Chapter 3

Remington's adrenaline kicked in as soon as the team of horses whinnied then galloped away, pulling the rickety wagon in which Laura was trapped behind them, at a steady clip.

His stomach roiled and his heart dropped to his toes as he watched that same wagon break free from the horses, then flip over, depositing her somewhere beneath the wreckage.

The wheels hadn't even finished their final rotations before he reached her.

"Laura?" he called to her as he hit his knees and frantically dug through the straw, grasping her hand when he uncovered it. "Laura, come on…" He grunted as he pulled her from beneath the wagon. "Oh, dear God… Oh, come on. Get up, get up, get up." She swayed on her feet, clearly dazed. His fear, and relief, was palpable in his voice when he spoke again. "Are you okay?" He brushed the straw off her hair and shoulders. Only then did she notice the gathered crowd, her muddled mind recalling they couldn't blow their covers.

"That'll be all, Ruggles," she told him, words slurred, as she patted him on the arm, dismissing him.

He could only step back and watch as the Worthington's tended to her, as she insisted she needed no aid. Had anyone so much as glanced at him, that they had more than a passing acquaintance would have been revealed, as his helplessness, his frustration that he could not assure himself she was unharmed, was painted across his face.

Those feelings, however, shortly turned to fury when it was revealed the runaway horses and flipped cart had not been an accident, but an attempt to eliminate Laura.

"Laura?" Remington called softly, rapping lightly on her door with glove-covered knuckles. The door swung open, a hand grasping his forearm and pulling him inside, before the door shut swiftly behind him.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, rubbing at her damp and curling hair with a towel. "Find something out?" He shrugged a shoulder and watched as her robe covered visage disappeared into the bathroom.

"Perhaps. I suspect Vincenzo is behind your little 'accident'," he answered, his eyes following her as she reappeared, dragging a comb through her hair. This time, he stepped in her path, and palmed her cheek in his hands. "Are you alright?" he inquired in a tight voice.

"I'm fine," she dragged out the second word in emphasis. "Nothing more than a few bruises and a good bump on the head." At that admission, a hand left her cheek, to skim through her hair. She winced when his fingers came in contact with the contusion at the back of her head.

"Turn around," he directed, "Let me see."

"There's no need," she insisted. His eyes flashed his irritation, but he let her have her way about things. With a sharp nod of his head, he stepped away, and strode towards the door.

"Where are you going?" she asked his back. He paused with his hand on the doorknob.

"I believe I'll go have a word with our conniving client."

"Mr. Steele?" she called, when his hand began to turn the knob. He looked back over his shoulder at her, giving the opening she was hoping for. He turned to face her as she crossed the room to him. Resting a hand on each of his shoulders, she pressed up on tiptoe and touched her lips to his, allowed them to linger. When she pulled away, her mouth hovered mere millimeters from his, her brown eyes meeting his blue.

"Stay safe." His face softened, and she saw in his eyes her peace offering had been accepted. He leaned in for another kiss, before he stepped back and stroked the backs of a pair of fingers against her cheek.

"Yourself, as well, Miss Holt."

With those final words, he slipped out the door.

Laura opened the door to her room, then stopped short. The room had clearly been ransacked, but when she saw Remington lying prone, unconscious, in front of the armoire, she rushed through the door – anyone awaiting, be damned – and knelt beside him, Mildred on her heels. She grimaced openly, as she gave his shoulder a shake, trying to rouse him. It had never been easy for her to see him hurt in the line of duty, a certain amount of guilt accompanying those injuries each time. But now, on the heels of two other blows to his head in such close succession? She heaved an audible sigh as his eyelids fluttered then opened.

"You okay, Boss?" Mildred asked. Bleary eyes fought to focus on the pair of women, as Laura cupped the back of his neck and helped him to his feet. He pressed a hand to the back of his head, moaning.

"Mildred, why don't you get a towel and some ice?" she suggested, while easing him towards the bed. "Sit down. Sit down," she urged softly. He sat down, then palpated the lump on the back of his head and grimaced. "Did you see who it was?"

"No, but that's not unusual."

"What a mess," Mildred commented on the state of the room, as she returned with the ice and pressed it against the back of his head. Unconsciously, Laura reached out and lay a tender hand to the side of his head, letting it linger for a scant second.

"Anything missing?" he asked. Withdrawing her hand, she looked around the room.

"I think… One of the camera bags."

The trio discussed the case, Laura and Remington revealing new information they'd uncovered, then all three had claimed a task that needed to be seen to.

"I think I'll visit a photographer I know," Laura announced, after Mildred volunteered to search the household computer for Hastings' book.

"Okay. Well, I think I'm going to pay a visit to a certain wall safe I know," he offered, handing the ice to Mildred. Watching him preparing to leave the room, Laura made an impulsive decision. His gaze snapped from Mildred to her, when she stepped to him and lay a soft hand on his shoulder.

"Take care, Ruggles," she told him, her chin tipping upwards to look at him, as her hand skimmed down his chest to finger the fabric of his lapels. "With any luck, I'll see to it that you're fired tomorrow," she promised, lightly, then patted his shoulder with her hand several times. Throughout the contact, he'd fidgeted, tucking a hand into his pocket, pulling it out, running the other hand through his hair, unaccustomed to such an open display of concern from her in front of company. Nevertheless, he bent slightly towards her, before his eyes darted to Mildred and he recalled her presence. With a short moan, the too quick movement of his head ending with a sharp pain, he left the room.