The Bachelor's Bride (The Thompsons of Locust Street #1) - Holly Bush Page 0,28
on his own, and truth be told, he was enjoying Elspeth’s attention. He would have kissed her when he pulled her into his arms from where she lay on the ground if his lip wasn’t already swollen and bleeding. It was enough for now, he supposed, that she swayed into his arms, bringing her body flush against his and her face close enough that he could feel her breath on his cheeks when she whispered.
Elspeth led him to the bed, and he gingerly lowered himself down.
“Ah,” he said as he sank into the soft mattress and the smell of lilacs drifted up to his nose. He could lay back and sleep for a week, he thought as his eyes closed.
“And what happened to this one?” he heard from the doorway.
“Mrs. Murdoch, I’d stand if I could, but I don’t think I can,” he said and opened his eyes a sliver. Her white apron was streaked with blood, and the older sister was behind her, Muireall, the one he’d not met until a few minutes ago.
MacAvoy stuck his head above both women in the doorway. “Don’t get too comfortable, Pendergast. James wants to see you before Aunt Murdoch gets her hands on you.”
“He can talk to him later,” Elspeth said.
MacAvoy shook his head. “No, lass. He needs to talk to him now. I’ll help him. It’s only across the hall.”
MacAvoy wedged himself past the women and pulled Alexander up by the arm. “There you go, Pendergast.”
Alexander winced and let himself be led out the door, past the disapproving eyes of the women of the house, across the hall. MacAvoy rapped his knuckles on the closed door and turned the knob.
“Here he is, James. Looking a little ragged.”
Alexander walked to the bed, surveying James Thompson as he was stretched out on top of the covers, wearing only a loose-fitting pair of pants, tied at the waist with a drawstring. His neck was wrapped, and his mouth was a mass of cuts, swollen and still bleeding, with several small, neat stitches at the corner. Thompson had a rag in his hand and tapped his lip gently with it, eyeing the blood on it as he pulled it from his face with a shaking hand.
“Get closer, Pendergast. He can only whisper, and he’s not even to do that much,” MacAvoy said and turned his head to the door. “Out with you then, Muireall. This is manly talk. Shoo.”
“What happened at the fight? Did Padino have something in his hands?” Alexander asked.
“Iron balls wrapped on each finger,” MacAvoy replied.
“The referee examined his hands. Didn’t he see it?”
“Must have been paid off, that damn Hallman,” MacAvoy said.
Alexander bent over the man lying on the bed. Thompson reached up and grabbed his shoulder, pulling him closer yet. Tightly. “Who were those men?” he whispered hoarsely.
“I don’t know,” Alexander said truthfully. But even if he did know their names and locations, he would manage them himself. He didn’t need Thompson on his heels at his work or with the woman he . . . the woman he what?
Thompson squeezed his arm again. Alexander could tell it was costing him to do so. The big man was weak. “My sisters must be protected.”
“They are safely home. Both of them are worried about you.”
Thompson shook his head.
“We know you can take care of yourself, James,” MacAvoy said. “I’ll do what I can to find out who those two were and keep an eye on the girls and Payden. Murdoch’s on her own.”
James choked a laugh and winced when his lip cracked open again. He wrapped his hand around Alex’s collar and yanked him closer still. He looked him in the eye without blinking. “I don’t believe you,” he whispered.
“Who is Payden?” Alexander asked.
“The youngest Thompson. I call him the ‘prince,’ the way they spoil that boy, but he’s unaffected. A good lad, only thirteen or so now.”
Thompson tried to say something but grabbed at his throat with the effort. MacAvoy handed him a schoolroom slate and chalk. Thompson glared at his friend but took the chalk in hand and started to scribble.
“I WILL know who those men were,” MacAvoy read from the chalkboard. He looked up at Alexander. “You may as well tell him now. He’ll find out eventually.”
“I don’t know who they are.” Alexander sat down in the chair by the bed, suddenly dizzy and wishing the interrogation would come to an end.
“But you know something,” MacAvoy began and stopped when the door opened.