Olivia Twist(67)

As the carriage slowed on Great Surrey Street, Olivia scooted to the edge of her seat and clutched the door handle, wishing heartily she’d had the time to rally an army of constables.

“Hold up,” Topher said. “We can’t just go charging out there without a plan.”

Olivia glanced over her shoulder at Topher March. He pulled the cuffs down on his immaculate suit jacket and pushed a lock of blond hair back into place as if he were arriving at the opera. Fear tingled through Olivia’s limbs, almost freezing her where she sat. What could she and Mr. Pompous Toff do against a band of street thugs?

“Just follow my lead and try not to get yourself killed,” Olivia instructed as the wheels rolled to a stop and she jumped from the carriage. Not waiting, she lifted her skirt and ran toward the bridge. A dense haze obscured visibility, forcing her to slow. Topher jogged up beside her, and they crept forward into the cloud.

Sounds of a scuffle reached them just before the mist parted to reveal three men laid out in various stages of unconsciousness. Jack was in the center of it all, fighting three assailants at once. Olivia’s hand flew to her mouth, and she screamed into her palm as two men charged Jack, one holding a wicked-looking knife.

In a blur of motion, Jack spun behind the knife-wielding thug, threw him off balance with a kick to the back of his knees, and grabbed his arm, thrusting the blade into the approaching attacker’s arm. A third man rushed him. Olivia watched in amazement as Jack pivoted, punched him in the throat, and slammed his palm into the man’s nose, sending him to his knees while bleeding and gasping for breath. The knife wielder returned, blood dripping from his blade as he stalked cautiously toward Jack. Jack’s head swiveled between him and a bald giant who barreled out of the haze brandishing a club.

“I don’t know which one to hit first,” Topher said out of the side of his mouth. Olivia turned to see him swinging a pistol between Jack’s accosters, trying to get a clear shot. The giant swung his club; Jack ducked and turned, taking the brunt of the hit to his shoulder.

“Give me that.” Olivia grabbed the gun, cocked it, and fired up into the air. All three men froze. “The beaks are on their way. Take your wounded and go!” Her voice echoed back to her over the river, chanting the word, “Go . . . go . . . go.”

Jack’s gaze met hers as the goons began to scramble, but instead of gratitude, his eyes burned with fury. He stalked toward her, a slight hitch in his stride. “What have you done?” he ground out through clenched teeth. A shadow purpled his right cheekbone and blood oozed from his mouth and seeped from a cut on his bicep, soaking through the light material of his shirt.

A gasp escaped Olivia’s throat, but his accusation and the rage on his face squashed her sympathy. “Last time I checked, I was saving your sorry hide!”

“Shut your mouth!” He grabbed her arm in a painful grip, took the pistol and thrust it, butt first, at Topher, who promptly began to reload it. “Get her out of here. Now.” Jack whirled her around and gave her a push in the opposite direction. Olivia stumbled forward several steps, but something in her rebelled and she dug in her heels. After all they’d been through together, how dare he treat her like some damsel in distress!

“What a lovely gift you’ve brought me, Dodger.” The voice was deep and intrinsically familiar.

The skin on Olivia’s arms prickled into gooseflesh. She turned to find a man being held up by another, blood leaking from his nose and drying in rivulets around both sides of his mouth. He grinned in her direction. “You look just like your sweet, dead mama.”

A shiver skittered down Olivia’s spine. The man was tall and broad with dark blond hair, his leer showing long dimples in both his thin cheeks. Her brother. She’d been so focused on Jack’s safety that she hadn’t thought through the implications of coming to his rescue. If Monks recognized her, she’d condemned them all.

In her panic, one word scraped out of her throat. “Jack . . .”

Jack’s fierce blue gaze met hers before he positioned himself in front of her, blocking her from view. “I beat you fair, Monks. If you don’t keep our bargain, you can be beyond sure every street thief and costermonger from here to Newgate will know it. Without your reputation, you’ll lose everything. Now scurry away to whatever hole you came from.”

“All I want is a family reunion. What do you say, little sister?” Monks called out.

Jack grabbed the gun from Topher’s hand, cocked it, and leveled it at Monks’s head. “Speak to her again and I’ll end you right now.”

Olivia looked around Jack’s shoulder to see her brother’s disdainful smirk. Not the reaction one would expect from someone being held at gunpoint. “What’s stopping you, little street rat?” Monks taunted. “Mercy is for the weak. Surely when I drove the blade between your ribs and listened to your pathetic cries, you learned that lesson.”

Jack’s finger hovered over the trigger of the pistol and he took a step forward. Olivia could see the vein pulsing in the side of his throat. She prayed he wouldn’t shoot. Although she doubted many would mourn her mad half brother, with so many witnesses, Jack would surely hang.

He took another step in Monks’s direction, but her brother’s next words froze him in place.

“You think you’re the only one with a gun, Mr. Dawkins?” Two men appeared from behind the curtain of fog with pistols trained in their direction. “Or do you prefer your new name, Mr. MacCarron?”