Rose Gardner's Florist (The Providence Street Shops #2) - Bonnie Dee Page 0,49
He was short, tough, and loud. “A Good Samaritan spotted the girl and told the authorities. That’s us. We saw her today. You’re lucky we didn’t make a scene in front of your customers. Now it’s time for us to take the girl home.”
“You’re the authorities? Do you represent Scotland Yard? Have the police sent you? Please show me some form of identification.” Rose listened for any sound from behind her, and prayed Candace had made her way upstairs to hide.
“Mr. Merker hired us to find his ward,” the tall man said. “That’s about enough of your questions, Miss. Let us do our duty.”
The stocky fellow pushed Rose out of their way, slamming her body against the open door. He pinned her there, while his partner entered the room.
The agent approached Candace, who stood near the worktable with the valise clutched in her fist. “Now, Miss Sweet, no need to worry. We’re here to take you home.” He held his hands open to show he bore no weapon. “Come along now. Your dear uncle is waiting for you.”
“He’s not my uncle, and I will not come with you,” she snapped.
As the man reached out for her, Candace swung the heavy valise so it hit his chest and kept him at bay.
Rose fought to free herself from the boxer’s hand holding her pressed against the door. She could not pry his fingers from just below her throat, but her legs were free. She brought up one knee sharply into his privates. The fellow gave a howl and let go of her to reach for his groin.
Bent over, his head was right at the height of her elbow. Rose jabbed him hard with the point of her elbow and ran across the room to aide Candace. On the way, she snatched up the first thing in her path she might possibly use as a weapon—a bucket of flowers.
She heaved its contents toward the man reaching for her friend. A shower of cold water and cattails rained down on him. That slowed him down enough for Candace to slip away if she would.
“Run, Candace!” Rose yelled. “Go now!”
But the woman would not leave her. Instead, she bashed the tall agent a second time with her valise. The strength of her blow on his head drove him to his knees.
“Trenton!” The man bellowed. “Grab her.”
His partner rallied from the shot to his genitals and did as he was bid. He seized Candace from behind, pinning her arms to her sides so she couldn’t fit.
As he dragged her toward the open door, his partner scrambled up and faced Rose.
Before she could dart past him to aide Candace, he grabbed her arm with bruising force. Rose tried to scratch his face with her free hand but he was too tall. She screeched and bit at him, then kicked up with her knee but could made no contact this time.
“Don’t make me hurt you. This is not your business,” he growled as he restrained her arms by binding her body close to his. “The girl’s going back where she belongs. If you know what’s best for you, you’ll let her go or face charges of kidnapping.”
At his words, Candace immediately stopped struggling against her captor. “Leave Miss Gardener out of it. I was never kidnapped. She merely sheltered me when I came to her for help.”
“Then you’re gonna want to make things easy for your friend, ain’t ya?” The short man took advantage of her stillness to remove a cloth from his pocket and clap it over her mouth and nose. Candace began to fight again, but he held her tight.
Rose watched as her friend’s wide eyes above the handkerchief became unfocused, then closed. Candace’s body went limp and she sagged against the fellow. Chloroform.
Rose renewed her struggle against the man who held her. She pushed so hard to break free that when he let her go, she pitched forward and fell on the floor. The tall agent gave a sharp kick to her ribs to make certain she stayed there.
For a moment, Rose lost consciousness of anything but the sharp pain in her side and the whoosh of air driven from her lungs.
When she looked up, the tall agent had lifted Candace’s unconscious body as if it weighed nothing and slung it over his shoulder.
His partner stalked over to Rose. “This is for me bollocks, ya filthy twat.”
The last thing Rose recalled was the toe of a boot coming toward her face.