The Apothecary's Poison (Glass and Steele #3)(63)

"Let her go then we'll talk."

"We're past the point of talk, Mr. Glass, and your woman ain't going nowhere. She's a part of this. Now, put your hands in the air, both of you."

I did but Matt hesitated. "Matt!" My whispered voice trembled.

He slowly raised his hands. "Are you all right, India?"

I nodded and tried not to look terrified out of my wits.

The man jerked the gun at Matt. "Order your driver to move on."

"Bryce!" Matt called. "Drive off!"

"Where to, sir?" Bryce called back.

"Just drive around," the man said.

"Anywhere!" Matt shouted. "And go as fast as you can!"

"Fast, eh?" The thug's dry chuckle hung in the cloying air of the cabin. "You think you can overpower me without this going off?" He turned the gun on me. "Think again."

The coach rolled forward and the thug settled on the seat where I'd been sitting moments ago. I perched at the other end with Matt occupying the opposite seat. He didn't take his gaze off Coyle's man.

"You didn't heed my last warning," the man said. "I told you not to continue your investigation, and yet you were about to go to the hospital where Hale worked."

"You followed us," Matt said.

The man shrugged. "Since you didn't listen to me, I have to punish you so you know I'm serious."

"Punish?" I whispered. "What are you going to do?"

My watch chimed, a sharp sound that punctured the tense air.

"Let me show you," the man said. "Remove your glove, Miss Steele, and give me your right hand."

"Don't, India," Matt snapped.

The watch chimed again, louder.

"Either you give me your hand, Miss Steele, or I shoot you.

The watch chimed again, and I hesitated. It was warning me. Against giving him my hand or against inaction? "What will you do?" I asked.

"Since you're such a pretty lady, I'll kiss it first." He smiled, revealing a chipped front tooth and several crooked ones. "Then I'll snap every bone in every finger."

I recoiled. My stomach rebelled and bile burned my throat.

Again, my watch chimed, louder than before. The thug glanced around, annoyed, but his gaze quickly settled on me again.

"You touch her and I'll kill you." Matt's harsh voice filled the cabin over the rumble of wheels.

"Either I break your hand or I shoot you, Miss Steele. It's your choice."

"Why?" I whispered.

"Because you didn't take my first threat seriously. Maybe a broken hand will remind you the next time you decide to continue with the investigation. Now, put out those pretty, fine fingers and let me kiss them first. If you don't, I put a bullet through you. I reckon your shoulder. What do you think, Mr. Glass?"

Matt's ragged breaths expanded his chest. "You won't get out of this coach alive if you hurt her."

My watch's chime clanged like a bell.

The thug flinched. "Where is that bleeding racket coming from?"

"It's my watch," I said. "It's in my reticule. I dropped it when you ambushed us."

"Pick it up and hand it to me. Do it slowly."

I reached down and my hand touched the reticule's fabric. I passed it to the thug and he squeezed the pouch, feeling for a pistol or other weapon perhaps. Then he suddenly let it go.

The reticule bounced on his lap, leaping inches into the air, and the watch clanged over and over with deafening relentlessness. Coyle's man stared at it, his eyes huge. "What the devil—?"

Matt lunged at the hand holding the gun. It went off.

"Matt!" I screamed.

Oh God, was he hurt? Had he been shot?

Strips of leather, wool and wood rained down on me. The leather-clad ceiling sported a large hole, exposing its woolen padding. Matt hadn't been hit. I half sighed, half sobbed in relief.

Matt wrestled the man in the corner, causing the cabin to rock violently. He pinned down the hand that clutched the gun and dug his knee into the man's chest. His other hand circled his throat. The thug's eyes bulged, and his face turned a dangerous shade of purple.

"Don't kill him!" I cried.

My reticule had fallen to the floor again. I picked it up and opened the drawstring mouth. My watch had fallen silent and no longer leapt about. I pulled it out and checked it. It seemed to be in perfect order and even warmed to my touch. I didn't return it to my reticule but kept it in my hand.

"India, order Bryce to drive to Coyle's house," Matt said, taking the gun off the man.

"Not Scotland Yard?" I asked.

"Not yet." He sat back on the seat and pointed the gun at the thug.

I opened the window and gave Bryce new orders then closed it again.

Coyle's man rubbed his red throat and scowled at Matt. "I'll gut you when I get free," he rasped.

"You won't get free," Matt said.

He barked a laugh that made him cough.

"Lord Coyle won't save you," Matt said. "You've just become a liability."

We drove in silence to Belgravia. Bryce must have remembered which house was Lord Coyle's from a previous visit, because he pulled up outside its grand entrance.