By Allie Pleiter
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Matthew remembered the bag. He considered throwing it to the lad, but that would force him to step into the light again, and the men were already scrambling to their feet. When Matthew noticed the pair lacked guns or holsters—a rare but fortunate circumstance—he calmly drew the revolver from his side. The unmistakable click of the hammer stopped them cold. He let the silver tip of the gun catch the moonlight, and the pair promptly fled, disappearing around the corner. Exhaling, Matthew holstered the gun and picked up the bag.
Ten steps farther he stopped. He fiddled with his pockets some more, then looked up at her and said, “Would you…would you like me to read you the episode? You said you enjoyed it so much the other night at dinner. ” She watched him fumble, trying to cover his all-too-obvious desire to set things right between them. “I suppose we don’t even need to discuss anything at all, just take in the view and…” “Yes,” she agreed eagerly. ” He smiled, a wonderful, warm smile. And when he pulled her hand into the crook of his elbow to cross the street, she felt the earlier glow come back.
How could he not? Matthew took four huge strides, readying the whip as he went. Silently, staying in the building’s shadow, he lifted his arm. Set up. Turn. He sent the long arc of leather hissing through the air, to crack angrily half a foot to the right of the boy’s captor. The knife was too close to the lad’s throat to chance it, but the crack had the effect needed. As the burly man yelped and flinched, Matthew sent his whip out again, this time around the small bag. He gave a precise yank, sending the purse sailing into the air to land a few feet in front of him.