Page 92 of Captain Jack’s Woman

Belville frowned, clearly debating the possibility. Then he slowly shook his head. “There’s something damned odd about your ‘traffic.’ You sent a man out tonight—Henry and I would like to know what he was carrying. There’s no other traitor in Whitehall bar us—Henry’s quite sure of that. Which means you’re running a double deal, one which may well rebound on Henry’s and my necks.” Belville smiled, a chilling sight. “I’m afraid, dear sir, that your days in the profession have come to an end.”

So saying, he raised both pistols.

Ten feet behind him, Kit skidded to a soundless halt in the sand, eyes wide and terrified. She jerked Jack’s pistol up before her, clutching it in both hands. Screwing her eyes tight shut, she pulled the trigger.

An explosion of sound ricochetted from the cliffs. Both Jack and George rocked back on their heels, expecting to feel the searing pain of a bullet somewhere in their flesh. As the veil of powder smoke drifted past on the breeze, they looked at each other and realized neither had stopped a bullet. Matthew reached them, equally astonished to find both unharmed. In amazement, they all turned to stare at Belville.

His lordship’s pasty complexion had paled, a look of incredulity stamped across his fleshy features. Both pistols were smoking but pockmarks in the sand at Jack’s and George’s feet bore evidence that he’d not raised his weapons far before discharging them.

Bewildered, Jack looked into the man’s eyes, only to find them glazing. As he watched, Belville twisted to the right and collapsed in a heap on the sand.

Facing them stood Kit, now revealed, a smoking pistol in her hands, her eyes enormous pools of shock.

Jack forgot about Belville, about missions and spies. In a split second, he’d covered the space between them and wrapped Kit in his arms, crushing her to him, furious and thankful all at once. “Damn woman!” he said into her curls. “How the hell did you get here?”

He felt weak, shock and relief offsetting his anger that she was there at all. As he reached for the gun, hanging from her limp fingers, he swore softly. “What the hell am I to do with you?”

Kit blinked up at him, thoroughly disoriented. She’d just killed a man. She wriggled in Jack’s arms, trying to peer around his shoulders to where George and Matthew were bent over Belville’s body. But Jack held her firmly, using his body to shield her. “Be still.”

With no alternative, Kit did. Almost immediately waves of nausea swept through her. She paled and swayed into Jack’s embrace as faintness dragged at her senses.

“It’s all right. Breathe deeply.”

Kit heard the words of comfort and did as she was told. Gradually, the world stopped spinning.

Then George was beside them.

Jack held her tight, her face pressed to his chest. Beneath her cheek she could feel his heartbeat, strong and steady, very much alive. Tears started to her eyes. Annoyed at her weakness, Kit blinked them away.

One look at George’s face was enough for Jack, but he had to know and Kit had to hear. “Dead?”

George nodded. “Clean through the heart.”

Jack stifled a ridiculous urge to ask Kit whether, among her many odd talents, she included pistol shooting. Even at such close range, a clean shot under pressure took skill. And courage. But he had no doubt of her reserves of that quality.

The resigned overtones in each man’s voice brought Kit’s head up. She stared at Jack. “Didn’t you want him dead?”

To his exasperation, Jack couldn’t come up with a convincing affirmative fast enough to allay her suspicions. Instead, her shocked gaze compelled him to stick to something like the truth. “It would have been more help if we could have got him alive, but,” he hurried on, “in the circumstances, Matthew, George, and I are perfectly happy to be alive. Don’t think we’re complaining.”

Jack couldn’t tell what she was feeling; her eyes reflected a turmoil far deeper than his own. To his relief, George came to his aid.

“Matthew says a body put in here will be taken out to sea.”

Jack nodded. A disappearance would be easier all around. Bodies had to be explained, and explaining Belville’s would not help their mission.

“Joe—we have to find Joe!”

Kit’s voice jerked both her listeners to a sense of their duty.

“No!” came from both of them.

“I’ll take you home,” Jack continued. “George will deal with Joe.”

But Kit drew back as far as he’d let her, shaking her head vehemently. “But he might not…No. We have to look now!”

Both men registered the note of hysteria in her voice. They exchanged troubled glances over her head.

“Come on!” Kit was tugging at Jack’s arm. “He might be dying while you argue!”