Each Time We Love (49 page)

Adam's attacker had chosen his site well and had been waiting
for him in a dark, rank alley, revealing his presence only when the
trap was sprung. Fighting to stay on his feet, Adam suddenly became
aware that there were two men, their voices echoing painfully inside
his head.

"Goddammit! Don't kill him! We're just supposed to beat him
up! We ain't being paid enough to
kill!"

"I ain't taking no chances. He's a damned big bloke and I
wants him softened up afore I lays my weapon down and see how handy he
is with his fives!"

"Never mind that! Grab him! Grab him! Quick, drag him back
here, where they're waiting!"

Adam felt rough hands lay hold of him and hustle him swiftly
down the alley. It was to his advantage to appear stunned, and since he
wasn't far from that state, it seemed simpler to go along with them
rather than fight. But he used the time it took them to drag and push
him down the twisting alley to gather his senses and prepare himself
for the battle that was to come.

The note had been a bait for him after all, and like a green
boy, he'd let his fear for Savanna blind him to dangers outside the
tavern. Furious with himself, he ignored his aching head and vowed
fiercely that someone was going to be in for a very big surprise. It
was obvious that the men who held him prisoner were only hired bullies,
and from their conversation it was also apparent that the beating for
which these fellows had been hired wouldn't be administered until the
three of them had reached wherever "they" were waiting.

Adam became aware of the faint glow of lantern light and
almost immediately he was flung violently forward and landed painfully
on the filthy floor of the alley. He started to spring to his feet, but
a boot connected brutally with his ribs before glancing off his head,
nearly knocking him out. Trying desperately to clear his head, Adam
only barely heard the exchange going on over his prostrate body.

"Is this the fellow?" one of his captors growled.

In the faint light of the lantern set on a low post, Adam
risked a look, but could only make out two heavily cloaked shapes. They
remained in the shadowy darkness out of reach of the lantern's light,
and beyond the fact that there were two of them, he could tell little
about them, until he heard Betsey's breathless "Oh, yes! That's him!
Now
beat
him!"

The two men instantly set to work with a will, and, caught at
a distinct disadvantage on the ground, too busy trying to protect
himself to take offensive action, Adam suffered several vicious blows
and kicks to his head and ribs. Dimly he was aware of Betsey's
delighted laughter in the background. "Yes! Yes! Kick him again!
Again!
Make him bleed! I want him to bleed."

Her voice a cruel litany in his head, eventually Adam managed
to roll away and stagger upright to his feet. Groggy and in severe
pain, he stood there swaying in the flickering glow of the lantern.
Icily furious and so filled with a fierce need to give as good as he
had got, he forgot the weapons he had brought with him.

With a snarl he charged the two men, his powerful fists
violently pummeling indiscriminately left and right. His charge
surprised them, and in the scramble to avoid those lethal fists, one of
his assailants fell down. Despite his pain, Adam grinned and aimed a
savage kick at the fellow's head even as he continued to rain blow
after telling blow upon the other man.

This was not what the two assailants had been led to expect
and they were utterly undone. They were bullies and jackals, not
fighters, and had not planned on their prey inflicting any hurt on
them. Filled with sullen resentment at the way things were turning out,
they began to retreat, but Adam would have none of it.

Not allowing them any room to escape, he sent a fist flying
into the nose of the upright man, another into his mouth, and as that
fellow yowled and, holding his face, stumbled backward, Adam turned his
savage attention to the man on the ground, who was attempting to rise.
Calmly he sent a boot smashing into the creature's belly. When the man
groaned and doubled over clutching his belly, Adam said impersonally,
"Doesn't feel very good, does it, my good man?"

There was silence, except for the faint groans of the beaten
men, as Adam stood there swaying slightly from his battering, but his
fists were clenched and ready. His two assailants were clearly no
longer a threat, and it was then that Charles rushed him, his malacca
cane upraised to strike. Unfortunately, Charles was no fighter, and
Adam deftly avoided the cane and contemptuously knocked him out with
one brutal punch.

As Adam's fist connected with Charles's handsome chin, Charles
gave a funny little sigh and collapsed onto the floor of the filthy
alley, his black cloak billowing out around him. Dispassionately, Adam
stared down at his fallen enemy, disgust and a deep weariness that went
beyond pain washing over him.

He glanced over to where he knew Betsey still lurked in the
darkness. "Happy, my dear?" he asked with deceptive lightness.

Betsey remained mute, but one of his original assailants
whined, "Well, I sure ain't! You was supposed to be a dandy, a way to
earn some easy money, and now all I've got to show for it is a busted
nose and an aching lip. Don't seem fair."

Adam cocked an eyebrow. "Oh, I'm sure that if you check your,
er, patron's pockets you will probably find enough to satisfy you. In
his present condition, I doubt he will object."

The two men looked at each other and grinned. "Why, that's
right generous of you!" Like the scavengers they were, ignoring Adam,
they fell upon Charles and proceeded to strip him of anything valuable.

Betsey could stand it no longer, and stepping out into the
glow of the lantern, she cried, "Stop it, you monsters! Leave him
alone! Stop it this instant!"

It proved to be a horrible mistake on her part. The hood of
her cloak had fallen back and the lantern light fell full on her
gleaming blond hair and lovely face. The two men, who had been busily
lifting Charles of anything of value, turned to stare at her, their
mouths going slack at the sight of this vision of loveliness here in
this sordid, wretched little alley. Avarice faded from their eyes as
they stared at her, lust clearly overtaking them.

One of them rose to his feet and murmured, "Well, well, what
have we here? As plump and pretty a little dove as I have ever seen."

Betsey realized her error and shrank back, but it was too
late. The other man stood, too, and began to advance upon her. "Now, I
think that a piece of this little dolly would go a
long
way to making me resigned to what happened." He stopped uncertainly and
glanced back at Adam. "That's if you don't have any objections?"

Adam looked at Betsey coldly, the knowledge that this woman
had murdered his child burning hotly, brightly, in his mind. The memory
of Savanna's white face as he had sat by her bed last night fearing
that she would die was also in his thoughts, and he said
disinterestedly, "No, I have no objections."

The two thugs snickered lewdly. One of them reached out with a
grimy paw and touched Betsey's breast. "Not here," the other said
roughly. "Let's take her where we can enjoy her all night."

Betsey gasped, her eyes wide with outrage.

"And where would that be?" Adam asked, only faintly curious.

"We have a boat, the
Merry Madam,
docked
not far from the Broken Sword."

Looking at the brutish, grimy faces of his onetime assailants,
Adam could imagine just what sort of squalid vessel they owned.
Somehow, after all she had done to those he loved most, it seemed a
fitting place for Betsey Asher. Sending Betsey one last cold, detached
glance, Adam shrugged and, turning on his heel, began to walk away.
"Just don't kill her," he said calmly. "I want her to live a long time."

A ludicrous expression on her face, Betsey stared after his
departing figure. Impatiently slapping away the hands that reached for
her, she stamped her foot and cried angrily, "Adam! You can't possibly
leave me here with these filthy oafs!"

Adam stopped and turned around. The brilliant blue eyes
surveyed her coldly. He smiled suddenly, a tiger's deadly smile. "Oh,
but I can, sweetheart," he said softly. He bowed with insulting disdain
and began once more to walk away. Ignoring Betsey's outraged shriek,
his mind full of thoughts of his wife and his dead child, he never
faltered in his steps or slowed as he left the alley.

It was only when he had reached the safety of his rooms that
the iron hold he had kept on himself was allowed to crack, and ignoring
Jake's and Dooley's horrified exclamations, he collapsed with a groan
on the sofa, every bone and muscle in his body screaming with pain.
Briefly he explained what had happened, and after assuring them he
would live, he dismissed them. Not wanting Savanna to find him in this
condition, he staggered upright and slowly walked into the dressing
room. It was too late to order a bath, but wincing from the effort, he
stripped off his fouled and filthy clothing, and after pouring some
tepid water from the china ewer into a matching bowl, he began to
gingerly clean his many cuts and bruises.

Savanna found him thus and her heart contracted painfully as
she caught sight of his poor, ruined face and the ugly black-and-blue
bruises that were springing up all over his body. Fear in her lovely
eyes, she rushed to him. "Jake gave me your note—it was a trap, wasn't
it?" she demanded anxiously. Taking the cloth from his limp hand, she
tenderly took over the job that he had abandoned.

Sinking down onto a stool nearby, Adam said wearily, "Oh, yes,
it was a trap—sprung by our dear friends, Charles and Betsey Asher!"

Savanna's lips thinned and in a low, vicious voice she said,
"I think I shall pay a call on Miss Asher tomorrow and tear every hair
from her head—and then throw
her
down the stairs!"

Adam smiled faintly. "After tonight, I doubt that Miss Asher
will want to come within a hundred miles of either one of us. Put her
from your mind."

Though she was full of curiosity, it was only when he was
lying beside her in the soothing darkness that Savanna ventured to
question him further. "What happened, Adam? Tell me. Everything."

Adam sighed and succinctly he told her what had transpired.
She was silent for a long minute when he finished speaking. Then she
touched him lightly, a butterfly's caress on his battered cheek. "I'm
glad you left her. It's what she deserved."

Adam yawned, flinching from the pain of his split lip.
Drowsily he murmured, "My thoughts precisely."

The next morning Adam's face was enough to make strong men
shudder, and viewing his still-swollen eye, puffed upper lip and
scraped cheekbone, he grimaced. Sourly he viewed the many bruises on
his body. Not even a hot bath had lessened his many aches, but he
wanted to leave for Campo de Verde as soon as possible and, wincing
painfully, he struggled manfully into his clothes.

Concern on her face, Savanna stared at him as he walked into
the sitting room. Despite his elegant clothes and powerful body, he
looked terrible, but he smiled when he saw her and Savanna felt a
glowing warmth spread through her.

She was wearing a most becoming gown of pale yellow muslin,
the lace-trimmed, fashionably low neckline revealing a tempting amount
of her magnificent bosom. There was more lace on the puffed sleeves and
she had woven a yellow silk ribbon amongst the fiery strands of her
glorious hair. She looked adorable.

Despite his many aches, Adam caught himself wishing that her
condition would allow him to make love to her, but sighing regretfully,
he pushed the thought away, saying instead, "I'm going to arrange to
hire a comfortable carriage for us, and if all goes well, perhaps we
can depart in the morning for Campo de Verde. Any objections?"

Savanna had none and Adam left on his errand. After he
accomplished his task, he returned to the hotel, and it was there that
he once again laid eyes on Charles Asher.

Charles, looking none the worse for his activities last night,
was talking earnestly to a handsome young man when Adam entered the
lobby. Blue eyes grim, Adam stalked over to the two men.

"Good morning, Charles," he said easily. "I trust that you are
feeling well after last night's escapade?"

Glancing up impatiently, Charles blanched when he caught sight
of Adam, and with satisfaction Adam noticed the faint bruise on his
chin. A sickly expression on his handsome face, Charles swallowed
painfully and, having no other choice, said nervously, "Yes. It was
most pleasant."

"And did the fair Betsey also enjoy herself last night?" Adam
asked silkily.

The young man beside Charles frowned. "Monsieur," he said,
looking at Charles, "I thought you said that Mademoiselle Betsey has
been most grievously ill and could not see me this morning."

Before Charles could answer, Adam broke in lightly. "Oh, but
that could not be! Why, I saw her just last night and she appeared to
be enjoying herself hugely. Wouldn't you say so, Charles?"

Paralyzed with rage and fear, Charles could only stare
helplessly at Adam's battered features. Contemptuously turning his back
on Charles, Adam said to the young man, "I am Adam St. Clair, and you
must be Pierre Michaud?"

Pierre smiled politely and nodded, clearly puzzled by the
situation. Glancing from one man to the other, he returned to the topic
that interested him most. "Mademoiselle Betsey is
not
ill?" he asked anxiously. "She will see me?"

Again it was Adam who spoke first. He had no desire to hurt
Pierre, but he also wasn't about to let Charles and Betsey regain any
lost ground. Pity in his blue eyes, he said softly, "Yes, she'll see
you. I believe that you will find her with her two, er, companions on
the
Merry Madame,
docked not far from the Broken
Sword Tavern near Girod Street."