The miracle she was praying for appeared. Guido de Rocci stood on the sidewalk, facing the street, holding her pressed up against her aunt’s Buick, his gun jabbing into her belly. His goons in their dark sedan had pulled to a stop in the street beside the Buick.
When de Rocci suddenly stiffened, she didn’t know why. Until she looked downward. Al crouched comfortably on the sidewalk behind the man, and the tip of his sword nestled at the base of Guido’s spine.
“Unhand the lady,” Al said softly. And his eyes glittered.
He was smart, her Musketeer. The guys in the car couldn’t even see him down there. The oversized Buick blocked him from their view.
Guido didn’t move.
“Release her, man, or I’ll run you through!” Al put a little more pressure on the sword, and Guido flinched.
“Okay, okay.” He let his grip on M. C. go, but still kept the gun in her belly.
“Now tell your men to drive away.” Again Al shoved the sword.
Guido grunted, and his jaw went tight. But he nodded to his goons. “Take one more turn around the block.”
The dark sedan moved slowly away. But M. C. still didn’t relax. Tough to relax with the barrel of a .44 in your gut.
“Very good, sir,” Al said, and he got to his feet as soon as the other car was out of sight. “Now, put your gun down, and perhaps I shall let you live.”
“You’re some kind of lunatic. I can blow the broad away with no more than a twitch of my finger, pal, so put your blade down or she’s history.”
“If you shoot her, the soldiers from the bank will come running,” Al said.
“Soldiers? What the hell are you, nuts?”
At that precise moment, one of the cops leaving the bank stepped out, glanced their way, and pointed right at Al. Several others followed as he came running, shouting that he’d spotted the suspect. The commotion took Al’s attention away from Guido for the briefest instant, and Guido whirled on him, gun raised.
With barely a sideways glance. Al flicked his sword, almost carelessly, and the gun flew from de Rocci’s hand and skittered across the sidewalk. Then Al backhanded the mob boss, and sent Guido sprawling.
The creep reached for his gun, even as M. C. was yanking the car door open and snatching up her own. She aimed it at his head. “Lie still, you slug. Al, get in. Quick!”
The cops ran closer, reaching for their weapons now. Al dove into the car, clambered into the passenger seat, and pulled M. C. in behind him. She slammed the door, turned the key, and laid rubber, cutting into traffic and drawing a half dozen horn blasts and hand gestures on the way.
Moments later, she heard the sirens. Hell, she was being chased by half the cops in Newark, and probably half the mob hit men as well. Traffic was bad. Almost at a standstill up ahead. She glanced at Al. He stared back, looking worried. And then she smiled and jerked the wheel. She laid on the horn as the car bumped over the curb and onto the sidewalk. People scattered like autumn leaves in front of a strong wind. She took out a few parking meters, but figured it was them or the pedestrians. She swung left, the wrong way down a one-way street, but the fastest route away from the city. By the time she emerged on a side road, she’d lost them. Lost them!
“Hot damn, I’m good,” she said, and slowed the car down to keep from attracting notice, turning onto less and less traveled streets until she was completely away from the city.
Al didn’t answer. She looked his way, and saw how pale he was. Looked as if he might lose his lunch, too. “You okay, Al?”
He swallowed hard, and nodded. “Of course,” he said. “The question is, are you?” The dazed expression left his eyes, and they filled instead with concern as he scanned her face. “Did that brute harm you, Mary Catherine?”
“No. But he would have.” She drew a deep breath and prepared to eat crow. “You were...pretty incredible back there, Al. I didn’t think you’d stand a chance against de Rocci and his gun-toting goons. I mean, with nothing but that sword. But you...” She shook her head and sighed. “You saved my butt, Al. I owe you one.”
He looked away, almost as if he were embarrassed by her praise. “It is what I came here to do,” he said. “And what I have spent most of my life doing. You should not be so surprised.”
She nodded. “My mistake. I suppose a guy who fights for a living learns a few things along the way.”
“You suppose correctly.”
She reached over to touch his shoulder. “I’m sorry I doubted you.”
He said nothing. Insulted at her surprise, she figured.
“Look, Al, I’ve never known a man like you, okay? I mean, most guys...hell, they aren’t tough like you. They haven’t needed to be. The world’s too modern. They don’t need to hunt for food or cut wood for fires or learn to fight. They’ve got grocery stores and fuel oil and sophisticated weapons. Just aim and shoot your way out of trouble. Simple. Barely any skill to it. A trained monkey could do it.”
He finally looked at her. And he was smiling when he did, which relieved her a little bit. He’d saved her life, after all. Insulting him was the last thing she’d meant to do.
“It works to my advantage, their softness.”
“Does it?”
He nodded. “That man seemed to think that because he had his pistol in hand, he had nothing to fear. He did not expect me to resist.”
“I guess you taught him a thing or two,” she said, and she couldn’t help smiling back. “I wish I could have seen his face when you flicked that sword of yours and sent his gun sailing. I’ll bet he looked like an air-starved trout.”
Al frowned and tilted his head. “His mouth was open. And his eyes did seem to bulge a bit.”
Mary Catherine laughed out loud, tipping her head back. “You’re something, Al. You really are.”
Al nodded, but his expression turned serious. “It will not be so easy next time,” he said.
M. C. felt her smile die. “You’re right. He’s not going to underestimate you again.” But then she brightened and patted her pocket. “But we’re halfway home, Al. I got the tape.”
Al sent her an approving glance. “I knew you would. What must we do next, to bring this de Rocci to justice?”
Mary Catherine licked her lips in thought. “We have to get the tape to the district attorney. I don’t trust anyone else. I want to personally put it into his hands. But it won’t be easy.”
“Nothing worthwhile ever is.”
“You got that right.” She took another turn, picking up speed. “We’re going to have to ditch the car, Al. De Rocci’s seen it, and by now the cops have the plate number. Then we’ll find a place to lay low, call the D.A. and set up a meeting.”
Al nodded. “A wise course of action,” he said.
“By the time we get settled in, D.A. Hennesey will be out of his office for the night. I doubt his home phone is listed.” He looked at her curiously, and she clarified. “We probably won’t be able to reach him until tomorrow.”
“Then our immediate concern is for a safe place to spend the night,” he said, cutting right to the heart of the matter.
“Right. We’ll head into the next town, leave the car at a diner, and call a cab to take us to a motel.”
“A cab?”
“A...car for hire,” she explained.
Al frowned, rubbing his chin. “Would the...er...police not be able to question the driver of this...cab, to find out where we’d gone?”
M. C. clapped a hand to her forehead. “You’re right. Hell, how are we going to get anywhere without a car?”
Al looked at her as if she were sprouting a second head. “You were right before, Mary Catherine. The modern world has made things far too easy.”
Al kept it to himself, but he’d been as amazed by Mary Catherine’s strength as she had been by his ability. Any other woman he’d known would have been in tears, become paralyzed with fear, or simply fainted away, had she found herself in a similar situation. A lowlife manhandling her, a weapon pressed to her tender belly. But Mary Catherine had defied the dog, insulted him, refused to cower.
She was, quite simply, amazing.
He suggested she drive far from the city, into as rural an area as the modern world had to offer. And instead of “ditching” her aunt’s contraption, whatever that meant, he’d persuaded her to trust its care to a farmer. Indeed, he’d managed to talk the kind man into letting them rent a pair of horses for the night, leaving the car as a sort of collateral to ensure their return.
The man’s eyes had widened when Al had offered him a handful of gold coins in exchange for the use of his horses. He’d examined them carefully, while M. C. had elbowed Alexandre in the rib cage.
When he looked her way, she whispered, “Those coins are probably worth a fortune, Al!”
“Nonsense. ‘Tis a pittance.”
“Not in this day and age. If you have any more, hold on to them, for heaven’s sake.”
He shrugged, quite befuddled. But the man pocketed the coins, grinning hugely, and was only too happy to comply when Alexandre asked him to keep the car in his barn overnight. To protect it from the elements, he said, though his true motive was to keep it from prying eyes.
He thought he’d done quite well, until the fanner led two graying, swaybacked mares from his barn, decked out in worn saddles and bridles whose straps were split with age.
“Are these the only two you have?” Alexandre asked, running a hand along one horse’s neck and feeling the matted coat in dire need of grooming.
“ ‘Fraid so,” the man said. “Take ‘em or leave ‘em.”
“Er...Al?”
Alexandre shook his head at M. C, then addressed the man. “Perhaps I shall give you more coin upon our return. So that you can purchase some oats for these animals, and perhaps a brush.”
The man frowned, unsure about whether he’d just been insulted, but unwilling to let the possibility of more gold slip by him. Finally he nodded. “That’d be real kind of you, mister.”
Alexandre nodded. “Then I shall, provided you keep all of this to yourself. The lady and I do not wish to be disturbed tonight”
The farmer smiled widely, and winked. “Mum’s the word.”
“Al,” M. C. said, and she tugged on his long coat this time. He turned to her. “We’ll only be needing one horse,” she told him. “Unless you want to see me fall on my butt”
Alexandre frowned. “You do not ride?”
“Never have. And won’t start now if we have a choice.”
“A choice, my lady, is one thing we do not have. I shall teach you. Fear not.”
She tugged him aside, her voice low. “Al, I mean it. I don’t want a horse all to myself. Can’t I just ride with you?”
His heart tripped over itself. So it was his closeness she craved, even still, after all she’d been through today. He stroked her hair and fought the desire rising like a tide within him. “I’d like nothing better than to hold you close to me in the saddle, sweet one. But I’ve already explained why that cannot be. Not yet,” he added, lest she think he did not return her ardor.
Her jaw dropped. She closed it. “Get over yourself, Al. I’m scared to ride one of these smelly beasts all by myself, and that’s all there is to it!”
He smiled slightly and nodded. “Of course you are. You, a woman who stands face-to-face with an armed blackguard, and looks him in the eye without a trace of fear. Of course you’re afraid of an old, plodding horse.”
“But it’s the truth! I am!”
He closed his eyes briefly, the exquisite agony of self-denial like a firestorm in his gut. “Soon,” he whispered, leaning closer and looking into her eyes. “It will be soon, Mary Catherine. And worth every second of waiting. I promise.”
He held her gaze with his, and saw a gleam of passion flit into her eyes. But she blinked, hiding it quickly, looking away. “You’re an arrogant jackass.”
He laughed softly. “Nonetheless, neither of these mares looks strong enough to carry us both. Much as the thought of holding you nestled between my thighs with your back pressed to my chest, and my arms tight around your waist, might tempt me. I am afraid we have no choice.”
She pressed a hand to her belly, biting her lip, a little breathless, he thought.
He turned back to the man, nodded his thanks, and scooped Mary Catherine off her feet and into his arms. He deposited her gently into the saddle, held her waist until she seemed to get her balance. It surprised him when she changed position, moving one leg to the other side so she sat astride, rather than sidesaddle, but he made no comment as he then bent to adjust the stirrups for her. A second later, he swung easily onto his own mount.
Then he turned to her. “Hold to the pommel, lady, and hand the reins to me.”
She gripped the pommel until her knuckles were white as Alexandre set his horse into motion at a slow, easy pace.
“Great,” she muttered. “So I suppose I’m stuck here on this animal’s back until we get to the nearest motel, right?”
“Quite wrong, dear lady. We will be far less likely to be discovered if we make camp in yonder woods. Very deep in them, I should think.”
“But...but, Al, I’m hungry. We haven’t eaten. And we don’t have blankets or...or anything.’“
“We have all we need, Mary Catherine.” He looked back at her, wondering how a woman could be so capable and yet so utterly helpless at the same time. “Have no fear. I am your Musketeer, Lady Hammer. I will feed you and keep you warm. On my sword, I will.”
He saw her pale, and then her throat moved as if she were trying to swallow and couldn’t.