Sylvie Sommerfield - Noah's Woman by Unknown Read Free Book Online

and the few coins she had. Then they made their way to Charity's room, which they found empty. Charity's first act was one of anger as she grasped the gold gown that still lay on the floor and tore it to shreds.
    Then she, too, gathered a bundle of clothes and the two girls escaped the house through the back door.
    In Charles's study he sat, one hand holding his offended groin as it throbbed with pain, while he tossed down several swigs of whiskey. Grim and angry determination filled him. He would have Charity Gilbert if he had to beat her into submission. Tonight was hers, but there was always tomorrow. There were

    many ways to tame a girl of Charity's spirit, and he would not hesitate to use whatever means he needed.
    The streets were not the refuge Beth and Charity had envisioned. Because they knew Charles might be looking for them, they sought out the more unsavory parts of the city. Fear kept them moving, and as the days passed their inexperience began to show. Within a week their coins had dwindled to nearly nothing, even though they tried to be frugal.
    Another week found them penniless. They sold what clothes they had carried along, but this money, too, was soon gone.
    Unable to pay for shelter, they found themselves growing more frightened, dirtier, and hungrier every day.
    They protected each other as best they could, one staying awake while the other made use of a darkened doorway to find a little sleep.
    They ran from every bobby they saw, sure that Charles had set them on their trail. Often they fought off or ran from the advances of unsavory men looking for an accommodating whore, or others they knew would sell them into a kind of slavery they could imagine only in their nightmares.
    The horror their lives had become steadily grew worse. Both prayed, both often cried themselves to exhausted sleep, and both tried to hold at bay the inevitable fear that, to survive, they must succumb and earn money in the most degrading way.
    The choice was taken from their hands one evening, an evening of misty fog and slight rain.

    They had both been pursued by a man known only as Shylock. He had promised them they could make money under his expert guidance. He would find the men; all they would have to do was to give them an hour or so of entertainment.
    They were cornered in an alleyway this night and Shylock was using the kind of persuasion of which he was a master.
    ''There's nothing to it," he said, grinning amiably. "I've never seen a girl die of it yet." This lie was one neither Charity nor Beth recognized. "You girls are both hungry, and you sure as hell need some clothes and a place to sleep. How would you like a hot bath and a good meal? I can provide both. You're both a lot prettier than most of the girls that work this area. With my help you could make more money than I bet either of you have ever seen. Come on . . . trust me, it's easy."
    Charity gulped heavily. She was so hungry and so tired that she had even begun to think of crawling back to Charles and begging to be forgiven.
    Beth, too, was a bit dazed from hunger and deprivation, and Shylock knew this well. Had he not recruited his girls from just such innocents as this a million times before? He took a step closer, and then all three were shocked by the coldness of the voice that came out of the mist.
    "Shylock, you bastard, I thought I told you never to come near the Round again."
    Both Charity and Beth were stunned to see the effect this voice had on Shylock, who seemed to shrink as he turned to face it. What shocked Charity and

    Beth was the slim, beautiful woman who stepped from the mist. She was accompanied by two men of monstrous proportions, and in her hand a slender, long-bladed knife glistened in the half-light.
    "Amiee," Shylock gasped. "I wasn't doin' nuthin. I was just passing through, and these two pretty things looked like they needed help."
    "No woman alive needs your kind of help, Shylock." Her voice was like the blade she held, cold and