Intimate 02 - Intimate Surrender (30 page)

Hannah stood where she was for several long minutes. Perhaps it was hours. She had no idea how long she’d stood staring at the empty doorway where Rafe had gone. When Dalia rushed into the room, it was empty. Crumbly and Rummery were gone—along with Rafe’s grandfather’s watch. All Hannah had left from this evening was a hollow space inside her breast where her heart used to live.

“Genny?” Dalia said, her tone urgent enough to pull Hannah from her despair.

“Skinner’s got Delores. He just sent a messenger to tell you that if you want her back, you have to come for her.”

Hannah struggled to come to grips with what Dalia said. “Where is she?”

“He said if we wanted her back, you were to meet him inside Covent Garden, off the Bedford Street entrance.”

“Have my carriage brought round.”

“No,” Dalia said. “You can’t go alone.”

“I have no intention of going alone. Send word to Frisk. Have him bring Razer and Tumbler. Tell them to gather as many men as they can and meet me at Hart Street. Tell them to stay in the shadows. I don’t want Skinner to know they’re there.”

Hannah rushed to her rooms. She quickly changed from the dress she’d worn for the auction. When she finished, she unlocked a drawer in her desk and took out a gun. She made sure it was loaded, then put it in the pocket of her skirt.

“Hopefully, you won’t have to use that,” Dalia said to her.

Hannah nodded. She’d never killed anyone in her life and hoped that wouldn’t change tonight. But if it did, Skinner would be the man most deserving to die.

Word came that Frisk and Razer and Tumbler were on their way to Covent Garden, and Hannah rushed down to her waiting carriage. Every man employed at Madam Genevieve’s followed her.

Nothing about this night had gone as she’d planned. Now her greatest fear was that what happened next would be something she couldn’t live with.

C
louds covered the moon, and when they reached Covent Garden, the sky was more black than starlit. Hannah wished there would be at least a little moonlight so she could make out more than shadows, but that wasn’t to be.

Humphrey was atop, and he drove her carriage down Bedford Street to the north Covent Garden entrance. The other men had gone to where Frisk and the others were waiting.

When the carriage slowed to enter Covent Garden, Hannah clutched the pistol she had in the pocket of her skirt. She wasn’t fond of weapons of any kind, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t carry one, or that she didn’t know how to use it. She did. Any female who lived on the streets of London for any length of time not only knew how to use a gun, but wasn’t afraid to fire it.

The carriage drove a distance into the Garden, then stopped. Hannah waited until Humphrey climbed down and opened the door.

“Do you want me to go with you, ma’am?”

“No, Humphrey. I won’t go far. You stay with the carriage. I’ll call when I have Delores.”

“Do you think she’s still alive?”

Hannah considered what answer to give to the question she’d refused to ask herself since she heard Skinner had Delores. “If Skinner is lucky, she is.”

Hannah took a few steps into the darkness and stopped. She wouldn’t go any farther into Skinner’s area than she had to. Instead, she’d make Skinner come to her.

She waited.

Somewhere in the distance, Frisk and the others should be making their way toward them. Hopefully, they’d be in place before anything happened.

Hannah waited a while longer, knowing patience was her friend. Knowing that Skinner would undoubtedly tire of waiting before she did.

Eventually, her patience paid off.

“Well, Madam Genevieve,” Skinner voiced in a raspy tone.

Hannah couldn’t see him, but that wasn’t necessary in order to recognize the menacing tone in his words.

“Delores, are you there?”

For a second or more, there was no answer. Then the response wasn’t a word confirming Delores was alive and well, but a barely audible moan that proved the opposite. The pitiful whimper in the darkness sent shivers of anger and fury raging through Hannah. Delores was barely able to utter a sound.

“Bring a light, Stump,” Skinner ordered one of his men. “I’m sure Madam Genevieve would like to see her friend and make sure she’s all right.”

Within seconds, a man carrying a lantern walked toward Skinner and held it over Delores’s head.

“You bastard,” Hannah growled.

Delores’s face was so bruised and swollen she was hardly recognizable. The dress she’d been wearing was torn and hung in strips on her body. Hannah didn’t want to imagine what had been done to her.

“Bring her over,” Hannah ordered.

“And if I don’t?”

“You’re dead.”

Skinner laughed. “Such threats, Madam Genevieve. And from a delicate creature such as yourself.”

“You won’t think I’m such a delicate creature when you have a bullet lodged in your flesh.”

Skinner laughed again. “I believe it’s time for you and me to come to an understanding, Genevieve.” Skinner pushed Delores forward and stepped closer so Hannah could see her more clearly. “I’m giving you back your whore because I want you to make sure the rest of your girls see her. This is what will happen to every one of them if they dare try to steal any of the girls I recruit to work for me.”

“Recruit?” Hannah asked. “You don’t recruit them, Skinner. You
steal
children from their homes and families. You take advantage of the weak and helpless and destroy any hope they have for a future.”

When he spoke, Hannah could tell her words struck a spot with Skinner. The tone of his voice turned harsher, and he spoke through clenched teeth.

“You’re terribly brave for a lone woman facing me and my men. Or is your vicar hiding in the shadows waiting to come to your aid?”

“No, Skinner. My
vicar
is not here. I made sure he is no longer where you can harm him. Unlike you, if he had discovered you’d put a marker on his head, he would
have faced you man-to-man. Instead, you hire the dregs of humanity to do your work for you because you are too much of a coward to face him yourself.”

“You bitch,” Skinner bellowed. “If I didn’t know it would cause such an uproar, I’d kill you myself.”

“Try it and you won’t live long enough to take your next breath,” Hannah replied.

Hannah looked at Delores, then turned her gaze back to Skinner. Her fingers itched to pull out the gun she had in her pocket and put a bullet through his heart. But she hadn’t reached the point where she could kill someone who wasn’t armed.

“I think I have let you be the thorn in my side long enough, bitch,” Skinner said. He pulled a pistol from his pocket and pointed it at Hannah.

“I wouldn’t try it, Skinner,” a voice bellowed from behind her. She recognized it as belonging to Frisk.

“What the hell,” Skinner said, staring at the movement from behind her. He motioned for his men to come forward. About twenty men came from the shadows, all carrying pistols.

Hannah wasn’t sure how many men Frisk and the other bordello owners could gather on such short notice, but from the surprised looks on Skinner’s men’s faces, they were outnumbered by more than just a few.

“You’ll regret this, Frisk,” Skinner threatened. “You’ll regret siding against me.”

“You’ve bullied and threatened us long enough, Skinner. We’re through taking orders from you.”

“You think you can stand up to me?” Skinner bellowed. “None of you are big enough.”

“Maybe not alone,” Tumbler said. “But we’re not alone any longer. We’ve joined forces against you.”

Skinner snarled a low growl, then focused his rage on Hannah. “This is your fault,” he roared. “You’ll pay for this.”

Before Hannah could move, Skinner aimed his gun in her direction and fired.

She waited to feel the pain from the bullet she knew had struck her, but she felt only a small sting, as if her arm had been pricked by a needle.

She wasn’t sure what happened after that. The firing of gunshots echoed in the air. When she looked up, Skinner was lying on the ground in a pool of blood and his men were nowhere to be seen.

“Are you all right?” Dalia whispered from behind her.

Hannah tried to turn, but her legs suddenly didn’t want to support her. She staggered, then dropped to her knees.

“Genny?” Dalia called out again.

Hannah looked up to see Dalia and Humphrey rushing toward her.

“Genny, are you all right?” Dalia asked.

“I think so,” Hannah answered. “Where’s Delores? Is she all right?”

“I’ll get her. Humphrey, help Miss Genevieve to the carriage. We’d better get out of here before the authorities come.”

Dalia ran to help Delores, and Humphrey helped Hannah to her feet.

“Can you walk, Miss Genevieve?”

“Yes, Humphrey. Just give me your arm.”

Humphrey held out his arm, and Hannah leaned against him as they made their way to the carriage. She
climbed inside and sank against the cushions as Dalia helped Delores inside.

“You’re safe now, Delores,” Hannah said. She tried to sound confident, but she didn’t have enough strength to speak louder than a whisper. “We’ll be home soon,” she said when the carriage lurched forward.

“I’m glad he’s dead,” Delores muttered bitterly. “I would have killed him myself if I’d have had a chance.”

Hannah opened her mouth to tell Delores she understood, but no words would come out. She tried again, but blackness overtook her and she knew no more.

“It’s about time you woke up,” Dalia said from a chair beside her bed.

Hannah looked around the room and noticed the sun peeking through the draperies. “What time is it?”

“Nearly four o’clock. You almost slept the day away. How do you feel?”

“Like I’ve been shot.”

Dalia laughed. “Doctor Blevins said that’s what you’d feel like.” Dalia rose from her chair and poured some water into a glass. “Are you thirsty?”

Hannah nodded.

Dalia helped her take a drink of the water, then Hannah dropped her head back against the pillow. “How’s Delores?”

“She’s as fine as she can be after going through what she did.”

“Tell her I’ll come to see her as soon as I’m able.”

“She knows you will. She’s more worried about you than herself. All the girls are.”

“Assure them that I’m fine.”

Dalia sat again. “Do you want me to send for him?”

Hannah didn’t pretend not to know who Dalia was talking about. She knew her friend meant Rafe.

Even though she knew Dalia’s intention was good, the reality of what had happened was still painful. Rafe had walked out of her life. She’d made sure he’d seen her for what she really was—a prostitute who sold her body to the highest bidder.

“No, Dalia.”

“He may not be gone yet, Genny. Maybe he hasn’t left London. Skinner’s dead now, so he’s not a threat to your vicar any longer.”

Suddenly, Hannah’s heart ached more than her arm. “It’s too late. He made that clear last night when he won me but didn’t want me. And he won’t change his mind. I finally convinced him that I’m a prostitute.”

“But maybe now that Skinner’s dead you can—”

“Go, Dalia. Assure the girls that I’m fine. Then tell Delores I’ll come to see her as soon as I can get out of bed.”

Dalia didn’t insist again. She knew Hannah’s mind was firm as far as Rafe was concerned.

Hannah closed her eyes and waited to hear the door close behind Dalia.

When the latch clicked, she allowed the last tears she would shed over losing Rafe to run down her cheeks. She allowed herself to mourn, because the only man she would ever love was dead to her.

Now if only she could survive long enough for her heart to discover a reason to continue beating.