across the bed for something. In the next moments, I watched helplessly as he tied Wolfe’s wrists to the bottom spindles of the heavy bed frame.
“You’re next.” Jesper strode toward me and I tried to kick out at him again. He dodged and clucked his tongue at me. “Not that again, you wee bitch.”
He lunged, trying to wrench my arms behind my back, but I shrieked and punched and pummeled at him, vaguely aware of Wolfe shouting and struggling from his prison on the floor. Then Jesper’s huge hand came toward me and he hit my face with an almighty blow. My head snapped back and my legs gave way. I was barely aware of Jesper tying my hands behind my back and throwing me onto the bed. Water streamed out of my right eye and I hesitantly lifted my throbbing cheek, wincing at the blazing heat that scored down my face.
“Stay here and behave!” Jesper cried. “Boss will be in soon.”
I struggled into a sitting position as the man slammed the door and turned the key in the lock.
Feeling eyes on me, I looked down at Wolfe.
“Are you all right?” he asked hoarsely, his gaze on my cheek, his jaw clenched so tight, I thought it might shatter.
I huffed and shimmied toward him, trying to get a look at the cut on his head. “Am I all right? Wolfe, they knocked you unconscious.” I hissed at the bloody sight of his wound. “We need to get that cleaned up. Are you feeling well?”
He winced, stretching his legs out before him as he pulled at the ropes. It was futile. He slumped wearily. “I feel a little dizzy.”
“You were out awhile.”
“Noted. Where are we?” He glanced around the room.
I sighed. “We’re in an abandoned glassworks. We’ve been taken by what I assume is a rookery gang.”
Something forbidding burned in his blue eyes. “Did any of them touch you?”
I grinned, thinking about Little Sin. “I knocked out the one who tried.”
Wolfe quirked an eyebrow. “Knocked out?”
I quickly told him how I had incapacitated Jesper and then launched the mallet at Little Sin. Wolfe shook his head in amazement. “Perhaps I should let the men train you.”
Surprised, I grinned. “I told you so.”
He rolled his eyes. “So humble.”
“Pot, meet kettle.”
Wolfe tugged at the ropes again. “We need to get out of here, Rogan.”
Ignoring the ripple of sensation that tickled down my spine every time he said my name, I stumbled onto the floor and tried to maneuver myself in front of him.
“What are you doing?” I could hear the amusement in his voice.
“I thought you could use your teeth to get the ropes off my wrists,” I explained over my shoulder, thrusting my arms backward at him.
“Rogan, please tell me you’re kidding. Have you seen how thick this rope is?”
“Well, how else are we—”
I hushed at the sound of a key turning in the lock. Wolfe brought a leg up, pulling me back into him so I was sitting between his legs. I realized it was an attempt to shield me from whatever was coming. I felt his indrawn breath on the back of my neck.
We waited, hearts racing, and the door swung open. At first, I couldn’t make out anything except the silhouette of a tall man. And then he strode inside, slowly, leisurely … and I let go a yelp of surprise.
I recognized those green eyes and that jet-black hair, that defiant smirk. He was taller, older, and his face was harder now, but it was no less handsome than it had been when we were young.
“Kir!” I gasped.
The smirk on his face fell as he came to an abrupt halt. “Rogan? Wolfe?”
“Kir!” I laughed a little hysterically, relief flooding through me.
“Holy mother of—” He dropped to his knees and grasped my shoulders, his eyes wide with shock. “I can’t believe it’s you.”
“Well, it is,” Wolfe grunted from behind me. “Fancy untying us?”
Stunned, he sank back onto his heels, taking a moment.
It was then realization struck.
“You’re Boss?” I asked, trying to keep the condemnation out of my question.
Kir must have heard the accusation anyway, for he winced regretfully. “Yeah,” he admitted. “I’m Boss.”
Wolfe peered over my shoulder, and I tensed with awareness of his proximity. “So, any intention of letting us go, then?”
The men shared a long look. “I can’t believe it’s you. How are you?”
I was surprised by how congenial the two were, considering Wolfe’s father was Syracen and the fact that Kir had had to live with the