CHAPTER 21

The startling warning had Victoria gasping her shock. Confused, alert, she tightened her grip on her gun and quickly looked to Spencer … who, strangely, looked more perturbed and disgusted than he did alert to danger. At first, Victoria could make no sense of this. But then, her mind finally identified the voice, and she could have cried in relief.

Spencer ran a hand over his eyes. Looking very bleak, he said, quietly, to her: “The man is an idiot. I ought to shoot him myself.”

“Don’t you dare! That’s Edward around the corner of the house, isn’t it?”

“Of course it’s Edward. Do you know any other idiots?” Spencer pointed at her. “Do not feel compelled to answer that.” He followed this by calling out to his cousin: “Edward, you fool, it’s us. Victoria and me.”

“I heard a gun being fired,” he called back from his hiding place, obviously around the far corner of the Atherton house.

Again, Spencer muttered something no doubt unflattering under his breath. “We heard a gun being fired, too,” he called out. “Why do you think we’re out here?”

“You came rushing out to the middle of the street, after hearing a gun being fired? That doesn’t seem too brilliant.”

“We did not simply rush outside, Edward,” Spencer was saying. “And, apparently, whoever fired a gun did so in no relation to us because there appears to be no danger out here now except for that which you pose. Furthermore, since you mentioned being less than brilliant, Your Lordship, I feel compelled to point out that you cannot, by yourself, surround three people—”

“Two people and a dog,” Victoria corrected … without thinking.

Spencer darted his exasperated gaze her way but said nothing to her as he continued his harangue of his cousin. “Unless you have enlisted the horses on your side and have armed them and conveyed your intentions to them somehow and spread them out around us, you alone cannot have us surrounded, Edward.”

To Victoria’s ear, Spencer sounded like an angry little boy who has been forced, yet again, to stop the game in progress and explain, once more, the simple rules to a particularly dull playmate. With Spencer, she waited for Edward’s reply. He always had one. But this time … nothing. She looked to Spencer, who quirked his lips together in a clear sign of impatience.

“Edward?” Spencer’s sharp bark of sound was met with continued silence. Victoria heard the metallic clicking that she recognized as that of a gun being cocked … and it was Spencer doing so. A sudden resurgence of fear tightened her chest and her grip on her gun.

Just then, Neville passed into her line of vision as he padded back across the street. His business in the square apparently conducted, the bloodhound stopped on the sidewalk in front of the Atherton house. His great head was cocked to one side in curiosity as he stared approximately where Edward would make an appearance, if he actually did. As the dog’s tail stopped wagging and he gave an impression of heightened wariness, something fearful quickened inside Victoria.

“Edward?” Spencer called out again, his tone exploratory. He waited another second or two and then added, “Come out this instant before I feel compelled to come over there and thrash the daylights out of you.”

And still, nothing happened. Victoria spared Neville another glance. He stood stock-still, every muscle tensed, his head up and alert. Victoria moved closer to Spencer and clutched at his sleeve. “Spencer,” she all but whispered, “look at Neville.”

Though Spencer never looked away from the far corner of the Atherton house across the way, he said: “I see him. Get behind me.” He darted his gaze to her. “And don’t argue.”

“But Neville, Spencer,” she whimpered, frightened for them all.

“He’s a smart dog. A fighter. He can take care of himself. Now, do it, Victoria. Get behind me. And try not to shoot me in the back with that gun you’re dangling about.”

Minding her weapon, Victoria did as ordered and positioned herself behind her husband … but she did peek around his solid bulk. Several quiet seconds ticked off the clock. Nothing happened. Then, one second he wasn’t there, and the next he was. Edward appeared from around the side of the house, weaponless, his hands in the air. “Oh, Spencer, I don’t like how this looks,” Victoria whispered.

“I don’t, either,” Spencer drawled, his attention still fixed on his cousin. “Victoria, quickly now, get away from me and go to the square. Hurry. Get behind a tree and stay there until … it’s all over and I tell you to come out.”

Fearful heartache gripped her. “No, I will not, Spencer. I won’t leave you. I won’t. Whatever happens, we’ll face it together.”

“This is no time for silly bravery, Victoria. Now, go.”

“You’re the one being brave and silly, making yourself a target like this. Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing. I won’t go unless you go with me.”

Spencer made a sound of disgust. “I cannot run and hide. It’s too late for that. Whoever is responsible—and I think we both know who is—for Edward being unarmed and with his hands up has already seen us, or he wouldn’t have a need to present Edward as his hostage. I am in a stronger position to remain standing here where he can clearly see me and so may not feel a need to do something dramatic and fatal, like shoot Edward, to get me to show my—”

He’d cut off his own words and inhaled sharply. “Look who’s decided to join Edward. Just as we feared.”

Victoria directed her gaze southward to the Atherton house and saw, standing close behind Edward, a tall, brown-haired man.

“Oh, no,” she said on her exhalation. Though she wasn’t the least bit surprised, though they’d been expecting him all along, she was still shocked. Here then was the showdown. It just didn’t seem real, not here in the quiet, elegant streets of Savannah, surrounded by tall oaks and neat beds of flowers. “Loyal Atherton. As sure as I’m alive, he’s got a gun on Edward.”

“Yes, he does.”

From the angle of Edward’s bent head, it was obvious to Victoria that Loyal was talking to him. Apparently, the heartless villain thought his appearance and the gun he held to Edward’s back was sufficient to keep her and Spencer in place for the moment. And he was right—it was. “What is Edward doing?”

“If I know him, he’s trying to talk the honorable”—this said very sarcastically—“Mr. Atherton out of killing him and me. I don’t think he’s going to be able to do so, not at this late date.”

Though despair filled her, making her want to lie down in the middle of the street and curl up in a tiny, whimpering ball, Victoria stood strong. “Sometimes I wish Miss Cicely was wrong, Spencer. She said he would be here. He was the one who fired that gun, wasn’t he?”

“Yes. He was shooting at us is my guess. And I suspect—belatedly, stupidly—that there’s a brick on the Atherton house, one right next to the parlor window, with a chunk shot out of it. He saw us inside, embracing, became enraged and fired his gun; then heard Edward coming, ran off around the near corner of his house and circled around behind him. It’s the only thing that makes sense. However, if the man is a poor enough marksman to miss a target the size of that plate-glass window, then there is hope for us all.”

What he didn’t say, but what Victoria realized, was there was hope for her and Spencer, standing so far away, but not for Edward, who stood mere inches from Loyal. “I hate this, Spencer, that it would come to this. All this time I thought it had to do with Jefferson—”

“It does. But Mr. Atherton has needed you for his scheme to work. And now, with you married, it’s all fallen apart … unless he can eliminate me—and Edward, an inconvenient witness—then concoct some story for the public and the law, and coerce you into marrying him.”

“I would never—”

“I know that. But he’s insane, remember. And that makes him very dangerous.”

Victoria’s next thought brought determination to her stance. She stood taller. What she intended to do next might be foolhardy, or much worse, but she had to make the attempt. “All right, then, it’s me he wants.” Gathering her courage, she stepped around Spencer’s protective body. “I’ll go to him. I’ll talk to him, tell him about the baby and make him see— Ack!”

Spencer had pulled her to him. His nose was now mere inches from hers as he snarled: “Over my dead body, Victoria.”

“That is exactly what I’m trying to avoid, Spencer,” she hissed.

“Once he gets you, he’ll have no qualms about killing me and Edward.”

Though her knees went watery with fear, Victoria stuck to her determination to be the one to end this awful scene. “But he has no qualms now. You said so yourself.” She was very nearly in tears. “Let me go to him. Maybe I can reason with him—”

“You are going nowhere near that Atherton bastard! I will die first.”

Victoria hit his arm hard with her fist. “You big, idiot man, I will not just stand here and allow—”

“Stop it.” His grip on her had tightened. “We have to see what Loyal Atherton wants, Victoria. We don’t have a choice. We must be alert and smart—and look for a chance.”

“What chance? He has Edward, as you said.”

“But Edward is not without his tricks. He’s eluded more than one angry man with a gun pointed at him. Usually it was an irate husband, granted. But, nevertheless, Edward is experienced. I think our other chance lies with Neville, whom our villain seems to be ignoring.”

“Neville?” Victoria made a feint to turn to see. “Where is Neville—?”

“Don’t look. Not yet.” Spencer’s tug on her arm gained him her attention. “Does Neville like Loyal Atherton?”

“No. Not since Loyal kicked him when Neville was no more than a half-grown puppy and made a mistake when Jeff and Loyal were hunting. Neville never got over it. We had to lock him up when Loyal visited. Neville would actually stalk him and try to bite him.”

Looking grim, though satisfied, Spencer nodded. “That explains his behavior now.” With a wag of his chin, he indicated the direction of the Atherton house. “Be very discreet, but look at your dog.”

Victoria did, shifting her gaze from the two men across the street to Neville. He had vacated the street and was padding quietly up the steps to the porch of the Atherton house. He could, and in one great bound, Victoria reasoned, jump up onto the wide, flat top of the porch rail and, from there, launch himself onto Loyal—who was armed and hated the dog.

Victoria’s heart nearly stopped beating … all this crazy bravery on the part of her men. If they all survived this, she intended to kill every one of them herself for putting her through this. Despair entered her heart, telling her she was the one who had set them on the path that led inexorably to being here at this moment and with no other choices facing them. The pain of that knowledge was almost more than she could bear. She had to do something to end this—

“Sorry, old man, for this,” Edward suddenly called out to Spencer.

Spencer shoved Victoria behind him. “Here we go,” he whispered to her. Victoria again poked her head around her husband’s solid body, just enough to see. Spencer called out to his cousin: “No need to apologize. I’ll take it out of your hide later, Your Lordship.”

“I certainly hope you get the chance, Your Grace—Aww.” Edward’s abrupt sound of pain and awkward twist of his body came as Loyal evidently shoved the butt of his pistol into the earl’s back.

“Shut up,” Loyal growled at Edward, loud enough for his voice to carry. “I am done arguing with you, sir.” He then focused on Spencer. “You will get rid of your weapon, Your Grace, or I’ll use mine on the earl. Throw your gun over to the grass in the square. Do it now.”

Spencer hesitated only a second before tossing his gun away, just as Loyal had ordered. Victoria’s mind shrieked an instant protest for her now-unarmed husband. Reacting on daring instinct, yet terrified her suddenly nerveless and fumbling fingers would cause her to drop her gun to the street, Victoria stealthily poked it in the back of Spencer’s waistband.

He inhaled sharply. “Victoria, what are you doing? You might need your gun—”

“No. Shhh. It’s all right,” she whispered back. “I have another one with me. It’s stuck in my pants pocket.”

Standing tall and brave, Spencer grunted a chuckle. “You are a wonderfully cunning woman, Victoria Whitfield. And very frightening.”

Smiling, overcome, she momentarily allowed herself the comfort of touching Spencer. Pressing her palm against his back and feeling his muscled warmth, she kissed him through his shirt. “I love you,” she whispered, hoping against hope that Spencer did not have to find out that she had lied. She didn’t have another weapon on her.

“Victoria! Come over here right now.”

Loyal Atherton’s shouted order thoroughly incensed Victoria. How dare he? “I will not. You can go straight to hell in a handbasket, Loyal Atherton.”

Spencer inhaled sharply. “Are you certain it’s wise to—”

“Hush,” she whispered urgently. “Maybe I can fix this.” She then said loudly: “Loyal, you put that gun down right now, you hear me? We know everything you’ve done, but nothing’s happened yet that can’t be forgiven. But if you shoot one of us, you can’t take that back.”

“But I’m not going to shoot you, Victoria. I love you and need you.”

“You what?” Anger and outrage propelled Victoria around Spencer. She heard him gasp and felt him reach for her, but she surged forward, out of his reach. As she talked, she walked … slowly, threateningly, toward Loyal Atherton. “You don’t need me, Loyal. What you need is for me to marry you so you’ll have access to my daddy’s money.”

“What are you talking about, Victoria? That’s not true.” Loyal pulled Edward back a few steps with him.

“It is true. All those shady deals you got mixed up in—and involved my brother in—are losing money now. You’re going to be exposed to all of Savannah and ruined. A lot of these fine people here are going to lose money, too, based on your schemes. Why, they’ll tar and feather you, if they don’t lynch you first.”

“You’re talking crazy, Victoria.” Loyal sounded scared and a little erratic. He couldn’t seem to settle his gaze on her. Instead, he kept looking from Victoria to Edward and over his own shoulder. “That Englishman has turned your mind against me—”

“No he hasn’t, Loyal. My mind was turned against you long before I ever knew my husband.”

“Don’t call him your husband!” Clearly agitated now, and still clutching the back of Edward’s frock coat, Loyal pulled him back several more steps with him.

He was retreating from her, Victoria realized. Was he afraid of her? It could be, but though her heart raced with fear, too, Victoria knew she could not let it show on her face or in her voice. Right now the only weapon she had was her bravado. “But I have to call him my husband, Loyal, because he is. And I’m going to have his baby. You wouldn’t shoot a pregnant woman, would you? Not one you need because of her daddy’s money?”

While Loyal made strangled noises of shock or disbelief, Victoria chanced a darting look into Edward’s brown eyes and saw equal measures of fear and admiration there. With no more than a quirk of her lips, she smilingly acknowledged his trust in her. Edward flicked his eyes to his right. What…? Victoria tested the limits of her peripheral vision—and caught a glimpse of her husband close behind her. No wonder Loyal was retreating. But for how long would he? How long, or how far, would it take for him to remember he had the advantage in his grip? The Earl of Roxley.

“We’ll get rid of these two now, Victoria,” Loyal argued, indicating with nods of his head Spencer and Edward. “And when this baby comes, we’ll get rid of it, too. I’ll give you other babies. You won’t even miss it.”

Even as she heard Spencer’s gasp and saw Edward’s outraged expression, Victoria fought a scream of horror. Dear God, the lengths he would go to in order to get what he wanted! Victoria had all she could do not to drop to her knees and retch. Now that she was close enough to see the huge bruise on Loyal’s jaw where Spencer had hit him days ago, Victoria wished she’d never stopped Spencer from pounding the life out of him.

“No, Loyal, you won’t give me babies.” Her voice was a snarl of contempt and disgust. “The idea alone of you ever touching me again makes my skin crawl.”

“Don’t say that, Victoria.” Loyal’s shout of emotional pain was somehow inhuman. His brown eyes appeared hollow and sunken into their sockets. But then, his expression hardened. “If you keep saying lies like that, Victoria, I’ll shoot this man right here, right now, in the back of the head.” He moved his gun to the back of Edward’s head. “You know you love me. Don’t lie!”

“No, don’t!” Terrified, sweating, weak in her knees, Victoria held a placating hand out to Loyal. She’d gone too far. Quickly, she backtracked. “All right, Loyal, I won’t lie. But you have to tell me the truth, too. Remember, I know how you need my money to cover your losses and your bad business deals.”

Peering around Edward, who was shorter than he was, Loyal protested: “It’s not just money, Victoria. I love you. I do.”

She realized then that he probably did, in his own sick and twisted way. But just the thought of it made her want to die … or bathe. “Then why are you doing all of this, Loyal? Why? Think of the people you’ve hurt—”

“I haven’t hurt anyone.” For whatever reason, perhaps a tired arm, he lowered his gun from Edward’s head, but only so far as his back.

“But you have.” Victoria’s voice choked on her emotion. “You hurt my brother, and he loved you like a brother. And Jenny … Oh, Loyal, how could you have made her write such a letter as you did? How could you take advantage of her and Jeff’s pain like that? How?”

“So you found Jenny.” It wasn’t a question. Loyal’s frown of distaste twisted his features into an ugly mask.

Victoria shook her head. “No. Jenny found her way home in the middle of the night, and Miss Cicely sent for me this morning. Jenny told me all about how you’d been holding her prisoner so my brother and Jenny’s family wouldn’t act against you. But Jenny escaped that sharecropper’s cabin where you took her. We know all about Tillie’s family being paid to hold her and keep their mouths shut. We also know how Tillie kept you informed of our comings and goings. She put the notes on my pillow, too. Oh, Loyal, my mother is going to be very hurt that her compassion for Tillie was so abused.”

“Compassion? How much compassion would she have had for that colored child of Jeff’s and Jenny’s? That’s right—he and Jenny are lovers. How’s your lily-white mother going to feel about that?”

So close was she now to Loyal and Edward that Victoria had to stop walking or run up against them. Loyal could go no farther, either. One more step and he would be off the sidewalk and literally in the tall and woody shrubs that fronted his house. Victoria, despite her heightened emotions, was very much aware of Edward in front of her, Spencer at her back, and Neville, hidden off to her right. While Edward and Spencer might realize what she was doing, she knew the dog didn’t—and he could jump at any moment. If he did, they’d better all be ready.

“I don’t how she’ll feel about that, Loyal. But I know about Sofie. And I know Jeff should never have confided in you all those years ago about her. But Jenny told me the truth: Sofie died from a high fever when she was an infant. I know now that my brother loves Jenny and that’s why he’s never married. He can’t bring himself to abandon the one woman he does love. And you knew that. And you waited, all these years, to use that knowledge against him. How could you? You ought to be glad Jefferson isn’t here right now because he’d tear your head off and feed it to my daddy’s hogs.”

“Ha. Jefferson’s a coward. He’s not going to do a thing. I could always make him do what I wanted.”

“Jeff couldn’t do anything, not with you holding Jenny and as good as blackmailing him.”

“I never did. Jeff and I were going to be business partners, and I was going to be married to you. We had it all planned out. Your whole family wanted that at one time. I could have had the respect and standing in this city that I deserve—”

“But you do have that.” The suspense of wondering when Neville would jump had Victoria on edge. There was no way she could call the dog off—and no way the dog could know that his jumping on his old enemy could get Edward, and maybe her and Spencer, killed.

“I don’t have standing in Savannah,” Loyal cried. “You know that. In this city, if your family didn’t come over from England with Oglethorpe, you’re a newcomer. An outsider. I was tolerated, but I was never accepted, not in the ways that mattered.”

Though she knew he was right—Savannah was endearingly, maddeningly that way—she still asked, just stalling for time: “What ways are those, Loyal?”

“In the men’s societies and the social circles and in the finest homes—”

“But you had access to all of those.”

“Only because of your family’s influence and insistence on my inclusion. But then you ruined everything when you wouldn’t have me. And now I’m an outcast. The invitations don’t come anymore. And I’m going to lose everything. Because of you.”

“No, Loyal. You’re going to lose everything because of you. Because of your own crookedness and weakness and illegal business deals. And the scandal you caused regarding me. The good people of Savannah will see you now for what you really are—a scoundrel. None of this is my fault. It’s all yours.”

Loyal had been getting more and more upset. Spittle flecked the corners of his mouth, and his eyes were wild with insanity … but then he calmed and stared at Victoria, his expression showing he’d suffered a revelation. “Yes it is. It is your fault. I should have thought of that. You’re the one I should kill.”

*   *   *

“You’d make a big mistake in killing her, Mr. Atherton,” Spencer said, his voice a low growl of warning as he drew the man’s attention his way.

“Brave words coming from an unarmed man,” Loyal Atherton taunted, laughing crazily and shoving Edward forward a step as if to prove he knew he had the advantage.

“Not so unarmed as you’d think.” Spencer pulled Victoria to him and backed up several steps. He needed space and distance … for accuracy. As he did, he reached behind him with his other hand, freed the pistol Victoria had stuck in his waistband—and pointed it at her head. Her gasp of shock accompanied Edward’s and even Loyal Atherton’s.

“Spencer, what are you doing!” she cried.

“My God, man!” Edward blurted, looking horrified. “Have you taken leave of your senses?”

Spencer ignored the cries of protest. He kept his attention riveted on Loyal Atherton, even as he cocked the pistol he held to his wife’s head. Not even her shaking body and her whimpers of fear could distract him. “Release my cousin, Mr. Atherton, and I mean right now. I’m willing to trade Victoria for his life. You let him go, I’ll give her over to you—”

“No, Spencer. Oh, God, no,” Victoria cried. “What are you saying? Why are you doing this? I love you!”

“Shut up, Victoria.” Spencer said it savagely and then continued his conversation with Loyal Atherton. “Once my cousin is free and you allow us to leave, Mr. Atherton, what happens thereafter—right here, between you and Jefferson Redmond or Mr. Redmond, or all of Savannah, for that matter—will be none of my concern.”

“Spencer, what has got into you?” Edward’s mouth pulled down with abject disappointment. “I would rather die at this man’s hand than be any part of your heinous scheme. Have you no honor?”

“I’m trying to save your life, Edward. I’d think you’d be grateful.”

“Grateful? If this man does turn me loose, I’ll kill you myself. I swear I will.”

Spencer’s expression never changed. “You can try.” He turned his attention back to Loyal Atherton.

The color had bled from the man’s face, and his gaze darted from Victoria’s ineffectually wriggling body in Spencer’s grasp to Spencer himself. “You’re bluffing. You wouldn’t shoot her.”

“I might. And where would that leave you? You still need her for your plan to work. I, however, no longer need her. I have her dowry. And I’m certain Mr. Redmond would be willing to settle another sizable one on her. If she marries you, Mr. Redmond is likely to cover your debts and hush a scandal up, if only for his daughter’s sake. After all, he did just that for me.”

Victoria wrenched ineffectually in his grasp. Her voice choked with tears. “My father never would! He’d kill you first, Loyal Atherton. I’ll tell him the truth of what you did to me and how it really happened. And I promise you he’ll come after you—”

“Shut up, Victoria.” Spencer flexed the arm he had around her middle, effectively whooshing her air out and quieting her. She went limp, her feet stumbling over his. Spencer relaxed his grip but still held on to her tightly.

“Victoria’s right,” Loyal Atherton said, not loosening his grip on Edward. “And how could I marry her, if she’s married to you?”

Spencer felt a thrill race through him. The crazy bastard was listening to him. This just might work. In only moments, Edward could be freed, and this awful business concluded. “I will have our marriage annulled.”

“Why would you do that? How could you?”

“Simple. You see—and this is why I’ll be pleased to bargain her life for my cousin’s—the baby she carries is yours, not mine.” Spencer watched as Loyal Atherton’s and Edward’s mouths became perfect O’s. He felt Victoria freeze in his grip. “She knew it when she married me. That makes our marriage a sham, so an annulment will be easy. And you forget … I am a duke, which means the matter can be expedited.”

“If this is true, why did you accost me the other day? Why were you so jealous? You act now as if you don’t care about her, but you certainly did that day.”

“True,” Spencer said smoothly, “but I was merely pretending to care about her until I had reasoned this situation out. I only hit you once, which was all I intended to do, and that only as a mere show. It would be expected because you were, after all, kissing my wife. But Victoria quickly came to your defense and hit me over my head with a flower vase. You sustained a bruised jaw, sir. But I fell victim to a concussion at her hands.”

“I should have killed you,” Victoria said quite clearly. Spencer ignored her, still watching Loyal Atherton … and waiting.

“When did you find out the baby was mine?” he asked.

“She has been pregnant since we’ve been married. Whose baby do you think it is? Certainly not mine.”

Edward shook his head slowly and stared at Spencer as if he’d never seen him before. Spencer spared him but a glance looking past him to his captor, whose expression reflected his consideration of Spencer’s details. “You said she hit you to come to my defense. Why would she do that when she wouldn’t even have me? When she wouldn’t marry me? Even a moment ago she said she hated me.”

“And she may well. But if I won’t have her and her baby is yours, I don’t think her pride will stand in her way, do you? She’ll marry you or raise a bastard.”

“I’ll raise a bastard,” Victoria said, again quite clearly and unhelpfully. “But what I will not do is stand here another minute and listen to you. Personally, I hate you both, so there.”

With that, she stomped down, apparently as hard as she could, on Spencer’s arch and ground her heel against his bones. Bellowing, he jerked back. She whirled out of his grasp and gave a piercing whistle, followed by: “Sic ’im, boy. Get ’im, Neville! Now!”

In a flying leap that stretched his body out to its capacity, the dog, all teeth and snarls, jumped off the porch. In the next second, a gun fired, the dog yelped piteously, twisted in the air, and landed with a thud in a flowerbed. Victoria screamed and grabbed the gun out of Spencer’s numb hand. “Victoria, no!” he shouted hoarsely.

He grabbed for her, but she was too quick for him as she whirled on Loyal Atherton and held the pistol in both hands, out in front of her and at shoulder height. “You son of a bitch! You killed my dog!”

Spencer overcame his shock enough to turn to Edward and Loyal. The two men were involved in a rousing bout of fisticuffs. Instant logic told Spencer that when Loyal had moved the gun away from Edward to shoot Neville, Edward had turned on the man and grabbed his gun hand, which he now held up, his arm stretched out, in an ineffectual pose. Hitting each other with their free hands, they turned around and around—and kept Victoria from getting off a clean shot. But she was trying. She kept circling them and looking. The expression on her face said no one had better interfere.

Spencer did the only thing he could do. He tackled Edward and Loyal, sending them all three flying out into the bruising street, which fortunately was not paved with cobblestones. They landed hard, grunting and struggling and teeth bared. Over and over they rolled, an intimate mass of three sweating, frantic bodies, all punching the other and trying for the gun and no one winning. It seemed to go on forever. Then, suddenly and somehow, Loyal Atherton broke away—and still had the gun. He staggered to his feet and stood looking down on Edward and Spencer there on the hard-packed dirt of the street. His gun was trained on them both … his finger was on the trigger.

“Loyal.” It was just a single word, said almost quietly.

The man’s head came up; he seemed to be listening.

“Turn around, Loyal. Like you said, I’m the one you should kill, not them. And you have to admit, this has been a long time coming between me and you.”

Spencer scrambled to untangle himself from Edward. But his limbs seemed weighted with lead, his movements slow. He could not extricate himself. Fear seized him … there was nothing he could do in time to save her. Victoria was going to die, right here in front of him. Spencer bellowed “No!” as Loyal Atherton, his intentions plain on his scratched and reddened and snarling face, spun around to Victoria, his gun held at the ready.

Two shots rang out, unnaturally loud and echoing in the otherwise deserted streets of Savannah. Time stood still; Spencer’s heart froze. Then, Loyal Atherton staggered back but still stood on his feet, his back to Spencer and Edward, who had grabbed Spencer’s arm in terror. Suddenly, the man’s bones seemed to melt as he did a slow spin, turning to face Spencer and Edward.

A bloom of bright red spread down his shirt from his shoulder … but there was also a neat, round bullet hole that marked the exact center of his forehead. He fell dead to the ground, his body bouncing once before it lay still, not two feet from Spencer and Edward. With him no longer blocking their view, Spencer, along with his cousin, jerked his attention to Victoria, who’d obviously fired twice to Loyal’s none.

Staring back at them, she stood unwounded, the smoking gun in her hand, and said, quite calmly: “He shot my dog.”