Page 49 of The Hunter

He expected censure for his profanity in front of her boy but, in truth, he couldn’t identify what swam in her gaze along with her tears. She didn’t look angry.

Argent said nothing, deciding that was the safest course, and kept his own features firmly neutral, though he abruptly felt anything but.

“What I can’t figure is how the villain got backstage.” The theater employee pulled a white handkerchief out of his pocket and handed it to Millie, frowning when she used it to wipe Jakub’s nose instead of her own eyes.

“Dear Lord.” Millie’s brow pinched with concern

“Do you remember anything else the intruder spoke of, lad?” McTavish asked, a pencil poised over a notepad he’d produced from the depths of his suit.

Jakub’s eyes turned dead serious. “He said he wasn’t going to hurt me… just you, Mama, and that he was going to deliver me.”

“Deliver you where?” Even beneath her layers of paint, Millie’s skin visibly paled.

The boy shrugged. “I don’t know. Mr. Argent told him not to say your fuckin—”

Millie pressed her fingers over her son’s lips. “Let’s not repeat anything else that Mr. Argent said until you and I have a talk, all right?”

The boy nodded and his mother sent Argent a look that would have withered a lesser man.

Jakub nodded again and continued once his mouth was released. “He didn’t say anything else, Mama. The man threw a knife at Mr. Argent and he smacked it, right out of the air!” The boy became more animated as he mimicked Argent’s movements and pointed to the chink in the arabesque wallpaper where the knife had been embedded.

They all turned to examine it.

“Then Mr. Argentkickedhim against the door.” Millie had to lean away in order to dodge the errant foot of her son. “And took the knife from the wall and theystabbedat each other, but Mr. Argent made him drop his knife, and then threw him on the ground, and they rolled.” The boy spun in a vertical adaptation of the motion. “And Mr. Argent pinned him down with a knife right above his eyes.” A stabbing motion with his small hand sent a visible flinch through Millie. “He told me to look away.”

“And did you?” the old actor asked, his eyes wide and enraptured by the story.

“I did, but then the police arrived. And Mr. Argent said—” The boy clamped his lips together between his teeth and pushed his glasses up for the umpteenth time. “I think I know which word you don’t want me to say, now.”

Millie reached out and softly took her son’s hand, pulling him back into her arms where he squirmed for a moment, then relented. “You were such a brave boy.” Argent could feel her trying to capture his gaze, but he couldn’t bring himself to look directly at her.

“Where are these knives now?” McTavish queried.

“The one that was dropped is under Mama’s skirts.”

Millie made a choked sound and gathered armfuls of her costume until the blade was uncovered.

McTavish bent to retrieve it. “I should collect yers too, Argent, for evidence.” He took one look at Argent’s expression and blanched. “Or, ye keep it, this should be sufficient.”

“Egad, man, did it truly occur the way the lad described?” The foppish man skirted mother and child and approached Argent.

“More or less.”

“Well, Mr. Argent, was it? You are a champion if there ever was one. I am Mr. Kelsey Throckmorton, the master of ceremonies and stage manager for the Royal Opera House at Covent Garden, and let me be the first to extend you our sincere and humble gratitude for your heroics tonight on behalf of the belle of our stage.”

Argent doubted there was anything sincere or humble about the man, but he nodded to him all the same.

With an overdramatic gesture Mr. Throckmorton asked, “Are you a particular… friend of our Miss LeCour’s?” The question was so rife with innuendo it should have put off an odor.

Millie intervened. “Due to the danger I’m in, I’ve employed Mr. Argent for protection.”

“Well.” Throckmorton gave Argent a very thorough once-over. Twice. “That must cost you quite the pound of flesh.”

Argent nodded again. He didn’t have the weight quite right, but he’d certainly guessed the currency.

CHAPTERTHIRTEEN

To Millie his regard was like a tangible caress reaching through the layers of her clothing and consciousness to touch places she’d previously been unaware of.