Page 32 of The Storybook Hero
“Don’t be idiots!” cried Ilya as the two other stumbled back another several paces. “She’s only one bullet and there are three of us!”
Octavia paused and drew a bead on each of the men in turn. “So who wishes to be the lucky one? You? You? Or you?”
Ilya snarled a curse at her, then waved his hand at his comrades. “Split up, fools! Come at her from three directions.”
Fear gripped at her heart. The man was right—there seemed to be no way out of this coil. Her mind raced, trying desperately to come up with some plan that might hold them at bay. Fortunately, the two men behind the leader still hesitated in obeying his command, allowing her a few extra seconds to think.
Then Ilya slowly took a nasty looking knife from his own pocket and spat on the floor. “Afraid of a damn woman? I’ll show you how to deal with the bitch.” The blade cut through the air in a menacing swipe. “You are going to pay for this!”
Just as he was about to lunge forward, the front door swung open once again. Ilya’s head jerked around. “I told you, coachman, get out of here or you shall have your gut carved up when we’ve finished with these two.”
The figure silhouetted in the door was not, however, that of the driver Fetisov, but rather a much taller, leaner man. Glancing quickly from the group of men brandishing knives to Octavia with her pistol outstretched in a slightly trembling arm, a faint smile stole to the newcomer’s lips.
“Why, Miss Hadley. I am glad to see that in the face of three assailants you have the good sense not to count on your knee.”
Eight
“Mr. Leigh! What on earth areyoudoing here?”
His lips quirked. “Come, Miss Hadley, I should have expected something a good deal more dramatic than that. You might say, ‘Oh, thank the heavens that my daring rescuer has arrived!’ Or you might at least swoon.”
She glared at him. “That’snotfunny. This is no time for jesting.”
“No, I can see that.” His expression immediately turned serious. “You have done extremely well for yourself, but now, perhaps you would allow me to take that pistol from you. I fancy I have a good deal more experience with such things than you.”
She started to turn.
“Pray, do not alter your aim, Miss Hadley,” he said calmly as he stepped inside the inn. “I am going to move to your side, but I suggest neither of us take our eyes off of these fellows.”
Ilya flung a particularly obscene curse at Alex, then kicked a chair over to punctuate to his mounting frustration. “Who is this son of a whore? What in the name of the devil are they saying?” he demanded in a querulous voice, for the last little exchange had taken place entirely in English.
“What we have been saying is that if you and those other two mangy curs don’t take yourselves off instantly, I shall be forced to ram what few teeth you possess down your gullet,” answered Alex in Russian. “Which I may still do if you utter one more rude word in front of the ladies.”
With a roar of fury, Ilya launched himself at new arrival, blade flashing in his outstretched hand. At the last moment, Alex twisted neatly aside. As he did so, his boot dealt a solid blow to the back of the other man’s knee, drawing a scream of pain as the Russian sprawled to the floor. With uncanny quickness, however, Ilya rolled on his shoulder and sprung back to his feet. The knife was still in his hand, and with another angry curse he came at Alex again, this time a bit more warily.
Octavia bit her lip. The man was too close to Alex for her to risk a shot.
“What are you standing there for, like pigs stuck in mud?” he snarled at his companions as he feinted a slash at Alex’s ribs. “He has no weapon. Grab him!” The knife darted forward again. “You miserable bastard, I’ll roast your liver over the coals for interfering with me.”
The two men glanced nervously at the pistol that quickly jerked around to point at them.
“One step and I assure you I shall pull the trigger!” warned Octavia. Her tone left little doubt as to her resolve. The two men melted back into the shadows, drawing a jeer from their leader.
“Cowards,” grunted Ilya. “Running away like old women. I’ll show you how to deal with these two.” With a series of wild jabs of the blade, he forced Alex to retreat in the direction of the heavy pine bar. Despite his stocky build and a surfeit of alcohol, he moved with a cagey quickness. It was clear that this sort of situation was one he was well used to. A nasty smile curled on his lips as another flick of the knife caused Alex to back up again.In another few steps he would be trapped up against the long expanse of roughhewn wood.
“Mr. Leigh, have a care! The bar is close behind you!” called Octavia. Her attention was riveted on Ilya’s flashing blade. Things seemed quite dire for her would-be rescuer but he appeared unruffled by the danger.
“Thank you, Miss Hadley. I am aware of it.” He flicked a chair in his attacker’s way, causing him to stumble slightly. Spinning deftly around a second chair, Alex edged to one side, gaining a bit more space between the two of them.
Octavia squinted through the smoky haze. “I believe I have a shot, Mr. Leigh. Shall I pull the trigger?”
He ducked around a small table. “Pray, not quite yet. I think I should rather risk a knife than your aim.”
“Really! I am only trying to?—”
“Miss Hadley! Watch out!” Emma tugged at Octavia’s coat, just as an arm lunged at the pistol in her hand. She fell back with a cry of surprise, narrowly averting the man’s grasp. As she did so, the weapon slipped from her hands and clattered to the floor. In an instant, her assailant dropped to his knees and began pawing around under a table for where it had fallen.
Furious with herself for allowing such a thing to happen, Octavia was determined not to allow him to gain the upper hand. Her eyes fell on a nearby bottle, still half full with vodka. She grabbed hold of it, and when the man’s head came up with a cry of triumph on his lips, she swung with all her might.
