Assassin's Heart (Assassin's Heart, #1)(60)

I raised my hands. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t know the Da Vias and they won’t pay anything for me.”

Lefevre smirked. “You aren’t a very good liar, Miss Lea. Even hidden behind that mask of yours. And anyway, being a lawman doesn’t pay very well. If the Da Vias are paying, I could use the boost to my finances. And an end to the serial murderer.”

“I told you that isn’t me.”

Lefevre snorted. “Oh please. You can give up the charade now.”

“She’s not lying,” Les said beside me. “I’m the murderer you’ve been looking for. You don’t need her.”

What was he doing? Telling the truth wouldn’t gain him anything. Unless . . . unless he wasn’t trying to get anything out of it.

Lefevre rolled his eyes. “You? Really? You don’t even have a mask.”

“North quarter, ten days ago. Northeast by the lazy canal, four weeks ago. A woman, six weeks ago by Upsand Downs.”

Lefevre’s smirk vanished. “It seems I was mistaken. I can admit when I’m wrong. But I still need the money. You’ll just be an extra bonus for my reputation as a lawman.”

His men moved forward.

“I’m giving you a final chance to walk away,” I said. “This won’t go the way you want. If you walk away now, everything can be forgotten. Otherwise I’ll have to kill you.” I showed him my conviction in my eyes, so he’d understand I could murder him with no more than a flick of my wrist. That his blood across my face would be like the spray of the sea to me, wet and warm and nothing more.

His men paused and glanced to Lefevre. He barked a laugh, his eyebrow raised in disbelief. “Oh, Lea, you ignorant girl. I’m not going to fight you. I’ll be leaving you in the capable hands of my men. After all, the sun’s up and I have work to do and lawbreakers to catch.” He waved his hand, and his men flowed toward us. “Keep her alive,” he commanded as he turned to walk away. “Kill the other one.”

The men charged as Lefevre whistled and left the alley behind. I barely had a moment to yank my stiletto from my boot before they were on us.

Six against two. If it had been me and Val, we could’ve handled it. But it was me and Les—unfinished and unarmed—trapped in a cramped space with no quick escape. I had to keep him safe.

Before the first attacker reached me, I twisted my body and shoved Les farther into the alley. He grunted in surprise and I imagined his anger once he realized my plan, but I didn’t care. When this was over, I’d rather have him alive and angry than injured or dead. The thought of him dead was like a kick to the stomach.

I blinked. When had that changed?

The first man swung at me with a cudgel. I barely managed to block his swing. The blow vibrated up my arm. Pops in my shoulder told me more of my stitches had snapped. I brought my knee into the man’s gut and his breath exploded over me in a whoosh, stinking of liquor and rotting teeth. I shoved him into the man directly behind him. They tumbled to the ground in a tangle of limbs, tripping up a third man.

Another attacker swiped at me with a knife, aiming for my face. Dumb. Even if I hadn’t managed to dodge his clumsy attempt, my mask would deflect any strokes. I grabbed his arm and pulled it sharply backward. Braced against my left elbow, his joint cracked and snapped. The alley filled with his screams and the sound of his knife clattering to the ground.

Movement over my shoulder. I shifted to the left, blocking Les in the alley, keeping him behind me. His rage-filled eyes shot murder at me from beneath his hood, but I didn’t have time for him.

I smashed the heel of my boot into the throat of another attacker. His neck crunched. He collapsed against a wall, hands clawing at his throat as he struggled for breath he would never find.

The first three attackers got to their feet and changed tactics, coming at me together instead of individually. It actually made things easier. They got in one another’s way and I ducked and weaved and stabbed, all while blocking Les, keeping him away from the center of the fight. The alley was so cramped, the fewer clippers in the mix, the better. This way I didn’t have to dodge Les, too.

Blood dripped off my mask and leathers. Its rich scent filled my mouth and nose as I caught my breath. Four of Lefevre’s men lay dead or injured on the ground when the giant finally waded into the fray. He was close to seven feet tall and wide as a cart. Not fat, simply thick with flesh and muscle. The attacker with the fractured arm pressed against the wall as the giant charged, bellowing like an enraged bull.

I stepped back, trying to give myself space, but I bumped against someone.

“Les!” I screamed, pushing against him.

The giant leaned over and rammed his shoulder into me, connecting sharply against my breastbone. If I hadn’t been wearing my leathers, padded to protect me, the bone would have cracked.

He launched me into the air. I flew into Les and we crashed into the wall, Les’s body shielding mine from the stone building. I heard, rather than saw, his head strike the wall. The loud crack bounced around the alley.

We collapsed to the ground.

“Les!” I grabbed his leathers. He didn’t respond, either unconscious or . . .

No! Don’t think it, Lea!

The giant grabbed my shoulders. He yanked me from Les, tossing me like a log onto a fire.

I landed on the body of one of the men I’d killed. Before me lay his cudgel, resting in a pool of thick blood. I snatched it up as the giant bellowed over me.