His Heart's Revenge (The Marshall Brothers Series, Book 2) (51 page)

Without a word passing between the two men, they quickened their pace on the stairs. "I couldn't stay up there without giving myself away. You told me just a week ago that she was suspicious of me again."

"It is probably nothing," Logan said. "You did what you're supposed to do. I haven't been thinking clearly since I got the photograph in my mail. I will feel a whole lot better when Katy explains it all to me."

Their steps slowed when they reached the landing between the second and third floors. A clerk opened the door below them but took the stairs down.

"Still," said Logan, drawing out the word as other thoughts continued to trouble him. "I cannot imagine why Katy would want to see Michael. She has never shown the least interest in him." He recalled the evening he had gone backstage at Wallack's to Katy's dressing room. Michael had been there, and Katy certainly had not been welcoming his attentions. Unsure of himself then, he had goaded her about Michael. "Remember at the cemetery? She refused to ride in the carriage with him."

Liam remembered. He remembered something else as well. "The day that Victor died, Mrs. Marshall had some words with Michael. He followed her out of Crestmore's onto Broadway, and when she tried to ignore him, he put his hands on her."

"You have never mentioned that before."

"I was working for Victor then. Honestly, I'd forgotten it."

Logan's steps quickened again. Michael backstage. Michael on Broadway. Michael at the cemetery. Had it been Michael at the Chesterfield Hotel? It explained Katy's reluctance to talk about the man who had accosted her. She would have been protecting Victor. That was Katy's way. Logan wondered if Katy thought she was protecting him now.
I would never do anything to shame you.
Her voice echoed in his mind. Logan and Liam were running by the time they reached the fourth floor landing.

* * *

Katy held up her arm to deflect Michael's blow. It helped. She only fell backward against the desk, catching her hip on the corner. "Oh, God, Michael," she begged, choking on the words, "don't hit me again. The bruises... Logan will see them and—"

Although Katy was blindly hobbling backward, trying to put the desk between them, Michael was stalking her. "Shut up." His voice was a snarl. "I don't want to hear anything about Logan Marshall. We had an agreement."

Katy pressed on. "I came here to tell you I could not go through with it. Then you threatened me with the pictures again, and I thought I could get them. I didn't know you had them here." She held out both hands this time as Michael swiped at her with the letter opener. It cut across her palm. Blood beaded along her heart line.

The blood frightened Michael more than it did Katy. He tossed the letter opener against the far wall. It clattered to the floor a second later. "You owe me, Katy. After the hell you've put me through, you owe me!"

She barely heard him. She was holding her wounded palm against her breast, nursing it with her good hand. When Michael grabbed her wrists and flung her toward the divan, she cried out. She had wrestled out from under him once before. Katy did not think she could do it again.

"Let me up!" She pushed at him, bloodying the shoulder of his jacket. One of his hands was pushing the hem of her gown toward her hips, the other circled her throat. His mouth covered hers, smothering her pleas and curses. Katy bit his tongue as it probed at the barrier of her teeth.

Michael jerked away from her, holding one hand over his mouth. He tasted his own blood. He stared at her over the top of his hand for several long seconds—then he struck.

* * *

Standing on the other side of Michael's office door, Logan and Liam heard a muffled cry that they both recognized as Katy's. They abandoned their intention to knock. Liam twisted the door handle and discovered the door was locked. He backed out of the way and gave Logan first crack at it. The heavy oak door reverberated under Logan's shoulder attack but the lock did not give. Liam tried next and met with failure as well. They alternated, using their bodies like battering rams. At the end of the hall a small group of employees looked on curiously, afraid to interfere once one of them recognized Logan Marshall.

The wood around the lock splintered on the fifth try, propelling Logan into the room. Only a step behind, Liam took in the same scene as his employer. He shut the door, keeping out prying eyes, and leaned against it. He did nothing to hold Logan back.

Katy was pushing hard at Michael's chest. Her face was averted as much as the hand over her mouth would allow. His knees separated her thighs so that all attempts to kick him were futile.

Michael was startled to feel the hands that caught him by his shirt collar. Anger had made him deaf to everything, including reason. He felt himself being lifted, and he knew his adversary was strong. It was not until he saw the odd mixture of relief and fear in Katy's eyes that he knew he was going to face Logan Marshall.

"Your wife is the one who—"

Logan was not interested in hearing anything Michael had to say. His fist caught Michael across the jaw. Michael staggered sideways, knocking over one of the Chippendales.

Before he could recover, Logan's fists smashed into his middle and then just under his chin. He brought up his arms to protect himself, but Logan found an opening.

Michael reeled, falling backward onto the desk. Papers scattered, littering the floor. Michael rolled off the desk and took refuge on the other side. Logan climbed right over its top to get to him.

The force of Logan's jump sent both men to the floor. Michael's chair skidded toward the window, cracking one of the panes.

The desk was blocking Liam O'Shea's view. He casually walked to the other side of the room to get a better look, and ignored the appeal in Katy's eyes asking him to stop the fight. Logan wouldn't thank him for his interference.

Katy wrapped her wounded hand in a handkerchief as she moved from the divan. She winced, jamming her knuckles against her mouth to keep from crying out when she heard Logan groan.

Michael had finally leveled a blow at Logan's chest. It was not enough to impair him. Logan responded with three quick jabs that immobilized Michael. He reared back to attack again, when he heard Katy's soft voice saying his name, begging him to stop.

Logan got to his feet. Michael rolled away so he was facedown on the Chinese rug. He lay very still, and except for an occasional moan, he was quiet.

"I am all right," Katy said as she became the object of Logan's study. His pewter eyes darkened as they swept over her, taking in the swollen redness of her lips, the torn collar of her gown. Katy did not lift her hands. She did not want him to see they were shaking.

"Really, Logan, I am all right," she repeated softly when his attention strayed to Michael again. She had only seen the expression in Logan's face once before—when he attacked her stepfather. She thought he might kill Michael Donovan now.

Katy stepped between Logan and Michael's prone and unmoving body.

For a moment Logan stared right through Katy. A small shake of his head cleared his vision and brought Katy to the forefront. "Oh, God, Katy," he said quietly, raising his arms to reach for her. "I have never been so—"

"I know." She gave herself up to the warmth of his embrace. He held her so tightly she could scarcely breathe. "I know." Katy closed her eyes, blocking out everything but the security of Logan's arms.

Liam O'Shea backed out of the room quietly, shutting the door behind him. He waited in the hallway with the small group of employees who had gathered there. His presence was enough to keep them from interfering.

Logan set Katy away, looking her over again for reassurance. He examined her injured hand and rewrapped it with his own handkerchief. He kissed her bruised knuckles.

"I have something to show you," he said. He reached in his pocket and pulled out the quartered sections of Katy's picture. "This came to me at the paper this morning."

Katy paled when she realized what he held. She averted her face, eyes lowered, until Logan cupped her chin and raised it toward him.

"I don't care about the photograph, Katy. I only care that you didn't trust me enough to tell me about it."

Michael was beginning to stir on the floor. Logan placed his foot squarely on the small of Michael's back and shoved him hard. Michael groaned once, then was silent.

"This came from Michael?" he asked.

She nodded. "He said he would not show any of them to you if... if I..." She could not finish. Instead she pointed to the torn photographs that littered the floor. "There are the others. I only came here to—"

"We don't need to speak of it now," he said, and watched a faint, tentative smile lift the corners of her mouth. He brushed his lips to hers, stood back and surveyed the color that had returned to her cheeks, then dropped to his haunches and began picking up the torn photographs.

"Get Victoria, Katy, and we will leave."

"Victoria's not here. I left her with—"

"I didn't send that photograph."

Katy and Logan turned in concert toward Michael. He was on his knees now, breathing shallowly as he nursed his ribs. There was a trickle of blood at the corner of his mouth. "I did not send that photograph," he repeated, grinding out the words as if they pained him. "After Katy threw it away, I never touched it again. In fact, I forgot about it."

"Like hell," said Logan.

"I swear it." Michael backed away awkwardly as Logan stood and approached him. He held one hand up to ward Logan off while continuing to protect his ribs with the other. When Logan extended a hand, Michael flinched. It took Michael a few seconds to realize there was a slip of paper dangling between Logan's thumb and forefinger.

"Are you telling me you didn't write this?" he asked.

Michael's eyes focused on the single word. Whore. A superior, insufferable smile crossed his face as he recognized the spidery scrawl. "That's Ria's hand."

"Liar!" Logan raised his arm to knock Michael back, intending to force the truth out of him. It was Katy's two-handed grip on his forearm that stopped him. She held him until she felt him relax, then she took the slip of paper from between his fingers. "Katy, don't—"

The word seemed to leap out at her, vicious and ugly. All she said was, "This is not Michael's handwriting."

"I am telling you," said Michael, "it's Ria's. She must have found the photograph."

Katy's fingers tightened on Logan's arm as panic laid an invisible weight against her chest. "Logan, Victoria isn't with me. I left her with Ria."

Logan hauled Michael to his feet and yelled for Liam. When the detective came in the room, Logan pushed Michael at him. "Help this bastard down to the street and hail us a cab. He is going to make certain we find his wife or so help me God, I will kill him."

"But, Logan—" Katy began.

Logan shook off Katy's hand and took her by the shoulders. "You don't understand. I was at the Donovan house before I came here. Ria wasn't there."

"Oh, God." Somehow Katy managed to remain standing even while it felt as if the entire floor was shifting beneath her feet.

"I am sending you home."

"No!"

"Katy." He gave her a small shake, wanting to force reason upon her.

"I am going with you. It's my fault she's with Ria now. I cannot wait at home, wondering if you've found her."

Logan realized she would follow him. He saw it in the set of her mouth, in the way she held herself so stiffly when all she wanted to do was crumple at his feet. "Very well," he said finally. He quickly straightened her torn collar as best he could and picked up her bonnet, shoving it into her hands. "Liam's waiting for us."

The interior of the hansom cab was quiet. Outside street noises did not penetrate the individual thoughts of the four occupants. Michael spit on his handkerchief and raised one corner of it to his mouth. He scrubbed at his bloodied lip while staring resentfully at Logan in the opposite seat.

"Do not think I am going to let what you did to me pass," he said. "I will own that damn paper of yours by the time my lawyers are finished."

"Really?" Logan asked softly, raising one eyebrow. "Then you had better hope we find my daughter quickly, because I am not going to consult any lawyers. I will own your hide without anyone's help."

The force of Logan's implacable stare pushed Michael back in his seat. "For God's sake," he complained sulkily. "You're making too much of this. Ria's probably taken the baby out for a walk."

"Let's hope that's the case."

But it wasn't. When they arrived at Michael's house, Duncan reported Ria had not returned. He knew nothing about Victoria. Liam kept Michael in tow as they searched the rooms for the baby. None of the servants interfered or took any opportunities to summon the police. Michael's humiliation in front of his staff was complete.

Back inside the cab, Logan clenched his fists to keep from going for Michael's throat. "You'd better start thinking, Donovan," he said, snapping off the words. "You have to know something about where your wife's gone." Out of the corner of his eye he saw Katy turn away and stare blankly out the carriage window. He reached for her hand and slipped his fingers between hers, squeezing gently. His other hand was still locked in a white-knuckled fist. "Think, Donovan."