The Only Gold (40 page)

They couldn’t hope for that. With his chance to go for help lost, Jonah knew his safety and Alice’s lay in his own hands. He could think of no means to effect it, not with Scroggs attentive to his every move and so clearly relishing the prospect of killing him. As they crossed the lobby, Jonah slowed, risking Scroggs’s wrath to look for some sign of what had become of Reid. His effort was not lost on Scroggs. “You’ll see him soon enough, for all the good it’ll do you. He won’t be looking out for anyone. Least of all himself.”

Jonah said nothing, afraid angering Scroggs would leave Alice in greater peril, but his thoughts ran wild as he ascended the stairs. The boardroom wasn’t the only office with a telegraph key. The lawyers had one, if he could somehow get up to the third floor. Though telegraph and telephone both were likely out of commission, it was worth the chance. He had so few options that the notion of flinging himself from a window was no idle one. He’d survived it once already. He might well chance broken bones or worse to get out of the building and reach the police.

Along the second-floor corridor Scroggs brought them to a sudden halt and gestured at the door of the cloak closet. “Open it.”

The command directed at Alice made her start. Her eyes fell on the key Scroggs held out, and she gingerly took it. As she unlocked the door, an unspeakable wave of dread swept Jonah. He had no time to get a word out before the door opened, and Scroggs’s hand at his back thrust him into the black interior. He stumbled and fell, landing on a motionless figure sprawled in the middle of the floor. The slam of the door nearly drowned a quiet groan, but Jonah heard it. Under the door came a thin shaft of light from the dark lantern, remaining long enough to give him a glimpse of Reid’s bloodied profile. Shocked, Jonah hovered over him, as the light faded with Scroggs’s departure. “Reid?”

“You can’t follow orders to save your life.”

Hoarse and edged with pain, but fully Reid. Jonah’s heart found a steadier pace. “Nor yours, it seems.”

“I’m all right. A little bruised.”

“No more necessary falsehoods.” Jonah produced a handkerchief. “How did they find you out?”

“Barton. The son of a bitch spied on me.” Reid let out a measured breath, as if it hurt to talk. “My own damned fault.”

Jonah knew better. “Your attention was divided.”

“To hell with that. You’re not taking any of the blame.” Reid laid his hand over Jonah’s, halting the careful examination. “So many times I wanted to tell you. I couldn’t….”

He went quiet, taking in another long, slow breath. Worried, Jonah slipped free. “You’re not shot?” It was a difficult question to ask, and unable to wait for an answer, he opened Reid’s coat—to stop at once when Reid winced.

“Bruised ribs,” Reid whispered. “Barton’s got a bullet for me. He just hasn’t used it yet.”

“We won’t give him the chance. I know you can pick a lock as easily as you picked my pocket.”

Reid’s laugh was rough, but reassuring. “If I can, you’re going alone. I’ll slow you down.”

“I’m not leaving you here. Nor Alice.”

“Alice?” The amusement drained from his voice. “Damn. I didn’t think I could run this aground more thoroughly. Scroggs talking ransom?”

“That was the implication.” Jonah could not express his deeper worry. “She expects her father will be here shortly… but Mr. Grandborough knew you would bring Barton Sunday evening?”

“He and Naughton both knew. I expect the weather’s trapped them, or they’d be here. They’ll know the note we left on the door is false, but without my signal, I don’t know if they’ll act on it.”

“Your signal?”

“An open shutter in the boardroom. Grandborough would know the deed’s done and would alert agents to follow after us.”

“Without your signal, would they resort to storming the bank?”

“Not with the chance of bank employees coming in unexpectedly.” Reid snorted. “One in particular, anyway. Grandborough was concerned, but I told him I’d make sure you stayed home.”

Jonah grimaced. Everything that had gone wrong, it was his fault, whether or not Reid wanted to say so. “I thought I could reassure you the bank was safe. You seemed so worried. I never guessed. Not even after you picked my pocket.”

“I shouldn’t have.” A weary humor tempered the tension in his voice. “There had to be a limit to what you were willing to ascribe to my upbringing. That you kept trusting me….” He sounded oddly resigned. “It made the situation easier… and more difficult. You were a challenge in more ways than you knew.”

“Can we get out of here?” Jonah asked quietly.

Reid exhaled again, almost a laugh. “Barton was careful to search me. He confiscated everything but my clothes, I think. You’ll have to loan me your lock pick.”

Jonah surrendered a tired laugh of his own. “I am inconveniently without one. Your Mr. Scroggs took everything I had of value.” He hesitated when the hand resting on his tightened briefly, comfortingly. “Nearly everything,” he amended, and slipping down, hid his face in Reid’s neck, aware of the strong pulse under his jaw, the heat of his skin. He’d never felt so glad and grateful for anything. “I thought….”

Reid brushed a hand over his hair. “The world’s not ending yet. Not if we can help it. Ordinarily….” The note of humor was back, insuppressible. “I’d never request anything so undignified of a banker, but if you search around, maybe you’ll find something left behind. Something we can use to get out of here.”

Jonah drew back, and though he could see little more than the faintest gleam in Reid’s gaze, knew he was smiling. “You want me to crawl about the floor for castoff shoelaces and coat buttons?”

“A hairpin. Preferably.”

“Only the directors use this closet—”

“A tie pin, then. Any kind of pin you can find.”

A thorough search of every inch of floor and shelf yielded pins for neither gender. As he rose, aching and dusty, he heard a curse and realized Reid was struggling to stand. Hastening to his side, Jonah got an arm around him before he fell. “What do you think you’re doing?”

Reid sucked in a breath and winced. “I’m getting up my strength to break the door down.”

“Good God.”

“Jo, listen. When Scroggs comes back, I’ll hold him off—”

“I won’t leave you to him.”

“I’m not asking you to. Head for the boardroom and open the shutter. If we can stall Barton long enough, the police may reach the bank in time to rescue Alice.”

“You really believe anyone’s looking out for your signal? In this storm?”

“No. But it’s our best chance.”

“All right… but I don’t think you’re quite ready to charge the door. There’s a bench in the back. Come and sit.”

Reid slipped an arm around his shoulders and allowed Jonah to maneuver him to the narrow seat between the cupboards. He sat heavily and the moment Jonah was beside him, leaned against him with a half-stifled groan that heightened Jonah’s worry. “Is it bad?”

“I’m all right.”

Jonah snorted. “You say I’m stubborn.”

“You are.”

“Then we’ve something in common after all.” Guilt reasserted itself under his surface exasperation, and he hesitated. “Reid….”

“Don’t apologize.”

“How did you know—”

“Jo, this isn’t your fault. You’re trapped in a situation not of your making, and you’ve been threatened, abused, and left with every reason to believe I won your trust for the sole purpose of betraying you.” Reid’s voice softened. “The apology’s due you. I don’t know why you’d think otherwise.”

“I shouldn’t have let you come back alone. It would have been safer for you and Alice both.”

“Safer for Alice, perhaps, but not you. Nor me. Barton had a gun to my head the minute I stepped into the bank. I don’t know why he didn’t kill me then, unless he’s finding too much enjoyment in the prospect, to let it be done and past. He has even less reason for keeping you alive. And I have no doubt he’d like to shoot you before my eyes, just to demonstrate how completely I’ve failed to protect you.”

The self-recrimination, so sharply honed, cut a swift stroke through Jonah, and he recoiled at the thought of what it was doing to Reid. “You’ve protected me from the moment we met,” he said, realizing the truth of it even as he spoke. “And you haven’t failed. I’ve complicated things, but I can’t believe we’re out of luck. I won’t believe it.”

Jonah slipped both arms around him, wanting to let Reid—for once—feel sheltered. He held on gently, afraid to distress the bruised ribs, but Reid’s arms surged around him, fingers tangling in his hair, yearning lips on his skin. If Jonah needed to know whether Reid found the same respite, it was answered in the heated breath, like a silent sigh, that brushed past his ear. After a moment, Reid’s voice followed it, with uncharacteristic hesitancy. “Still glad for my company?”

Drawing back, Jonah made out the troubled tilt of Reid’s brows and dispirited twist of his mouth. Words could not chase away that regret. Jonah kissed him with all the reassurance at his command and was pleased to see a trace of the old sly confidence in Reid’s tired smile. Jonah laid a hand comfortingly on the nape of his neck. “Rest.”

Reid sagged against him. “Don’t let me sleep. When Gil’s ready to travel, they’ll be back for us. We’ve got to listen for them.”

“I’ll listen.”

“You’re tired.”

“We’ll rest in turns.” Jonah knew exhaustion was winning the battle, and when Reid’s breathing fell into a regular rhythm, he was glad. Sleep would strengthen him for what was to come. But with Reid slumped warm against him, Jonah was none too sure he could keep from drifting off, himself. Attuned for a key in the lock, he let his attention intermittently shift to the distant wind. It buffeted the building with a milder hand, soothing in its steady rise and fall. Beyond that, the world seemed all but laid to rest beneath the blanketing snow.

Jonah ached for sleep, but he could not wake Reid, not yet. To see Reid so frail and weary troubled him. He hadn’t been aware of how much he relied on Reid’s strength, nor how much he valued the force of will, so often overshadowed by affable charm, that made up the man’s character. Reid would bear the brunt of whatever Barton had in mind for them. Jonah could not prevent him from doing what he saw as his duty. But Reid had protected him. He could offer the same vigilance.

In the slow passage of minutes, it was that desire that kept him awake. That, and his dread of Scroggs’s eventual reappearance. The darkness was close and almost comforting, but for the grayer outline around the door—and Jonah’s focus on it became an endless torment of its own. He could see it behind his eyelids each time he started to doze, and when he snapped awake, he was certain it had brightened with the glow of lantern light.

No longer sure he could trust his sense of time passing, he wished desperately for his watch; Reid’s was gone as well. He began to wonder if Barton and the rest had left the bank—and if they had taken Alice away with them. Though she’d been brave, he knew how frightened she was. He could not bear the thought of Scroggs or Barton doing her harm. He didn’t know if his own strength was equal to breaking down the door, but—exhausted, aching, and anxious—he could not bear the wait much longer without trying something.

That consideration and all others fled his thoughts when a key clinked in the lock. As the door swung open and lantern light poured in unmistakably this time, Jonah turned in alarm to Reid—only to gasp at first sight of him. Bruises darkened cheek and jaw, and blood streaked from a corner of his mouth. But the blood had dried, and Reid’s gaze was undulled, his jaw set as Liam Abbott stepped in and shut the door.