Run Wild (Escape with a Scoundrel) - By Shelly Thacker Page 0,104

the blade, wiped it clean on Uncle Prescott’s expensive waistcoat. And moved toward her.

She tried to scramble backward, but with her wrists bound behind her, she could barely move.

He smiled grimly at her. “Miss Delafield, there’s nowhere to run. And don’t bother to thank me. I’m not here to be gallant. I don’t give a damn about you or your lecherous uncle or anyone else who preys on the innocent.” Bending down, he set the knife aside and used his hand to open the box she had dropped. “He was nothing but corrupt scum, and from what I’ve read, you’re nothing but a thief.” He counted the money with a low sound of pleasure. “It’s money that I’m most interested in.”

She stared at him in confusion, her heart hammering. Was he a bounty hunter of some kind? A thief-taker?

He picked up the knife and the slender box, sliding both into the pocket of his worn frock coat as he stood. Then he came over and hauled her to her feet. “Sorry that there was no time for proper introductions. My name is Foster. Joseph Foster. But that’s not important. I’m here for a little information.”

Hooking his foot around a straight-backed chair that the marshalmen had knocked to the floor, he righted it and pushed her into the seat.

Then he drew the knife again, holding it in front of her eyes.

“Now, you wouldn’t scream for help, would you?” he asked coolly. “Because you don’t want a dozen marshalmen in here anymore than I do. We’re agreed on that, are we not? Just nod.”

She nodded.

“Very good. We’re getting off to an excellent start.”

He leaned closer. She squeezed her eyes shut as she felt the cold touch of the blade against her skin.

But the chill against her cheek lasted only a second. He cut off the gag.

However, he left her hands bound. Her arms were tingling, going numb.

She tried to speak but her mouth had gone dry. “W-who... what—”

“Let’s not waste time, Miss Delafield. I have precious few hours to spare. Just to expedite this matter, let me explain a few things.” He pulled up another chair, turned it around and sat in front of her, folding his arm over the back. “It was the stories in the papers that caught my attention—”

“What stories? What are you—”

The tip of the knife touched her chin. “Please don’t interrupt. And please don’t waste my time by playing the innocent. As I said, I’m in something of a hurry.” He withdrew the knife, but dangled it in his fingertips only inches from her face.

Sam strained at the ropes that bound her wrists, hating that she was helpless, glaring at him in furious silence.

“Better,” he said. “Now then, after I noticed the stories in the papers, I located your uncle and followed him, figuring that he would lead me to you. I had hoped to find the answers I seek still attached to your ankle... but unfortunately, it seems that you and your nefarious companion have parted company.”

Nick, she thought with a sudden rush of understanding and an equally strong rush of fear. He was after Nick.

“When the marshalmen ransacked your room and found nothing,” he continued, “your uncle decided to wait for you. I thought he might know something I didn’t, so I decided to wait, too. I was about to give up and leave, when you finally arrived and... well, you know the rest.” He toyed with the knife, turning it deftly in his fingers. “All I want, Miss Delafield, are the answers to a few simple questions. Give me what I want and you can be on your way.”

“Not without that box in your coat pocket, I can’t.”

Her answer seemed to surprise him. “You should be grateful that I’m letting you escape with your life.”

“You expect me to believe that you’ll allow me to walk away, Mr. Foster? Killing seems to come rather easily to you.”

His eyes darkened. “I don’t kill without reason. I’ve merely learned a few ways of defending myself over the years. As I said before, it’s not you or your lecherous uncle that I care about. Now are you going to answer my questions?”

Stony silence was her only reply.

“Let’s start with a simple one. In fact, this question might make the rest unnecessary. Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe I’m jumping at shadows. You’ll have to tell me.”

She shrugged.

“Ah, a hint of cooperation.” He leaned forward. “The man who was arrested with you—was he in fact a footpad by the name of