Runaway (A New Adventure Begins - Star Elite Book 4) Page 4

  Something within Jasper paused and even flinched when his gaze met that of the young woman’s again. There was a soulless look of desperation in the depths of her dark green eyes, set amidst what could only be described as a timeless beauty, that warned Jasper she was prepared to jump. Boldly, she tipped her chin up and stared defiantly at him, stoically, calmly challenging him to goad her.

  “Don’t,” Jasper whispered, praying and hoping that he would be able to lure her with a hint of gentleness. Together, he and Callum crept closer, ever so slowly, step by painfully quiet step. “Just stay and talk to us. We can help you.”

  “You can’t help me,” Molly whispered. Tears blurred her vision, but she hastily swiped them away because she daren’t allow herself to be rendered blind by them, not even for a second.

  “Nobody is beyond help,” Callum warned.

  “You can’t do anything,” Molly shouted. “You can’t stop him. Look, he is here.”

  She pointed a shaking hand at the thug, who was leaning against the wall of a pub on the corner of the street. His chest was heaving, and he was bent over at the waist from the exertion of the last few moments, but he was still there, posing as much of a threat as he had when he had tried to drag her into the warehouse yard. With the presence of the two strong, agile, and determined men now edging closer to her, Molly knew she would need a fine miracle indeed if she had any hope of escaping all of them.

  “I don’t believe in miracles,” she whispered. “They don’t happen.”

  As she talked, her gaze flickered to the busy landscape on the opposite side of the river. The heavy cluster of buildings of all shapes and sizes seated beneath a heavy cloud of soot and smog nestled beside a large, wildly flowing river was shockingly claustrophobic enough; defeating enough that Molly knew she could spend the rest of her life searching it for Oscar and might never find him. Even if he was there, she had no idea which of those houses he might be in, or even if he was outside somewhere. She had spent the last several weeks looking for him but had so far not found even a hint of where he might be. He certainly hadn’t turned up at Uncle Barry’s old house, or was living on the streets in the area, as far as she could tell, or was staying even temporarily with any of Uncle Barry’s closest friends. The thought that Molly might never find her brother was as terrifying as it was overwhelmingly depressing.

  “I am looking for a needle in a haystack,” she whispered, more to herself than to the men.

  Jasper frowned when he saw her lips move as she talked to herself, but he wasn’t close enough to hear what she had said. He had to wonder if she was in her right mind or so overset by something that she was nonsensical. Given what had just happened to her, fear was understandable. Jasper contemplated what to do. He was helpless to try to find a way to get her to trust him. He looked at Callum who infinitesimally shook his head as if to say he had no idea what to do about her either.

  “What is your name?” Jasper murmured gently.

  Molly turned her gaze back to him. Her eyes widened when she realised just how close he was. Something deep within her yearned to be able to lean her head against that broad shoulder of his and simply be – if only briefly - so she could regain her strength.

  “Molly,” she replied. Her voice was dull with the weight of her defeat. She had no idea why she told him. The words were out before she could prevent them.

  “My name is Jasper.”

  “Why are you telling me this?” she whispered with a frown of distrust.

  “Because I want you to listen to me, Molly. I was in the yard that thug tried to drag you into. Do you know him?”

  Molly shook her head.

  “Has he asked you for money or possessions? Things you own?” He had no idea if she was compos mentis enough to be able to understand him. Privately, the thought that if someone as beautiful as her was nonsensical, and fit for an asylum, it was a bloody painful waste of human life. So much so, he wanted to howl with rage against it. But he couldn’t do that. What he did instead was force himself to soften his stance.

  “No,” Molly replied.

  “Have you met him before? Is he a lover?” Jasper persisted. He wanted to know, so he had some idea of what to arrest the blackguard for.

  He watched Molly’s eyes widen at the suggestion she might have an illicit liaison. If only temporarily, she had such an outraged look on her face that he wondered if she was going to stop forward and slap him, and he knew then that she was a genteel lady, not a woman of the streets.

  Thank God for small mercies.

  What he suspected was that someone as gorgeous as the young woman before him would become a lady of the streets if he didn’t get her to safety before the vulture circling behind him had his way.

  “No. He is not my lover, and I am offended you should think I had one,” she replied dourly.

  Molly inadvertently realised she had started to relax when she found herself slumping against the iron railing behind her. Immediately, she jerked back upright again, her spine rigidly determined. She scowled at the handsome rogue and forced herself to harden her heart against the irresistible lure of the gentleness in his voice.

  “Do you know him?”

  “I have told you already. No.”

  “Did he tell you why he was trying to get you into the warehouse? Did he make any suggestions of any kind? I know I have asked you before but I want you to think carefully about what happened. You were struggling with him and upset at the time. There might have been something you missed,” Jasper phrased his question delicately in case he triggered her fear again and made her do something foolish, like jump into the river. He knew she was contemplating it given the way she kept looking over her shoulder at it, as though privately judging if she should jump, how she should jump, and how she was going to get to where she needed to go if she went in.

  “I can promise you that if you go in there you will be dead within a few minutes. There is no way out of that raging tide. It will carry you right out to sea,” Jasper warned.

  He mentally prayed that he wouldn’t have to go in there after her, not least because it was bloody cold at the best of times, and full of all sorts of unmentionables. If shock from the icy water didn’t kill him, or the raging tide that would be determined to drag him out to sea, he would be lucky if he didn’t catch some sort of wasting disease that would bring about a long, slow, lingering death.

  “I don’t care,” Molly whispered.

  In that moment, she truly didn’t. She had no idea where that came from. She had never been someone who caved in easily before, but in this situation, Molly knew she was completely out of her depth – before she jumped into the water. It had been the worst mistake of her life to think she could come to a huge city like London, find her brother, and start afresh somewhere with him in a new home, somewhere away from everything she was familiar with. It had been immature, ignorant of her, and had left her in a more vulnerable position than she had been in at her Aunt Edith’s house.

  “Nothing in life can be that bad,” Jasper replied calmly. “You are young. You have your whole life ahead of you. It is there to be lived.”

  “You know nothing,” Molly replied.

  “I know you are going to do something that will get you killed. Why? What does he want with you? What could you have done that is so bad you would be prepared to kill yourself to avoid him?”

  “I haven’t done anything,” Molly protested. “That’s the point. I haven’t done anything to anybody to deserve it, but my life is not my own. My life has been handed over to others to steal, and it isn’t worth carrying on.”

  “It has to be,” Jasper warned.

  “It isn’t you who can say that,” Molly replied. She tipped her chin up defiantly. “You have choices. You can come and go as you please, make your own decisions and nobody will question you, try to take control and order you about, try to thieve your life, your home, and your very soul. You know nothing.”

  “Is he responsible?” Jasper pointed at
the thug now looking warily at Callum who was slowly edging closer to him.

  “No. Yes. Partly. People like him.” Molly turned a direct gaze on the handsome man before her. “People like you.”

  “I would never try to steal your life,” Jasper assured her.

  “Really? So why are you the kind of person who fights in gangs at warehouses then? Why are you the kind of person who seems to be surrounded by thugs? Why does he not seem surprised to find you talking to me? Why is he not trying to get you out of the way but allowing you to do his work for him? If you are not together, why are you in this part of London?” She raked him with a belligerent glare. “You are one and the same.”

  She was truly disgusted with herself for having spent so long talking to him. It wasn’t at all that she wanted to die, not least because she still needed to find Oscar. However, she had no other way out of the area. She had to go into the water. Her legs were shaking far too much to ever be able to carry her anywhere else, even if she knew where to go. She was also tired. Exhausted. So bone achingly shattered that she simply couldn’t think anymore. Molly was cold, hungry, and so fed up of battling, well, everything only to have no choices anyway that she would rather face the raging tide than another single moment of the smut laden city full of crappy thugs and street brawling vagrants.

  As if to reiterate her thoughts, a loud bang suddenly shattered the silence. Swiftly following it was a long, loud scream the likes of which came only from a tormented soul. The frantic barks of a dog echoed around the empty streets but were interspersed with the haunting wail of a distressed feline. Around it all was the heady, never ending bustle of a busy city that never truly seemed to be at rest.

  “I am nothing to do with him,” Jasper promised her. “Do we look alike?”

  Jasper looked at the man behind them.

  “Of course you don’t, but you don’t need to even if you work together,” Molly protested.

  “Doing what?”

  “How should I know?” Molly spat, her cheeks flooding with rage.

  Jasper’s lips twitched when he looked at her.

  “Do you find this funny?” Molly cried, horrified that he was sadistic enough to be laughing at her. This was her life that had been stolen. This was her flight for freedom and safety from people who truly wanted to kill her she was fighting for, and he had the audacity, the sickness of mind, to find it amusing.

  Jasper sighed. While he was relieved that she was fighting once more, he knew he had just dug a deeper hole for himself.

  “I want to know what he wants with you,” Jasper said.

  “Go and ask him.”

  “You don’t know then?”

  “I have just said that I don’t,” Molly retorted coldly.

  “Do you live around here?” Jasper asked. “Why are you out unchaperoned?”

  “Unchaperoned?”

  “Yes,” Jasper frowned. “You know. With somebody. You are young, pretty, single. Why are you out on the street all by yourself? Do you have any idea how much danger you put yourself in when you go out alone?”

  “Do you think I want to be out here all alone? What, do you think I get so bored with my stuffy pompous life of a lady that I come out all alone to challenge myself?” Molly cried.

  “I don’t know why you are out here. Why don’t you tell me,” Jasper urged. “Do you live around here?”

  “No.”

  “Are you from London?” Jasper persisted.

  “No.”

  “Where are you from?”

  Molly looked at him.

  Jasper sighed. “Fine. Are you staying with relations here?”

  “No.”

  Jasper squinted at her. “Are you visiting friends?”

  “No.”

  He placed his hands on his hips and levelled her with a look. “Don’t you think you are a bit too old to be running away from home?”

  Molly shook her head at him. “Don’t you think you are a bit too old to be making assumptions about people?”

  “It isn’t assumption,” Jasper murmured as he studied her. He wondered if she should rattle her some more just to make sure that when she did return home to mummy and daddy, she bloody well stayed there.

  “Well, you certainly don’t know much, do you?” Molly fell silent then because she had run away from home. Aunt Edith’s house, for what it was, had been her home, even if she had hated it. She had left it without telling anybody and had snuck away. Did that constitute running away? She couldn’t be sure, but she wasn’t Oscar. Oscar had run away.

  Or been abducted.

  Oscar was young, so very young that just the thought of him being in a city like this all alone, and at the merciless hands of a kidnapper, was enough to bring Molly to her knees.

  “I need to go,” Molly informed Jasper, as though he should care.

  “Where to? It isn’t safe for you to walk anywhere now, not least because your friend back there is going to follow you. Why don’t you allow me to escort you? I will keep you safe,” Jasper promised.

  Molly was already shaking her head, not least because he looked as though he had been chewed by the dog that continued to bark furiously, and only increased in volume when a disgruntled homeowner bellowed at it to shut up.

  “Yes, I am sure you think you can,” she murmured, and watched Jasper’s brows shoot skyward.

  “You don’t think I can?” Jasper grinned. There was nothing he liked more than a challenge.

  “If you can, why are you all covered in cuts and bruises?” Molly waved a finger at the state of him.

  Jasper shrugged. “Because I have been fighting the likes of him, who thought he could accost me and my friends. You see, you are not the only person men like him have preyed on tonight.”

  “What does he want with you?”

  “How in the Hell should I know? These men are thieves, cut throats, and pick-pockets. If they see a pretty young woman like you walking all alone, they will surround you and take from you whatever they deem valuable.” He paused for a moment and met her gaze directly. “Including your virtue. To them it’s a challenge. They won’t feel bad about it. People like that have no morals. Without morals there are no scruples, without scruples there is no conscience. Without conscience, people – criminals – like that will think they can do whatever they want to whomever they want without facing justice. They will also take whatever they want and not expect people to object to it. People who do object are there to be attacked, because in the criminal’s tiny mind, they are the only cut-throats with the moral right to thieve things that don’t belong to them. Someone’s body, virtue, soul, is theirs and theirs only. It isn’t for anybody to thieve it or attack it, but criminals like him and his friends will try.”

  Molly knew he was right. She wished she could find something, a small ray of light, a tiny kernel of argument in his statement but couldn’t. The picture he had just painting of the attitude of the cretin who had attacked her and tried to steal her virtue said everything. Men like the thug had no conscience. They wouldn’t feel bad about the soul they tried to steal. They wouldn’t feel bad about taking someone’s life to try to escape justice.

  “They twist things, Molly. People like that usually work in gangs. They think that the others in the gang can lie for them, protest their innocence and that being surrounded by people just like them make them safe. Unfortunately, they rely on others keeping their mouths shut if their own Fates hang in the balance. A cut-throat thief will hardly ever have any morals toward anybody. Once a person’s soul – no matter whose it is – is stolen, or damaged, that thief, cut-throat, whatever you wish to call them, will steal or damage another - anybody – especially if their own futures and lives are at stake. They will, and often do, turn on each other. That, my dear, is fact.”

  “You sound as though you know from experience,” Molly mused.

  Jasper had spoken with such fervency that she didn’t doubt him. She knew the man on the street corner wouldn’t give in. Whatever it was he
wanted from her he wouldn’t leave until he had taken it.

  It is me he wants to take – far, far, away from here.

  “Do you read, Molly?” Jasper asked.

  “Pardon?” Molly lifted her brows.

  “Not everybody does, but do you? Read, that is?” Jasper persisted.

  “I have read the broadsheet last week,” she replied, unsure where he was going with this.

  “Have you read the main article about the kidnappings of young women in Leicestershire and Derbyshire?” Jasper asked curiously.

  Molly went cold all over. She began to shake even though she jerkily shook her head. Everything within her was screaming at her to not say anything, but she answered before she could quell the urge.

  “Then you know the women who have been snatched from there are just like you. Young. Pretty. With dark blond hair. Slender. They were snatched off the street, right from the centre of the villages they lived in, and nobody noticed a damned thing. Unfortunately, nobody has seen or heard anything of them since.”

  “It was you,” she whispered in horror.

  Molly clutched the iron railing behind her with tighter fingers. Her horrified gaze lingered on him while her heart fell to her knees. She had no idea why she should feel so emotionally battered by the thought of him being so cold-bloodied. She felt as though she had lost something, but that was foolish because this man before her was nothing to her. He had appeared out of nowhere roughly around the same time as the thug, and that was suspicious enough in its own right.

  I mustn’t forget that. He did appear at the same time that the thug tried to drag me off the streets.

  “I am not going anywhere with either of you. I don’t care who you are, what you want with me, or why you are here, but I am not going to just blindly follow either of you. Do you understand me?”

  “Molly. I am not going to hurt you,” Jasper assured her again.