Free A Rip in Time (Out of Time #7) by Monique Martin Page A

both. “You won’t.”
    She heard the man holding her swallow hard and then his grip loosened. Elizabeth slipped out of it and turned back to see Simon holding a knife to her captor’s throat.
    Carefully, Simon eased around so he was in front of the man and shifted the knife to his off-hand.  
    “Are you all right?” he asked her, but kept his eyes on the man.
    Elizabeth let out a shaky breath. “I’m fine.”
    “Then it’s your lucky day,” Simon said to the thug.
    The man narrowed his eyes in confusion. Simon lunged forward and punched him hard in the gut and then delivered a jaw-breaking uppercut as the man doubled over. Simon grabbed him by the collar to keep him from falling and hit him once more. The man was unconscious before he hit the ground.
    Panting, Simon turned back to Elizabeth and Victor. He closed the gap between him and Elizabeth, and looked her over for injuries before turning to Victor.
    “How did you know?” he asked.
    Elizabeth knelt down and grabbed Simon’s watch from the leader’s pocket.
      Victor picked up the gun and handed it back to him and then nodded toward the far street. They started toward it leaving the pile of injured men behind in the muck.  
    “I passed those two up on Montague, looking for trouble,” Victor said quietly as he tugged down his scarf so that it now rested around his neck. “I was nearly there when I doubled back. I had a feeling you two would be trouble tonight.”
    And thank goodness for that, Elizabeth thought, ignoring the slight. “Thank you.”
    “Yes,” Simon said. Elizabeth heard the pain in his voice. He probably had broken ribs, but she could see from the look on his face he wasn’t going to relent now.
    Victor grunted in reply and took out his watch. “3:25.”
    He snapped it shut and the three of them hurried down the street toward Buck’s Row, hoping they weren’t too late.

Chapter Eight

    T HEY TURNED UP A little street called Whites Row and Elizabeth could see the street widening ahead into a V-shape with a wedge of tenement buildings dividing it in two. On the right was the narrow little Winthrop Street and on the left was Buck’s Row.
    They hurried along until Victor held up a hand to stop them and motioned for them to move into a side street to the left. With her heart in her throat, Elizabeth pressed her body up against one of the buildings and hid in the shadows. In the darkness next to her, Simon groaned softly, his breath shallow and labored.  
    Elizabeth was about to reach out a comforting hand when she heard footfalls echoing not too far away and froze.
    At the mouth of the side street she watched the faint glow of a lantern as it moved up and down with the natural gate of a man walking. Her heart beat a little faster. Whoever he was, he was getting closer.
    Victor held out his arm, waving it urgently back toward the building. The three of them melted back into a brick arched doorway. Elizabeth could just see the silhouette of the man as he reached the intersection—a police constable, his bulls-eye lantern casting a broad beam of light in the night. She pressed herself as far back into the cold bricks as she could and held her breath.  
    The beam of the PC’s lantern swept past within inches of their hiding place. Thankfully, he didn’t turn up their street and he didn’t linger. He kept walking up Buck’s Row.  
    The footsteps got farther and farther away. Finally, Victor, who was closest to the corner, inched forward toward the edge of the building. He peered out for a moment and then leaned back against the wall, tilting his head back and shaking it.  
    “Damn,” he said so softly she almost didn’t hear him.  
    Having to see for herself, Elizabeth edged forward and peered around the building. She could see the officer in the dim light as he veered to the left and Buck’s Row. Then he stopped, the beam of his light frozen in place for a moment, and then he ran across the street toward something, his