Secret [British Villains]

❥ chapter III

Once again, the brute attempted to grab your arm, but this time, unfortunately, he anticipated your evasive manoeuvre. His hand seized your elbow before you were able to elude him. A sly grin stretched across his face just as your blood ran cold. "That's what you get for refusing to cooperate with us, woman," he sneered.

You gave up your struggle against the man's vice-like grip the moment you realized that there was no escape this way. Blood was rushing through your ears and almost drowned out all the other noises. Instead, you drew back your other arm for a blow, but the man's companion intervened and grabbed your arm, stopping you from slamming the heel of your palm against the other man's nose and wiping that stupid smug grin off his face.

The shorter man peered at you over the top of his glasses. "Miss, you will make yourself liable to prosecution if you attack one of us," he warned you.

"There is no need to become violent towards an innocent civilian," the all too familiar voice of the young man from the café sounded. "Especially against a young lady. You should be ashamed of yourselves, gentlemen. I am the one you are looking for, am I not? This lady has nothing to do with this, and you should not take your anger and frustration out on her."

With flaring nostrils much like a bull, the giant of a man let go of you immediately and whipped around to face the man with the briefcase who was now back in your field of view. "Didn't think you'd still be here." He spat onto the dirty pavement, causing both his partner and you to turn up your noses in disgust. "I thought you had already taken French leave, you bugger."

"I can't just leave a young lady in the hands of someone like you, now can I?" the young man replied, looking unfazed by his opponent's words. "What kind of gentleman would I be if I dared to do something like that?"

The spectacled man turned his full attention to him as well, lips pursed and a frown etched into his features. "You are not a gentleman. If anything, you are a serious offender."

Now, both men had their backs turned to you. They seemed to have completely forgotten about you and the sheet of paper you were still holding, crumpled up in your hand, and which they had so desperately wanted to get just a few moments ago.

You let out a breath you didn't know you had been holding. Without more ado, you crept back to the opening of the alleyway where you had come from, casting one last glance at the man in the navy-blue suit who was currently taunting his opponents with a challenging wave of his wand, motioning them closer. Then, you left the alley and walked back to the café at a fast pace as if you were escaping the mess you had accidentally gotten into, neither wanting to hear nor see what was about to happen between the two opposing parties.

All of this wouldn't have happened to you if you hadn't picked up that damned piece of paper out of pure courtesy. But now you were in this nasty, tricky affair (whatever it was, but it seemed to be extremely important), and you had the feeling that you wouldn't get out of it so easily as to just flee from the scene and lock yourself in your flat and keep a low profile. No, something was telling you that this wouldn't do it. There were bigger forces at work here that would track you down with ease.

You sat down at your table near the entrance to the café again and put the crumpled sheet of paper next to your empty cup of coffee. With a sigh of relief, you noticed that your messenger bag hadn't been stolen in the meantime. You had carelessly left it behind, but who would have thought that you would be gone for more than a minute?

You beckoned a waiter over to your table and ordered another cup of coffee, doing your best to not let your nervousness and uneasiness show. A small, forced smile tugged the corners of your lips upwards.

Sinking into the padded chair, you took a shaky breath and scraped a hand through your hair. Somehow you would get out of this. You didn't know how, but you would do it. Somehow, someday. You weren't even that deeply involved in this affair, right? This was most likely nothing more than a scratch on the surface. You would keep your mouth shut about what you had seen and heard and forget everything. You wouldn't make the foolish mistake of trying to figure out the things you had experienced. You would love to grow old and not die at a young age because of your own imprudence.

You got pulled out of your thoughts with a start when the waiter suddenly emerged out of thin air right next to you and placed the cup of steaming-hot coffee on your table. Sending a smile your way, he took the old cup you had emptied earlier with him and walked over to another table with a customer that demanded his attention.

You clutched the comfortably warm cup and gazed vacantly into the light liquid inside, but you looked up as soon as you heard firm steps approaching you. Your eyes widened slightly at the sight of the young man.

He was still carrying the briefcase with the stolen documents—presuming that the two men had spoken the truth—which meant that he had got rid his opponents. The two of them had seemed to be more than willing to use violence, and considering the lack of creases and dirt on the young man's suit, he didn't seem to have gotten involved in a close combat with the men.

You rather didn't finish that train of thought. The hairs on the back of your neck stood up with an unpleasant prickle.