Page 4 of Cloaked in Deception (Spencer & Reid Mysteries #4)

“You could have shot into the air, in warning,” she said to the leader, even though a swell of nausea nearly stoppered her throat. “You didn’t have to kill an innocent woman.”

She was seated in the center of the bench, between him and one of the other men.

The leader was close enough that his hip pressed against hers.

He looked down at her. The cutouts in his mask were large enough for Leo to make out dark lashes and dusky blue irises.

The unlined skin around his eyes hinted that he wasn’t yet out of his twenties or early thirties.

“Who was that man at the table?” he asked rather than reply to her comment. “The one who looked like he wanted to tear out my throat?”

He had to be referring to Jasper and the blistering glare he’d thrown at the masked men’s leader; it had seared into Leo’s memory.

“I don’t know whom you mean,” she answered.

The cloth over his mouth billowed when he laughed. He didn’t believe her, but Leo did not care. She wouldn’t give up Jasper’s name even if he put his revolver to her head again.

“If he attempts to chase after us, he’ll be sorry,” the man said. He still held the gun, though he’d let it come to rest in his lap.

The coach rattled onward at an expeditious clip. With the curtains drawn, she had no idea where they were or in which direction they’d gone after leaving the chief coroner’s home on Kennington Circle.

She grew impatient, not knowing when they would stop and release her.

Or if they would at all. In the uneasy quiet, another potential danger occurred to her.

They were five men in all. She was one woman.

They’d already proved to be thieves, and at least one of them, a killer.

What other dastardly things might they do?

She tried to breathe evenly. If she was forced to, she would attempt to employ the dinner knife she’d put into her dress pocket when the men had first burst into the dining room.

She hadn’t stopped to think when she did it; it had been reflexive.

And thankfully, her dress had been just unfashionable enough to have pockets.

Not that a dinner knife would be much of a defense against five men with guns. But having it, feeling the weight of it against her thigh, was an ounce of comfort she wouldn’t otherwise have.

Minutes spooled out. The silent tension in the coach grew corrosive. Leo shifted on the lumpy bench cushion, her right ear still ringing from the gunshot fired so close to her. It hadn’t ruptured her eardrum, however, unlike the blast of the bomb outside Scotland Yard in May had done.

The leader of the thieves suddenly raised his voice and called to the coachman, “Is there anyone after us?”

After a pause, an answering “Clear” sounded from the driver’s bench.

The leader whistled, and the coach wheels began to slow. Leo’s heart leaped. She touched her skirt pocket, felt the sharp dinner knife hidden there, ready. But when the coach rocked to a stop, the leader only opened the door. Rain and wind whipped inside. Leo peered out into the darkness.

“You’re truly going to let me go?” she asked, skeptical.

“Didn’t I say I would?” He gestured for the exit.

“You speak as if your word should mean something,” Leo said before she could curb her tongue.

“Brassy,” the man said with a light laugh. “I would invite you to stay, but we are rather in a hurry.”

She maneuvered around the men’s boots and legs to the exit, refusing the killer’s hand when he extended it. As a result, she nearly tumbled to the ground as she cleared the coach.

Immediately, the door slammed shut, and the horses tore away, quickly leaving her in the dust. Or rather, mud.

Rain pelted her shoulders as she stared at the coach disappearing down the road.

She exhaled long and hard and, with a cramp in her throat, realized a sob was threatening to erupt.

Leo swallowed it, refusing to cry. She was safe.

Alive . They’d let her go. Though she could not fathom why.

The man had killed Mrs. Seabright without so much as a blink—and yet, excepting that he’d dropped her off in the middle of nowhere, he’d shown Leo something close to civility.

As the clattering of the coach subsided into the distance, the drumming of the downpour took over.

Leo shivered. Her dress was already soaked through, and her shoes squelched in an inch of mud along the darkened road.

There were no buildings or lampposts near her, no familiar markers to clue her in as to where she was.

But as her eyes adjusted to the dim light, she thought she might be near a field.

Turning around, she spotted light on the horizon.

The glow of civilization, perhaps a quarter mile away.

Jasper would be frantic with worry, and her uncle, when he learned what had happened, would be too.

The sooner she got home, the sooner she could put their minds at ease.

And then she could help Scotland Yard figure out who the masked men were.

For now, there was nothing she could do except walk.

She tucked her head down against the rain and started forward.