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The air between them crackled with tension, and they stubbornly refused to back down. The sound of approaching hoofbeats grew ever louder, a constant reminder of the danger closing in around them.

Grace’s heart pounded in her chest, a mix of fear and something else—something warmer, more confusing—unfurled inside as she held Ford’s gaze. She saw the same stubborn determination in his eyes that she felt in her own heart.

Finally, he broke their stare and raised his eyes heavenward, then glanced toward the sounds of approaching people on horseback. Some shouts could be heard now, although the words were indecipherable. “Fine,” he growled, his jaw clenching. “If you’re not hiding, then we are both running.” Without waiting for her response, Ford’s calloused hand enveloped Grace’s delicate one, his grip firm but not painful. He tugged her along, moving swiftly in the opposite direction of the encroaching noise.

For a moment, it seemed fate might be kind—the thunderous hoofbeats appeared to be moving past them, perhaps a few streets away. Grace’s hope surged, her breath coming in quick gasps. Then, the cacophony of horses ceased. In the eerie silence that followed, a new sound emerged—the soft yet menacing pitter-patter of multiple footsteps. The noise seemed to come from all directions, closing in like a net.

Ford cursed under his breath, his fingers tightening around her hand.

Grace noticed a narrow alley a few feet to the right. If they could get there, they would be able to circle back toward the street leading back in the direction of her house. Perhaps this way they would be able to outsmart their pursuers and—

“In the name of the King, I urge you to stop!” The commanding voice rang out from the left, cutting through the tension-filled air. Grace whirled around, her heart pounding in her chest, to see three men wearing King’s Guard uniforms stand there, horseless, their swords unsheathed.

Ford pulled out his dagger in an instant, quickly shielding Grace with his body, putting himself between her and the armed men.

“Ford Gunning,” the man said. Grace glanced at Ford. Did he know the man? “We have no qualms with you. We are here for Grace Holland, also known as Madame Tricheuse and the owner of The House of Pain and Pleasure.”

A heavy silence fell. Ford glanced back, and she could swear she saw pain in his eyes. He’d learned that she and Madame Tricheuse were one and the same just a few moments ago. But now he had received the confirmation. And by the look of it, it hurt.

“Please, step away.” Grace attempted to push past him, but Ford gripped her waist and shoved her behind his wide back.

“What are the grounds for her detainment?” Ford’s voice was low and controlled, but Grace could hear the underlying tension.

“You are a thief-taker, Gunning,” the man said calmly. “You know that there were orders for her capture weeks ago for the murder of Lord Portsmouth.”

“Well, the order was wrong. She didn’t kill him. You know me, Lockley. I can prove—”

The man raised a staying hand and shook his head. Then, he proceeded to talk as if he hadn’t heard Ford speak. “We can overlook you not handing her in instantly and just assume you were on your way to collect your bounty. But we shall take it from here.”

“You won’t be taking anyone.” There was a primal, almost possessive tone in his voice.

“Step aside, and let us take her, or you will be considered an accomplice.”

Grace gripped his arm. “Ford. It’s done—”

“Don’t you dare,” he growled at her.

The man tsked. “You are trying our patience, Gunning. If you don’t step aside, we shall detain you both.”

“You are making a mistake.” Ford’s voice was still firm, loud, controlled.

“Step. Aside,” the officer warned.

“I will not.”

“Ford!” Grace cried just as he hurled his dagger at the man’s shoulder, successfully disarming him.

“Go!” Ford cried and pulled Grace into a sprint. Her mind racing as fast as her feet, Grace quickly steered them toward the narrow alley she’d spotted earlier. They squeezed through the tight passage, the rough brick walls scraping their arms as they emerged on the other side.

Her eyes widened at the sight before them: three horses stood unattended, clearly belonging to the King’s men who had dismounted to catch them unawares. Her quick glance backward confirmed their pursuers weren’t far behind.

He dashed toward the nearest horse and smoothly mounted the animal in one fluid motion. The shouts of the King’s men grew louder, their footsteps echoing off the cobblestones. Ford reached down, his strong arm extended toward Grace.

He hauled her up by her arm, tossing her in the air. Grace landed unceremoniously in his lap with a surprised “Umph!”

Her limbs flailed as she struggled to find her balance on the unfamiliar perch. Snaking his arm around her waist and pulling her firmly against his chest, Ford urged the horse into a gallop.

The king’s men were either so surprised at their swift escape or were too busy tending to their wounded colleague, but either way; they let a few key moments pass before, finally, the shot rang behind them.