Page 34 of Daredevil Lady and the Mysterious Millionaire (The Hidden Hearts Collection #3)

She slipped inside the warehouse’s darkened interior.

Even with the sun streaking through the small grimy windows, the building was gloom-ridden and Rory had to pick her way with care.

She had just reached the deeply shadowed area by the steps leading up to her office when she heard a strange noise.

She stopped. Someone was behind her, someone breathing hard. Before she could move or cry out, an arm seized her about the waist. The newspaper she had been carrying flew out of her grasp.

Rory drew breath to scream, but the sound died in her throat as a voice rasped in her ear. “No, Rory. Don’t! It’s me.”

“Zeke?” she quavered, her heart pounding, torn between hope and disbelief. She whipped about, her hands colliding with his chest. His face loomed above her, streaked with dirt and sweat, his dark hair disheveled, his eyes tired but glittering bright at the sight of her.

“Oh, Zeke, I’ve been so worried about you.”

She flung her arms about him, catching him in a fierce hug. Instead of returning the embrace, he flinched, sucking in his breath.

“Zeke, what’s the—.” She drew back, staring at her hand. It was streaked with blood. Horrified, her gaze flew to his crimson-soaked sleeve.

“Zeke! You’ve been hurt.”

“Shot. By the police.” He gave her a wan smile. “It’s been a helluva morning, Aurora Rose.”

“Don’t try to explain anything now. Just let me look at your arm.”

“It’s all right. The bleeding’s nearly stopped. I think the bullet passed through.”

Despite his protests, she tore away a section of his sleeve, working as gently as she could.

He paled, clamping his teeth together. To her relief, she saw that he was right.

Likely the shot had gone clean through, leaving a relatively neat hole through the fleshy part of his arm.

Still he seemed to have lost a fair amount of blood.

“We have to get you to a doctor.”

“Not possible. The police are looking for me everywhere. I’m in a lot of trouble, Rory.”

“I know. I read about it in the papers.”

“The papers?” Despite the pain and exhaustion hazing his eyes, Zeke looked startled.

“Never mind about that now. I guess I’ll have to do what I can to bind up your arm myself. You stay right here.”

A foolish thing to say, for Zeke didn’t appear as though he were likely to go anywhere. She had no idea where he had been all this time. She only marveled at the strength that had brought him this far.

Hastening, she fetched water from the washroom behind the office upstairs and some strips of the silk material she used in sewing the balloon panels. When she returned, Zeke had sagged down on the bottommost stair.

But at her approach, he straightened, his eyes still keen and aware. He frequently clenched his jaw and cursed under his breath as she proceeded to clean the wound. But that didn’t stop him from asking questions.

“What’d you mean before— about the papers?”

Rory told him about the article that had appeared in the morning’s edition of the World.

Zeke grunted. “Damn that Duffy! How’d he get such a story and so fast? Someone’s not wasting much time.”

Rory ordered him to stay quiet while she bound up his arm. But it did no good, for Zeke continued. “Rory, I don’t know who is behind all this, but I swear to you, I am innocent.”

“Hush, Zeke. You don’t need to tell me that.”

“You ought to know all the dangers if you are helping me. Even the local police are involved.”

“O’Connell?”

Zeke nodded. “I should’ve listened to you last night. I think he plans to kill me and make it look like I was shot running away.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know, but I need to get away from here.”

Rory fully agreed with him, but as she observed Zeke’s drained features, she didn’t know how he was going to move one more step, let alone escape the police pursuit.

Before she could even begin to think what to do next, she heard Tony coming through the warehouse, shouting for her.

“Don’t bother hunting for those filings no more, Rory. We don’t need them.”

Rory moved to cut Tony off before he could see Zeke, but it was already too late. Tony sauntered toward the stairs, only to draw up short. He stared first at the bloodied clothes littering the floor, following the trail to Rory, then beyond to Zeke.

“Holy hell! Where the devil did he come from?”

“Zeke is trying to get away from the police,” Rory said, her words tumbling out in a rush. “They shot him.”

“Guess that’s what they usually do to runaway murderers.”

“Tony! Zeke is not a murderer, only a suspect. And O’Connell is shooting to kill”

Tony relaxed some of his belligerence, but he still said, “Well, whatever kind of trouble Morrison is in, it’s his problem. He shouldn’t be getting you involved.”

“Tony!”

But Zeke spoke up. “For once I agree with Mr. Bertelli. I should never have come here.”

“No, you should have just collapsed on the street out there so O’Connell could shoot you again,” Rory cried. “And if neither you nor Tony have anything sensible to say, I wish you would both be quiet so I can think what to do.”

Tony lapsed into a dour silence, but Zeke said, “If I only could make it back to Fifth Avenue, out of O’Connell’s precinct. I have powerful friends that can help me get clear of this mess.”

“There’s no way at all,” Tony said, shaking his head. “My brother says the police are all over the streets. They’ll probably start a building-to-building search soon.”

“Right. Then I shouldn’t be found in here.” He braced himself with his good arm, struggling to his feet. Rory placed one hand on his shoulder, gently restraining him.

“No, stop, Zeke. Tony is wrong. There is a way, a very good way to get you out of here.”

She glanced back at Tony. The boy seemed to comprehend what she was thinking instantly, for he protested, “Oh, no. You just forget it, Rory. It’s completely out of the question.”

But Rory caught Tony’s arm, pulling him a distance away from the steps. They got into a heated discussion with much gesturing of hands, but Zeke could not hear one word. He leaned wearily against the step rail, feeling his mind going hazy again.

What had he been thinking of, creeping into Rory’s warehouse like this?

If he had been more himself, he would never have done such a thing, never risked bringing the danger to her door.

He had staggered in here almost out of a blind instinct, a wounded animal going to ground in the first familiar place.

Now he would have given all his strength to be able to stagger out again.

Rory rushed back to his side, Tony hard after her. Whatever she had been saying to the boy, he still looked unconvinced, but resigned.

“Zeke, we have a plan,” Rory said, but she was interrupted by a loud hammering on the warehouse door.

The three of them froze, not moving, barely breathing. The knocking raged louder, a voice calling out in O’Connell’s unmistakable brogue, “Open up in there. This is the police.”

“Let him in,” Zeke said, his shoulders slumping in defeat. “Tell him I broke into the warehouse. He can hardly shoot me down in front of witnesses.”

“No, he’ll just wait and do it later.” Rory moved purposefully forward to drape Zeke’s arm about her shoulder. “Come on, Tony. Help me.”

After a hesitation, Tony complied. Linking his arm about Zeke’s waist, he and Rory managed to lead Zeke forward. Zeke cooperated as best he could, although he was not sure that he should.

He didn’t know what Rory had in mind, only that he wished she were out of it.

In another minute, O’Connell would be kicking in the door.

But all resistance was fast draining out of Zeke.

It was all he could do to plant one foot after the other, leaning heavily on Rory and Tony, following wherever they were taking him.

He squinted against the bright flood of sunlight as they emerged onto the dock. A roaring rang in his ears, so loud he thought he was passing out. It took him a moment to realize the loud hiss came from one of Rory’s floating monsters.

Glancing upward, Zeke stared at the mammoth balloon casting a shadow over him, and suddenly Rory’s plan struck him with crystal clarity.

“Oh, no,” he groaned, halting in his tracks. “I would rather take my chances with the police.”

“So would I,” Tony said, for once in agreement with him. But that didn’t cause Bertelli to thwart Rory’s order to help Zeke climb into the gondola.

Two other lads rushed forward, looking astonished, but they scrambled to ease Zeke’s weight from Rory’s shoulders. Zeke never knew quite how, but he found himself standing beneath those billowing yards of silk, clutching the side of a wicker basket.

Rory scrambled in beside him. “Cast off, Tony,” she cried, her voice shrill with urgency.

The warehouse beyond echoed with shouts and trampling feet. Zeke realized the police must have broken through the door and were coming through to the dock.

The three young men worked frantically to cast off the lines. Zeke felt the basket shudder and begin to rise. He took one look down as O’Connell and the other coppers came barreling onto the dock.

Then Zeke was aware of nothing but the solid earth falling rapidly away. His stomach clenched, his head reeling, but not from his wound. He let go of the edge of the basket, sagging to the floor of the gondola.

Rory peered downward, chortling with satisfaction. “Zeke, you should see O’Connell. He looks mad enough to eat his hat. Zeke?”

She glanced around, suddenly aware of his prone position. She hunched down beside him, her eyes, anxious.

“Zeke, what is it? Are you passing out? Is your wound bleeding again?”

He shook his head, gritting his teeth. It was worse than being shot again to have to tell her, but somehow he got it out.

“No, damn it. I’m afraid of heights.”