arm pulled her against a hulking frame and dragged her toward the shadows.
She fought back with all her might, kicking and dragging her feet. The toe of her shoe caught on the edge of the gate and slammed it shut. With a grunt, the large oaf who seized her muttered under his breath and squeezed harder. Wrenching her neck, Fanny glimpsed a transportvan at the end of the alley. The kind of paneled vehicle used for moving furniture and belongings. The back door was open. Dear God, they meant to put her inside.
She was being abducted.
She squirmed and wriggled and bit to no avail. The brute held on tight, crushing the air from her lungs. How foolish she had been not to take Rafe’s instructions seriously. Tossed onto the hard floorboards of the rig, she hit headfirst. Stars swept across her field of vision.
The painful creak of the campus gate crashed open and banged against a brick wall covered in ivy. “Fanny?” The call came from far away.
Thank God for a shout. “Rafe!” The large man in the scratchy jacket flung himself into the wagon and smothered her cry to a feeble gasp.
Chapter Five
R afe flew out the alley, feet keeping pace with his racing thoughts. Christ, where was she? He took a corner so fast he nearly tumbled onto the bloody pavers. Regaining his balance he lengthened his stride. There, straight ahead, a furniture van wobbled down the street at a blistering fast pace. “Fanny!” Common sense and a nose for crime said he’d find her inside. She had to be.
The clumsy conveyance would have to slow considerably to make the tight turn at George Square. Rafe vaulted over the iron fence and cut across a small patchwork of park surrounded by a quiet row of shops and townhomes. He pulled out his Webley and fired above the driver’s head. The man snapped the reins and the horses bolted around the turn.
Rafe sucked in a gulp of air and cursed the day he’d smoked his first cigarette. “Dear God, I’ll give up the fags, just let me catch this damned—” Rafe leaped onto the driver’s step and pulled himself up beside the man with the reins.
He pressed his revolver to the inside curve of the driver’s ear. “Stop the van.” The bloke jabbed him hard in the ribs, but his hands were full of reins. The frenzied nags took the next corner at a blistering pace, tilting the conveyance on two wheels. “Bloody hell.” He grabbed the man by the collar and used the steep angle to shove the driver off.
As if in a nightmare, the carriage teetered momentarily, then groaned—protesting the pull of gravitational forces before it toppled over. The jarring crash all but hurled Rafe onto the street. But not quite. Thrown to the very edge of the wagon, Rafe pulled himself onto the side panel and crawled back to the front of the vehicle. The overturned van continued down the cobbled lane with great deal of grating and scraping. Sparks flew off the wheel hubs as the terrified horses continued to run, out of control. An eternity of seconds passed before he managed to get hold of the reins. With a firm hand, he pulled back, gentling the horses with the sound of his voice. The drag of the overturned caravan helped slow their forward momentum.
The crash and the horses’ high-pitched whinnies brought several men running from a nearby mews. One groom helped steady the animals while the other man worked to unhitch the team from the wagon.
Rafe jumped to the ground and made his way to the rear doors of the van. He squinted back down the lane, but could find no sign of the fallen driver. No injured body lying in the road. Likely ran off, lucky dolt. He reached out and turned the lever on the rear doors. Nothing. He gave it a hard tug.
Jammed.
Bracing his foot against the frame, he wrenched one side free. The open door swung out and hit the ground. Poking his gun into velvet blackness, he held the revolver at arm’s length and entered the van.
A streetlamp cast a dim flickering light over the body of a large bloke lying
She fought back with all her might, kicking and dragging her feet. The toe of her shoe caught on the edge of the gate and slammed it shut. With a grunt, the large oaf who seized her muttered under his breath and squeezed harder. Wrenching her neck, Fanny glimpsed a transportvan at the end of the alley. The kind of paneled vehicle used for moving furniture and belongings. The back door was open. Dear God, they meant to put her inside.
She was being abducted.
She squirmed and wriggled and bit to no avail. The brute held on tight, crushing the air from her lungs. How foolish she had been not to take Rafe’s instructions seriously. Tossed onto the hard floorboards of the rig, she hit headfirst. Stars swept across her field of vision.
The painful creak of the campus gate crashed open and banged against a brick wall covered in ivy. “Fanny?” The call came from far away.
Thank God for a shout. “Rafe!” The large man in the scratchy jacket flung himself into the wagon and smothered her cry to a feeble gasp.
Chapter Five
R afe flew out the alley, feet keeping pace with his racing thoughts. Christ, where was she? He took a corner so fast he nearly tumbled onto the bloody pavers. Regaining his balance he lengthened his stride. There, straight ahead, a furniture van wobbled down the street at a blistering fast pace. “Fanny!” Common sense and a nose for crime said he’d find her inside. She had to be.
The clumsy conveyance would have to slow considerably to make the tight turn at George Square. Rafe vaulted over the iron fence and cut across a small patchwork of park surrounded by a quiet row of shops and townhomes. He pulled out his Webley and fired above the driver’s head. The man snapped the reins and the horses bolted around the turn.
Rafe sucked in a gulp of air and cursed the day he’d smoked his first cigarette. “Dear God, I’ll give up the fags, just let me catch this damned—” Rafe leaped onto the driver’s step and pulled himself up beside the man with the reins.
He pressed his revolver to the inside curve of the driver’s ear. “Stop the van.” The bloke jabbed him hard in the ribs, but his hands were full of reins. The frenzied nags took the next corner at a blistering pace, tilting the conveyance on two wheels. “Bloody hell.” He grabbed the man by the collar and used the steep angle to shove the driver off.
As if in a nightmare, the carriage teetered momentarily, then groaned—protesting the pull of gravitational forces before it toppled over. The jarring crash all but hurled Rafe onto the street. But not quite. Thrown to the very edge of the wagon, Rafe pulled himself onto the side panel and crawled back to the front of the vehicle. The overturned van continued down the cobbled lane with great deal of grating and scraping. Sparks flew off the wheel hubs as the terrified horses continued to run, out of control. An eternity of seconds passed before he managed to get hold of the reins. With a firm hand, he pulled back, gentling the horses with the sound of his voice. The drag of the overturned caravan helped slow their forward momentum.
The crash and the horses’ high-pitched whinnies brought several men running from a nearby mews. One groom helped steady the animals while the other man worked to unhitch the team from the wagon.
Rafe jumped to the ground and made his way to the rear doors of the van. He squinted back down the lane, but could find no sign of the fallen driver. No injured body lying in the road. Likely ran off, lucky dolt. He reached out and turned the lever on the rear doors. Nothing. He gave it a hard tug.
Jammed.
Bracing his foot against the frame, he wrenched one side free. The open door swung out and hit the ground. Poking his gun into velvet blackness, he held the revolver at arm’s length and entered the van.
A streetlamp cast a dim flickering light over the body of a large bloke lying
Similar Books
