasping for breath. Rafe took a step back and kicked him off the moving train.
A faint shadow passed overhead, distracting her from the spine-chilling shriek of the falling man. “Up above!” she cried and retreated back inside the coach aisle as a second man dropped down on top of Rafe. In the narrow space between cars, punches flying, the brawling combatants rolled from the end of one railcar to the other, each one having a turn at getting his head smashed.
She winced. Holding the umbrella like a cricket bat, she swung it handle first. She smacked the platform inches from Rafe’s head. “Sorry.” She struck again and got in a good whack to the back of his assailant’s head.
“Fanny, get back.”
She struck again and hit the mark. Crack!
“Bollocks.” Rafe wrenched the umbrella from her hands and swiped the wooden handle across the man’s face. Blood poured from a broken nose and his attacker collapsed with a grunt. Rafe clambered to his feet, grabbed the bloke by the collar, and propped the dazed man up on the bridge.
“One more for the road, mate?” Rafe lifted the umbrella for a last bash, but before he could strike, the bloody-nosed thug turned and jumped off the train. Fanny sidled up beside Rafe and leaned out the torn canopy between carriages. After a bone-cracking tumble, the man rolled his way down the embankment.
A strong hand gripped her arm. Rafe foisted her back inside the empty passenger compartment and sat her down roughly. “What did I tell you?”
“Stay inside. But—”
“But nothing, Fanny.” He placed both hands aboveher shoulders and leaned close. “You must do as I say at all times, or I cannot protect you.”
Arms crossed snugly under her chest, she thrust out her lower lip. “It seems to me you were the one sorely in need of defending.” His tie was askew and the front of his jacket had fallen open. A splatter of blood covered his shirt and waistcoat. She worked her way up to meet his stare.
“Are suffragists always so intrepid?”
“I prefer to think of myself as capable.” She raised a brow in defiance.
He slumped onto the opposite seat. “Must have missed that section of the liberated women’s manifesto.”
Her eyes rolled up and she sighed, loudly. “I’m feeling quite drained, and confused. Where are we going, Rafe? Are we just . . . running away? Do you have any sort of scheme? A plan, if you please?”
“Of course I have a plan. And you do not appear to be greatly fatigued.” There was a spark in his eye and a hint of grin. “You always were a daredevil as well as beautiful.”
She’d forgotten how he could try a girl’s composure. “Your meaningless flattery will only make me more disagreeable. Once again, do you have a stratagem, Detective Lewis?”
Rafe shook his head in dismay. “Christ, you’re going to pursue this like a bloody bulldog.” A shock of hair had fallen into his eyes. He raked it back with his fingers.
“Only because I suspect you have no plan.”
Rafe edged closer and lowered his voice. “There are timeswhen it is safer that you not know my plans. At the moment, I have no idea who these cockups are, what they’re about, why they’re after inventors and industrialists—why you in particular. Who their leader might be, their
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