Tanglewood lunged at them just as Kaederman punched Margo in the solar plexus. She doubled up with a gagging sound and he dragged her back with the gun to her head. “Get back, damn you, or I’ll kill her!”
Skeeter tried to crawl to his feet, stunned and gasping against pain to his ribs, bruising pain from that shot to his body armor. Kaederman kicked him in the gut, dumping him to the ground again, and dragged his hostage into the street where he flung her into a cab. Then Kaederman lunged up and shouted at the driver, who sped away with a clatter, swerving into traffic at a reckless pace. Skeeter and Tanglewood bolted in pursuit—and found their way blocked by two burly constables.
“What’s going on, here?” the taller policeman demanded.
“That man’s a killer!” Skeeter gasped, pointing at the vanishing hansom cab. “He’s taken a girl hostage! We have to stop him!”
Tanglewood dashed into the street, scooping up Margo’s revolver in one fluid movement while flagging down another cab. “Skeeter! Come on!”
The constables grabbed for him and missed. A moment later, the cab driver was racing down Pall Mall in pursuit. Skeeter clung to the side of the rocketing hansom to avoid being flung out as they whipped between carriages at a reckless pace. Douglas Tanglewood was swearing nonstop. “Goddammit, what a bloody mess!”
“What’m I gonna tell Kit?” Skeeter groaned, closing his eyes against the very thought. “What in the world am I gonna tell Kit? And the others . . .” He could hear the voices already, could picture the freezing contempt. And where were you, Skeeter, when Margo was abducted by that killer? Ah, gambling . . . Well, of course you were, Skeeter, who could expect anything better of you . . .