one appeared save another pair of redcoats. There were eight of them now. Their freshly polished Hessian boots gleamed in the moonlight.
As the gravity of her situation compounded, her thoughts raced in time to her quickening heart. The enemy soldiers moved closer, their indistinct voices carried on the breeze.
“If you’re no traitor, explain the many secrets that have passed from your hand to mine?”
“I’ve shared only what my superiors wanted you rebel scum to know. Remember last month, when I sent you the message about supply wagons leaving Charles Towne for Savannah?”
“Of course.” She tried to ease away from the pistol. The Colonial army never ceased being desperate for supplies. At the time, the information she’d carried from Hawk to her spymaster had been considered a boon. “Then the attack was a trap. It seemed too coincidental. Did you assist in the murder of those men yourself?”
He laughed. “What do you think?”
She broke into a clammy sweat. If Hawk succeeded in turning her in, she doubted even her gender would save her from hanging.
Dear Lord, please help me.
Four of the redcoats made for the tavern’s back door. Her pulse throbbed in her ears as her thoughts shifted frantically. So much began to make sense. How many times had she rendezvoused with Hawk, only to find his information had become mysteriously inaccessible? Yet, many of his leads had been first-rate. Hawk had earned a glowing reputation within the Patriot ranks. Now she understood why. He’d kept her and her contacts hooked with promises of important information, providing just enough to earn their trust.
“This is ridiculous.” She stalled in an effort to reason with him. “There must be a bargain we can strike.”
She had to flee, but how? Hawk held a pistol to her head. Soldiers waited below, both inside and out. She could no longer make use of the ladder Josiah had propped outside the window. She’d be shot, either by Hawk or his lobsterback friends before she ever touched the ground.
“Ridiculous?” Hawk’s hot, menacing breath fanned the back of her neck. “I disagree. If anything, I find the situation most unfortunate. More than once I wished we weren’t on opposing sides in this war. Under different circumstances, you’re a man I could respect.”
“Then kill me if you plan to. I’ve no wish to meet my captors, and you know I’ll tell them nothing.”
“Most likely not. All the same, keep your hands against the panes. ’Tis safer when I can make out where they are.”
While she considered her options, she allowed him the liberty of searching her, careful not to give him an impatient trigger finger. His hand dipped beneath her cloak and inside her loose wool coat, feeling for weapons. Waiting for the right moment to strike, she held her breath. She’d bound her breasts with strips of cloth under her billowy black shirt and vest, but failed to flatten them completely. When his hand passed over her chest, she heard his sharp intake of breath. “No! You can’t be a woman!”
In one quick movement, she swung her arm and knocked the pistol away from her temple. The foot she had poised on the windowsill slammed downward. Her heel found its mark, crushing his toes. Hawk bellowed in pain. His hold slackened enough for her to face him.
The candle’s small flame sputtered in the draft, providing meager light to see the masked man she stood with eye to eye. She rammed her fist into his stomach, winding him. He recovered quickly, raising the pistol an inch from her face. She swiped the barrel away, then tried to wrench it from his grasp.
Hawk released her waist and lashed out with the back of his hand. The blow to her jaw stunned her. She stumbled back in pain, loosening her grip on the weapon as she hit the wall behind her.
“Hold your ground!” Hawk snarled. “I’d hate to shoot a woman, but I will if you force me to.”
Staring down the barrel of the pistol, Elise stilled. She could turn and run, making her back a perfect target, or she could stand and fight. Hawk was bigger, stronger, but she was fighting for her life. The redcoats considered a captured spy fair game for hanging. She had no wish to die in so shameful a manner.
Better to take a bullet than dangle in the breeze.
She ducked and threw herself forward, scrambling to reach him before he fired. Leading with her shoulder, Elise plowed into him with the full force of her weight, driving him back several paces until he slammed against a table. Hawk fumbled the weapon and dropped it to the floor, where it landed with a solid thump on the wood planks.
Their eyes locked for an instant. They both lunged for the pistol. Hawk reached it first.
Elise rallied before he took aim and fought with all her might. Her ribs ached. Her jaw throbbed. Fear coursed through her blood. Her arms and legs burned from the exertion of fighting her stronger opponent. Finally, she succeeded in twisting his wrist until the pistol’s barrel pointed at his belly.
“Stop this wretched business,” she demanded, panting for breath. “Let me go!”
“Ha! Think again, you rebel wench.”
He grabbed for her once more, but she sidestepped his advance. With one last effort to disarm him, she aimed her knee and made contact with his groin. He groaned in agony and doubled over. She dug her nails deep into his hand, praying he’d drop the weapon.
A blinding flash of light and a loud explosion jolted Elise. Hawk jerked and groaned in pain. Acrid smoke stung her eyes and nostrils.
“Hawk?” Frozen with shock, Elise stared into his horrified and slowly dimming eyes. The scrap of black silk he wore concealed the rest of his expression.
The firearm slipped from his fingers and thumped on the floor. A bone-chilling gurgle escaped his throat and gapping mouth. He reached for her, his fingers clawing weakly at her upper arms. Another frigid breeze whipped through the small room. The candle flickered out the same moment his body went slack.
In the darkness, he fell toward her. She braced against the wall, her body absorbing his heavy weight as he slid down the front of her and fell to his knees.
“Please Lord, no….” She covered his nose and mouth, searching for breath, but found none. Hawk…dead? The prospect was unimaginable.
As gently as she could, she lowered him to the floor. Shouting drew her to the window. More redcoats ran toward the tavern. The shot had warned them to investigate without waiting for his signal. Her cloak swirled around her as she raced to the dead spy and knelt beside him.
Frantic, Elise reached for his jacket. Moonlight exposed the growing stain of blood on the floor. She’d never killed anyone. Bile and remorse clogged her throat. Her hand trembled as it slipped inside the garment, searching for anything to aid her. Hawk had planned to deliver her to the English. He must have some kind of identification to offer them.
His warm blood oozed through her fingers. A sheen of tears blinded her before she blinked them away. The bullet had blown a hole in his belly. For him to die so quickly, it must have also found a vital organ to rupture. She shuddered, fighting nausea when lack of time denied her the luxury of turning squeamish.
Heavy footsteps pounded on the stairs leading from the tavern below. Outside her door, she heard multiple voices, a rattle of keys, the shuffle of boots on wood.
