Page 21 of Summoner of Sins

“Damn it,” he muttered even as he pulled Sophie toward the door.

Dashing out into the darkness, he followed the garden wall, even as the shouts of several footmen filled the night.

His breath shot out of his chest as he laid eyes on the garden door. He knew it was locked, and the wood slats were thick, the hinges large. He could try to kick it down. Shaking his head, he stopped, lifting the child to set her atop the six-foot wall.

“Come now,” he said, grabbing Sophie’s waist and lifting her.

She weighed far more than he’d imagined, and he grunted with the effort to lift her up past his shoulders.

“Sorry about that,” she whispered back, even as the voices of the men searching for them grew louder.

He set her on the wall and heaved himself up and over. Then he reached up his arms. “Abigail first.”

Sophie reached for the girl, handing her down to him. He set her just to his right and then she jumped into arms.

That’s when he felt it. Her dress was like a knight’s armor. Heavy and filled with metal. “What the…”

“I’ll explain later.”

With a nod, he picked up Abigail and took Sophie’s hand. They dashed to his carriage at the end of the alley. He heard the shouts, and looking back, he saw several men pouring from the gate and coming over the wall. Moving faster, he pulled a stumbling Sophie behind him. The men pressed closer, and it was a race to make it to the carriage in time.

“Get ready,” he shouted at his driver.

That’s when from behind them, a shot rang out in the night.

He felt Sophie jolt. Stumble.

His eyes grew wide as she nearly fell. Wrapping an arm around her, he dragged her against him, carrying them both the final steps to the carriage as he set Abigail down and then hopped inside with Sophie. “Go, damn it, go!”

The driver snapped the reins, and the carriage jerked to a start even as another shot rang out in the night. He barely heard the sound as he sat on the floor between the seats, Sophie tight in his arms. Had she been hit?

CHAPTER EIGHT

Sophie slumped against Max, her lungs feeling as though they were on fire, her ribs aching.

“Sophie,” Max growled. “Tell me where it hurts.”

“My…my back.”

She heard the distant sound of her dress tearing, but she was focused on breathing in and out. With each breath, the pain receded a bit more. That’s when the cool air fanned her shoulders. She burrowed down deeper into Max’s lap, her face once again, nestled into the crook of his neck.

“Sophie,” he said, his voice achingly gentle. “I’m just going to move you so that I can look at your back.”

“It doesn’t hurt so much,” she said into the collar of his shirt. “I think I’m all right.”

With his arm curled around her body, his other hand searched her skin. He stopped when she winced in pain, her skin clearly cut. “But…”

Next, he was pulling at the fabric of her bodice. “What the hell is in this thing?”

“Coin,” she answered. “Everything I’ve been able to save.”

“Christ,” he muttered, twisting the bodice in his hand. “I think the bullet caught a coin.”

“What?” she sat up then. “I was shot?”

That made him chuckle. “Technically, no.” He wrapped both arms around her, squeezing her tightly to his chest.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, the inside of her biceps brushing the stubble of his chin. The rough skin felt delicious, and she pressed her cheek to the other side of his jaw, rubbing her face against him.

---