Jenna Petersen - [Lady Spies] (24 page)

“I could have killed him a hundred times,” Tristan muttered. “I never had to do anything he asked. I could have ended this a year ago.”

Meredith moved closer, taking his hand as a stray bullet ricocheted near them. Ana pursed her lips and came up to fire her pistol.

“Tristan, with all the work you did, all the evidence you can provide us with, you will do much more to avenge your brother’s death than if you had simply cut Devlin down a year or more ago.” She squeezed his hand. “I realize you want his
blood, but it won’t wash away Edmund’s blood. It won’t bring your brother back.”

She cursed as another bullet rained shards of wood down on them. Popping up, she fired, and a man cried out.

“He won’t shoot using that arm again,” she muttered as she began to reload. Her blue eyes recaptured his, holding his gaze. “Tristan, do you understand what I’m saying?”

He pondered her words. She didn’t want him to take Devlin’s life only to avenge his brother. But that had been his goal for so long. How could he rest if it wasn’t done? He let his gaze focus on her again. She was watching him intently, waiting…and, he could see hoping as well.

Before he could answer, Ana whispered, “No more shooting.”

Tristan lifted his head.

A woman stood behind the crates, leveling a pistol at the remaining men who were not injured or worse. It was the lightskirt Meredith had pointed out as they journeyed down the dock earlier. Emily in disguise.

Emily shook her head, though her eyes never left her prisoners. “Are you coming out to help me, or are you going to take up residence behind those crates?”

Meredith jumped to her feet and hurried around to assist her friend. Tristan watched her go, Ana trailing behind. He sighed as he followed,
craning his neck to see which of the men had been injured or killed.

The man he shot first was definitely dead, lying in the same position where he’d fallen. One of the men Meredith hit was also dead, but the second cupped an injured arm while he howled like a baby.

Devlin and the other man were unharmed, scowling up at Meredith and Emily. Devlin’s eyes darted to Tristan. “You bastard.”

“Me, the bastard?” Tristan smiled as he thought of the fate that awaited Devlin. “I don’t think so. You’re the one committing treason. You’re the one responsible for my brother’s death.”

The other man’s eyes went wide with surprise.

“That’s right, Devlin. I climbed my way into your organization, made you believe I was on your side, and all along I was against you.” His smile grew. “Remember when your arms shipment sank?
I
was the one who anonymously passed the information of its location to the right people. Or when the courier with that large payment went missing?”

“You!” Devlin burst out, struggling as if about to get to his feet. When Meredith’s gun moved level with his face, he returned to his seated position against the stacked boxes.

“And now you’ll pay for all your crimes,” Meredith added. “Ana, go send for Charlie. I’m sure he’ll want to take these men to Newgate where they belong.”

“With pleasure,” Ana said, hurrying down the dock.

Devlin’s focus moved from Tristan to Meredith. His eyes narrowed, and Tristan could have killed him for the violent malice in his stare.

“Who are you?” he asked, low and dangerous.

“You’re not the only one with secrets,” Meredith replied with a little smile. “
I’m
the woman who is placing you under arrest. For crimes against King and Country. For treason. Emily, bind his hands.”

“With pleasure,” Emily said as she finished with Devlin’s partner, then stooped to deal with Devlin.

It only took a moment, just a flash, for everything to change. As Emily bent, Devlin abruptly rose up. His forehead hit her chin with a jolting blow, powerful enough that she staggered forward. Devlin caught her with one arm, her gun with the other, and got to his feet before Tristan or Meredith could take a step forward.

Meredith bit back a scream of horror as Devlin carefully maneuvered away from them. Emily was limp in his arms, unable to fight or run. Meredith couldn’t tell how badly she’d been injured.

“Let her go, Devlin,” Tristan cried.

“Release her or I swear I will blow a hole in you,” Meredith ordered. Her gun remained steady, but her voice trembled.

“And risk my shooting her first, or my using
her as a shield?” Devlin’s old smirk returned. “I think not.”

Tristan and Meredith exchanged a glance, and she saw the empathy in the eyes of the man she loved. Devlin was right, of course. Even though both of them had their pistols raised, they couldn’t risk the danger to Emily, who couldn’t protect herself in her unconscious state.

Devlin dragged her back along the dock, keeping his gun trained on her head. Meredith moved forward to follow when a clatter echoed behind her. Her fan had fallen from the folds of her skirt where it had been hidden. She saw Tristan’s eyes go wide at the sight of the six-inch blade protruding from the base.

She dropped down to scoop the weapon up, hiding the blade in her palm in the hopes Devlin hadn’t noticed. He seemed too busy gloating as he made his escape.

“If you take one step closer, I
will
kill her,” he promised.

Meredith raised her hands. “No! I’m putting my weapon down.” She sent a look to Tristan and whispered, “Don’t let go of yours.”

He nodded, lowering his gun to his side as she let hers rest on the dock, leaving the fan as her only weapon.

As she straightened, she watched in helpless horror as Devlin moved even farther away.

“How can we stop him?” she whispered.

Tristan quickly took in the scene, his gaze darting around like that of a highly trained spy.

“Devlin is about to come even with that pillar on the right,” he said softly, glancing at her. “When he does, I’ll shoot it.”

“No,” she insisted with a shake of her head. “If you shoot, he might kill Emily! Or the bullet could bounce the wrong way.”

He turned to face her while he watched Devlin from the corner of his eye. “If he gets out of our range, do you doubt he will kill Emily the moment he makes an escape?”

She hesitated, then her eyes dropped. “No, he’ll kill her the instant she is of no further use to him.”

Tristan lifted his weapon. “Once I distract him with my shot, throw your knife. I assume you have good aim with that thing.”

She nodded even as she stared at him. Tristan’s weapon was leveled on Devlin. Her heart skittered. Would he take this last chance at revenge, even though it could end her best friend’s life?

A ragged breath escaped her lips. “I have faith in you.”

He glanced her way from the corner of his eye. “I know.”

Then he pulled the trigger.

M
eredith released her held breath in relief when the worn wooden pillar beside Devlin’s head shattered. He yelped, turning away from the spray of splinters that flew in every direction. She said a short prayer, then threw her knife.

She watched the weapon circle end over end in the air before it hit its mark. Devlin’s exposed throat.

The gun clattered from his hand as he let out a sickening gurgle. He dropped to his knees, and Emily’s limp body hit the dock with jarring force.

Meredith took off running, with Tristan at her heels. Kicking the weapon far from Devlin’s reach,
she sank down and gently lifted Emily’s head into her lap.

“Wake up,” she whispered, frowning at the ugly bruise already forming on Emily’s chin and the other that would certainly darken on her cheek. How badly was she hurt? A head injury could kill.

“Please,” she murmured, stroking hair away from her friend’s face. “Please.”

Tristan placed his hands on her shoulders as she stared at her still motionless partner. Tears stung her eyes while she waited, praying for some sign. Then, finally, Emily stirred and her eyes fluttered open.

“Did you stop him?” she whispered, wincing when she tried to sit up.

“Shhh,” Meredith soothed her. She glanced at Tristan and caught her breath. He stared at Devlin’s body. Could this be enough to fulfill the duty he believed he owed Edmund?

“Meredith?” Emily croaked.

She nodded, bringing her attention back to her friend. “Yes. He’s dead.”

Emily smiled as she shut her eyes.

Within moments a flurry of activity descended on the dock. Tristan was shoved aside as Ana returned, swiftly followed by Charlie and his men. There were questions to be asked, arguments to have.

Finally, Meredith made her way to Tristan. He
stood on the edge of the dock, staring out over the murky water. She hesitated before she touched his arm.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I hope you don’t feel I stole your revenge.”

He turned and his potent green stare held hers. “You were right, Meredith. His blood won’t bring Edmund back. My brother rested easy long ago. My quest to kill Devlin was about
my
peace, not Edmund’s.”

She bit her lip. “And can you find your peace now?”

His expression softened. “I found you.
You
are the one who brings me peace.”

Her eyes filled with joyful tears. “I love you,” she whispered as she curled her fingers into his hair and brought his mouth down on hers. “I love you.”

Charlie stacked a mound of paperwork on his desk with a nod. His eyes came up, snaring Meredith’s first, then Tristan’s.

“I believe everything is in order here. Lord Carmichael, it appears your story was correct. And while I don’t condone a gentleman involving himself in matters better left to officials, I do appreciate what you did to assist us.” He stood and offered a hand. “I hope you’ll accept both my thanks and my apologies.”

Meredith held her breath as she watched Tristan
rise. His face remained stern. “There is still the issue of Philip Barclay to be resolved. Have you removed the charges against him as well?”

Charlie nodded. “Your friend has already been released and escorted to your town home, where he awaits your arrival.”

Tristan’s face relaxed and he took Charlie’s offered hand. “Thank you, Mr. Isley.”

Her superior’s gaze came to her. Slowly, Meredith got to her feet. It had been over twelve hours since their encounter with Devlin and his men. Emily now rested comfortably, with no worse injury than a blackened eye and a pounding head. This was the final obstacle to overcome.

Charlie scowled. “I want to make it perfectly clear that Lady M and I do not condone what you did. I’ve had a stern discussion with Emily and Ana as well.”

She nodded. “I hope you realize this was all my doing, Charles. If a severe punishment is required, please let it rest solely on my shoulders.”

He opened his desk drawer and withdrew a letter. Her heart sank. Surely it was the notice of her dismissal. Then she caught sight of Tristan, watching the scene with silent concern. If she had lost her position, it had been worth it.

Charlie’s face softened. “This is from Lady M. It is her thanks for a job well done.”

Meredith reached for the letter with trembling hands and clutched it to her chest. “I—I’m not
dismissed?” she whispered as tears wet her cheeks.

“No. Your instincts were best, after all. That is why you were chosen as a spy.” Charlie touched her hand. She thought she saw moisture brighten his eyes before he cleared his throat and returned to his seat. “You shall be very busy, you and Ana and Emily. The evidence we obtained from Devlin’s surviving cohorts, his town home, and the information Lord Carmichael shared with us shall keep you working for months to come. I hope you’re ready.”

She nodded. “We’re always ready, Charlie.”

He looked at Tristan again. “Is there anything else we can do for you, my lord?”

Tristan nodded. “Yes, Isley, actually there is.”

“Name it.”

“Give Meredith and her friends a few weeks holiday before they start disseminating the evidence. Give yourself a little time as well.”

Meredith wrinkled her brow, confused. Charlie did the same.

“And why is that, Lord Carmichael?” Charlie asked.

Tristan’s gaze moved to her, and the love she saw sparkling in his eyes warmed her to her very toes. “Because we’re all going to be very busy planning a wedding. If we start reading the banns this Sunday, we could be married within the month.”

Meredith gasped, her hand coming up to her lips. “You—We…?”

He smiled as he dropped to one knee and took her hand. “I have never succeeded in asking you this in a romantic setting,” he said with a laugh. “But the sentiment is real. I want you to be my wife. And this time, I will brook no refusals.”

Joy lifted Meredith until she felt she could fly. Everything she ever desired, yet feared to hope for, was looking at her, embodied in Tristan.

She laughed even though tears streamed down her face. “You will hear no refusals, my lord. Yes, I will marry you, Tristan.”

As Tristan’s face lit up, she turned to Charlie. “I suppose I must tender my resignation.”

Tristan was on his feet in a heartbeat. “What?” He clenched her shoulders and forced her to look at him. “Why?”

“I will be a marchioness,” she answered. “No longer a widow. I assumed—”

He cut her off by slipping his arms around her. “I would want no other person protecting my country than my wife. You cannot give up your work, Meredith.”

Her heart swelled with joyful emotion. “Only if you fight by my side, Tristan.”

He smiled. “I will always be on your side.” His mouth came down to hers. “Always.”

J
ENNA
P
ETERSEN
’s journey as an author truly began when her husband told her she was happy only when she was writing. He was right, as always. She loves history and happily-ever-afters, so writing historical romance is a perfect fit.

When not writing, she enjoys reading, making fun of reality television and spending time with her cats (who truly believe they are children). She currently lives in central Illinois, where she dodges tornados between chapters.

Jenna loves hearing from readers! You can find her online at
www.jennapetersen.com
.

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