Thomas was in the middle of everything and had been since he’d opened the door. He had a word or a greeting for everyone. As he moved through the coffee room, he was all smiles and solicitousness. In the shop, he had a ready story about why he’d chosen this coffee or that tobacco over others. Raeni didn’t have to wonder if his shop would be a success. There was no question.
And quite suddenly she had tears in her eyes. The thought of leaving the office where she’d spent so many hours the past few weeks pained her. She’d felt at home there, and she had rarely ever felt at home. She’d felt at home in Thomas’s arms as well, and now he would never hold her again.
She withdrew, not wanting anyone to see her tears and ask what the matter might be. She would have to pass through the back room with all the men who worked there to go to the office, so instead she went out the side door behind the kitchen. In the narrow alley, she leaned against the wall of the building and wiped tears from her eyes. She was strong. She had left everything and everyone she had known in Jamaica for an uncertain future in a place called England. She could do it again. She’d start over, and this time she would be smarter. This time she wouldn’t allow any man to claim her heart because the risk of having to say good-bye again was too great.
She took a shuddering breath, feeling a little stronger. Perhaps now was the best time to tell Thomas farewell. Now, before she lost her nerve and while he was still so busy that it would be a quick ending. Better to do it quickly as they’d drawn the pain out long enough.
“Look at this, Elias. She’s come straight to us.”
Raeni’s head jerked up. She’d been so lost in thought that she hadn’t noticed the two men blocking the exit to the alley. They were large white men, dressed in the loose trousers, white linen shirts, and open coats sailors wore. One carried a burlap sack and one carried a pistol. She’d never seen them before, but she knew who they were—slavers. They’d been hired by her father to bring her back to Jamaica.
The slavers blocked her exit to Bond Street, and when she glanced in the other direction, she saw the alley had been walled off.
“There’s no way out,” the slaver with the burlap sack said. Presumably he would put that over her head to stifle any cries she might make before he could shove her in a closed coach and have her driven to his ship. “If you don’t fight us, we won’t hurt you.”
She reached back, feeling for the door latch. “You wouldn’t dare hurt me. My father is paying you to bring me back in good condition.”
“Put your hands where we can see them,” the slaver with the pistol said, moving closer. Raeni held her hands up. “And the trip to Jamaica will take weeks. That’s plenty of time for any bruises to heal.”
Raeni’s mind raced. The men were too close for her to open the door to the back room of the shop. Once she turned her back, they’d race forward and grab her while she struggled with the latch. She had no choice but to fight her way past them and into the street. Then she could run. Raeni slid along the wall, closer to the street as the men closed in. “You know what you’re doing is abduction, and it’s illegal. I’m free in this country.”
The man with the burlap sack lifted it. “Your father said to bring you back, and he’s paying. Now stand still.” He lunged toward her, and she cut under his arm and ran toward the street. But she wasn’t fast enough. The man with the pistol grabbed her arm and hauled her painfully back. She twisted, saw his white hand on her arm, and bit him.
With a howl he released her and stumbled back into his compatriot. Raeni lifted her skirts and ran. She emerged onto Bond Street with the men right behind her. She didn’t pause but ran away from the crowds gathering before Bond Street Coffee & Tobacco. The crowds might slow her and give the men a chance to catch her. Londoners might not like the idea of a slaver abducting a runaway slave, but that didn’t mean they would step in and interfere.
She ran along Bond Street, the slavers right behind her. She toppled a costermonger’s cart, spilling fruit in the slavers’ path, and pushed men and women in her way aside. Finally, she crossed the street and glanced behind her to judge how much of a lead she had. The slavers were attempting to extricate themselves from the angry costermonger and hadn’t spotted her yet. Ahead of her was The Greedy Vicar. She headed straight for it and ducked inside.
“Oh, you look all out of breath,” said the woman who greeted her.
Raeni was out of breath. She could barely speak. “I need the...the...” She gasped for air.
“Are you the lady from the tobacco shop? The one that works with Mr. Gaines?”
Raeni nodded.
“What’s the matter then? You look as if you’re being chased.”
Raeni nodded. “Yes. The constable. I need a constable.”
The woman’s eyes bulged. “The constable? Oh, dear.” She pushed Raeni onto a bench just inside the pub. “Now you wait right here. I’ll go fetch him.”
Raeni nodded, her lungs burning and her eyes stinging with unshed tears. Why hadn’t she left last night? Why had she waited? She’d put everyone in danger by staying. She should have been far away from London. Instead, she was hiding in a tavern, praying the serving wench would hurry back with the constable.
The door banged open, and Raeni jumped. She looked up, hoping to see the constable. Her hope died when the slavers stepped inside. The one with the pistol pointed the weapon at her chest. “I’m tired of games. Come with me now or I use this.”
She knew her father had told the men to bring her back alive, but they looked angry enough not to care.
“The constable is on his way,” she panted. “You should run now.”
“Not without you.” The slaver with the burlap sack grabbed her arm and shoved the sack over her head. The world went dark and smelled of her own fear and barley, which must have been the contents of the sack before it had been emptied. She tried to fight, but she couldn’t see, and the men easily caught her. She screamed and pain bloomed in her head. She’d been hit. She reeled back just as a fist landed in her belly. She crumpled to the floor, breathless.
Limp with pain, she was lifted and tossed over one of the slaver’s shoulders as though she were a sack of flour. They began to move, taking her out of the tavern. Once they were out on the street, they could quickly disappear. The constable would never find her. She heard the bell above the tavern door tinkle and then a voice she knew well.
“Going somewhere, gentlemen?”
Thomas! Relief at knowing he’d found her was quickly replaced by fear. They would kill him. She tried to call out to him, to tell him no, but she couldn’t seem to find the breath.
“Move out of the way or we’ll bring you back with us too.”
“Give me Miss Sawyer, and I’ll gladly step aside.”
“Why don’t I give you a pistol ball to the forehead instead?”
Raeni screamed and struggled, and in the next instant she was falling, landing hard on the floor. She could hear grunts and a scuffle and tore at the sack, finally pulling it off her head. The pistol had fallen to the floor and the two men were taking turns throwing punches at Thomas, who was ducking and throwing his own punches as well. Raeni lunged for the pistol, her hand closing on it just as the slavers noticed she was free and turned to her. Raeni lifted the pistol and trained it on the men.