“He stays right inside the doorway,” Kevin said.
Gabrielle nodded, and she and Riggs stepped into the devil’s lair.
It looked the same as it had fifteen years ago. Yes, she’d been in here before. The one time Cutthroat had actually caught her, before she’d learned the rules of the street. She’d managed to slither out of his grasp that time—another reason he’d been so intent on having her. No one escaped Cutthroat when he wanted you. At least no one who lived.
Kevin shut the door behind them, dousing the small entryway in murky gray shadows. Dust motes danced through the stale air. Most of the wallpaper had long since fallen off, though some hung in uneven chunks, faded reds and golds of a long-ago owner who attempted the appearance of a better life.
“I’ll need to pat you down.” Kevin eyed her bosom again with bright eyes and licked his lips. He stood so close she could see his rotting teeth and smell his fetid breath. “For weapons.”
“No.”
His brows went up and his gaze flew to hers. “No?”
“You will not touch me.”
He crossed his arms and smirked. “Then I ain’t lettin’ you in t’see him.”
She raised her brow. “I feel for you, Kevin. Truly I do. If Cutthroat learns that I was here, in his home, and he didn’t get to see me…” She let her words trail off and shrugged, giving him a pitying look. She’d used those fifteen years well, honing her skills to fine, sharp points, and she was prepared to use every one.
Kevin’s mouth opened, then closed, and he narrowed his eyes at her. “I ain’t supposed to let no one in unless I know they don’t have no weapon.”
She turned back to the door. “Very well. Good day, Kevin.” She managed to get the door open a few inches before Kevin’s hand appeared over her head to slam it closed. For a moment she stood facing the door and feeling Kevin’s body nearly pressed to her back. Shivers skittered up her spine, but she held them in check.
He removed his hand and stepped back. “Follow me.”
She looked at Riggs. “No one comes in or leaves while I’m here.”
Riggs nodded and Gabrielle followed Kevin up the rickety set of steps that had long since lost its banister. She made sure to put her feet in the same places Kevin had, not trusting him that the steps were sound.
The upper floor looked as if someone had made an effort to decorate. The walls appeared to have been painted recently, or at least more recently than the lower floor. There were no pictures on the walls, but the sconces had been lit, and it was brighter here than downstairs. Though they hadn’t encountered anyone, Gabrielle didn’t fool herself into thinking it was just her, Kevin, Riggs, and Cutthroat in the building.
Kevin stopped in front of a door and knocked, shooting her a nervous glance. He’d broken the rules, and if things went wrong, he would pay the price. She couldn’t care less.
“Enter.”
Hearing Cutthroat’s voice made her knees knock, but Gabrielle locked them as Kevin opened the door.
The room was bright, the sun streaming in through the clean windows. The walls were painted a cool blue, the wainscoting white. Pillars supported the ceiling here and there. Fake, no doubt, but in style. If she hadn’t just taken her life in her hands by walking through Seven Dials, she would have guessed they were in the drawing room of some rich nob.
Cutthroat looked up from reading a newspaper and paused as his gaze landed on her. She was surprised at his appearance. He had gray around his temples, bags under his eyes. His skin was sagging and he’d lost weight. In her mind, he’d always been a monster—never aging, always scary. It was a shock to see that not only was he a normal-looking man, but he was a normal-looking old man. He still dressed in the height of fashion. His coat was bloodred, his waistcoat and breeches black, his cravat snowy white. But there was a frailness about him now, and it took her a moment to let her mind adjust to the change.
He put the paper down slowly with hands that at one time were meaty and dangerous but now were gnarled, covered in age spots, with veins popping up on top.
“Well. This is a surprise.” He stood, resting a shaking hand on the table, his gaze flickering to Kevin. “That will be all, Kevin.”
Kevin hesitated before stepping out and closing the door behind him. For the first time, Gabrielle and Cutthroat were alone in the same room, and the feeling was not a good one.
Along the far wall, in front of a cheery fire, was a group of expensively upholstered chairs. Along another wall, a bookcase full of leather-bound books. For a fleeting moment Gabrielle wondered if Cutthroat had read the books or bought them simply for show.
Cutthroat waved to an empty chair at the table. “Please, have a seat.”
“I prefer to stand, thank you.”
His face tightened, but he nodded. “I must say, I never expected to see you willingly enter my home. I’m at a bit of a loss here.”
Satisfied that she’d put him on the defensive, she nodded.
“To what do I owe the honor of this visit, Gabrielle? Or should I call you Lady Marciano?”
“Lady Marciano will be fine. I need information.”
A slow smile spread across his face, and there was the monster she’d feared for so many years. He’d been lurking under a polite veneer and the signs of aging, but he was still there.
He rocked back on his heels. “Information does not come free around here.” He eyed her up and down, not as Kevin had done, with sick lust, but as a commodity he could bargain with.
“I don’t pay for information.”
He laughed. “You have grown some backbone, haven’t you, my little rabbit?”
Little rabbit? Ah, because she had run from him, apparently.
“Among a few other things.” She sauntered into the room, closer to him. He watched her warily, his body taut. He didn’t know what to expect from her, and that pleased her greatly.
“Your choice of attire does not become you. If you had stayed with me, you would have been richly clothed.”
A small smile touched her lips. “Who says I am not normally richly clothed? I am a contessa. A rich widow. Not the waif you chased on the streets.”
“You were never a waif. You had the world in the palm of your hand, Lady Marciano.”
“I have the world in the palm of my hand now, and I did not have to go through you to get it.” She watched his face tighten in anger. “Does that bother you?” she asked. “That I escaped and made something of myself?”
“You’re still a whore. I’ve heard the stories.”
She tilted her head in agreement. “But on my terms.”
“Yet unprotected.”
“Is that what you think?”
He made a show of looking around the room. “I see no protector here. You’ve come alone. Has the well of rich protectors dried up? Is that why you are here? To ask for my forgiveness so we may do business together?”
His words enraged her, but she kept the slight smile on her face and mockery in her eyes.
“I can help you, Gabrielle. I can secure you a rich protector. Better than the ones you’ve been with.”
“I am no man’s mistress. I am master of my own fate.”
“No woman is master of her own fate.”
There was a bit of truth to that, especially where she was concerned. She was by no means master of her own fate, for the crown directed her every move.
“Don’t you want to know what I’ve been doing all these years?” she asked.
“I already know.” But there was doubt in his eyes as he took in her clothing. He was wondering, questioning. This was far better revenge than just killing him; she was enjoying herself immensely. But she needed to keep focused. She needed to find Sebastian.
“I’ve spent my time away from Seven Dials wisely.” She threw him a slant-eyed look. “I’ve learned quite a few things that would make your bollocks shrivel in terror.”
He scoffed, but without force. His gaze moved to the closed door behind her. She cou
ld see that normally he was well protected and rarely conducted business without a bodyguard. She’d caught him unprepared. Good.
She moved around the dining table, forcing him to turn to keep her in his sights. There were weapons secured around the room, she had no doubt. Her mission was to separate him from the weapons.
“I took money for you, then you disappeared and made me look a fool.” He was working up to anger, but she wasn’t concerned. For the first time she felt in control when it came to Cutthroat. She had the upper hand, and he was beginning to realize that.
“I disappeared because I was taken off the street. Thrown over a stranger’s shoulder and tossed into a carriage.”
His eyes widened in true surprise. She leaned close. He smelled of musky cologne and the eggs and bacon he’d been eating.
“I became a weapon. A very good weapon.” Her dagger slipped into her palm from the sheath secured to her arm.
Cutthroat looked down on it wide-eyed, and he swallowed. “Kevin was not supposed to let you in with that.”
“Kevin had no choice.”
He realized that she had effectively cornered him and he was defenseless. An old man against a trained killer. He seemed to sag a little, fear creeping into his eyes. It had been frightfully simple to overtake him. He’d become accustomed to people fearing him, and because of that he’d become complacent. His mistake.
She pressed the point of her very sharp dagger against the flesh of his belly. He stilled.
“I’ve killed a lot of men in my life,” she said softly. “I know how to kill in so many different ways, it would amaze you.”
He licked his suddenly bloodless lips.
“I need to know where I might find Grant McFadden.”
Cutthroat blinked. “I have no idea who he is.”
“Come now, Cutthroat. I don’t like it when people lie to me.”
It was as if she’d entered an alternate level of consciousness. She was saying these words, and yet she wasn’t. She’d never threatened anyone in this way. Yes, she’d killed men, but always at the order of the crown, never on her own. Could she kill Cutthroat? She wasn’t sure, and she didn’t like what had overtaken her.
“You know everything that happens in this city. You collect information like a lady collects hats. Where is he?” She pressed her dagger into his belly with a bit more force, and he winced. A glance down confirmed that she’d drawn blood. Not enough to cause serious damage. Yet.
“I don’t know where he is. I heard tell he stays in different locations. He moves around frequently.”
“Not good enough.”
He flinched. “All I know is that he has a ship named Aileen.”
She moved her knife, easily slicing off a button from his waistcoat. It dropped to the ground with a plink and rolled away, the only sound in the room besides Cutthroat’s labored breaths.
“Where is this ship?” Damnation, if McFadden had sailed away with Sebastian, she would have the devil of a time finding him. She needed Lockwood. The pirate would know where to find a ship that didn’t want to be found.
“I swear to you, I do not know. McFadden’s business is of no use to me here.”
She popped another button and it clinked to the ground. Cutthroat drew a deep breath, sucking in his stomach to avoid the tip of her knife. “You cannot kill me,” he said, but it was almost a question rather than a statement.
“Can’t I?”
“People will know. Kevin will know.”
“I do not fear Kevin.” She leaned closer so that their lips were almost touching. The move was meant to intimidate, and it worked well: Cutthroat blanched. “My dream has always been to kill you. Did you know that?”
He paused before shaking his head.
Gabrielle drew back and looked him over. “You are old, Cutthroat. Your time here is almost over. Someone younger and wiser and stronger will come along and unseat you soon.”
Anger flashed in his eyes, but behind it was an acknowledgment of the truth.
“I have decided to let you live.”
He frowned.
“I have a feeling you can be useful to me someday.” She took another step back and another. She would not turn her back on him quite yet. “What does it feel like, knowing that you’re now working for me, when for so many years you wanted me to work for you?”
She smiled as he sagged against the wall, drawing deep breaths and placing a hand to his heart. No. He would not last long here in the jungle of Seven Dials. The weak and infirm never did.
Chapter 19
“He could be in any number of inlets along the Thames,” Lockwood said after listening to Gabrielle explain the situation. He didn’t ask how she’d come by her information, and neither did she volunteer to tell him.
“We may be too late,” she said, voicing the fear that had been gnawing at her since she left Seven Dials. “McFadden may have already left London.”
“I don’t think so,” Phin said. They were seated at a back table at The Coxswain. She had received a few odd looks when she’d walked in, but none since she’d sat down with Lockwood. People steered clear of their table, so they were free to converse, albeit softly. “I think he’s still here,” Phin added. “What purpose does he have in taking Claybrook?”
Gabrielle had no idea how much Sebastian had told Lockwood of their mission or why they were looking for McFadden. But she remembered the night in the carriage when Lockwood had joined them in such a spectacularly dramatic way. The two men had seemed close, closer than an informant and agent would. She remembered that Sebastian had said Lockwood was a friend of the family. Sebastian had seemed to trust him, and Gabrielle trusted Sebastian. “McFadden must have known we were searching for him. He didn’t want to be found.”
“So he takes Claybrook? It makes no sense. Why not just kill him?”
A cold shiver raced up Gabrielle’s spine. Lockwood had just touched on her biggest fear. What if Sebastian were already dead? She knew she could not think like that, for it would interfere with her search, but it was difficult not to think that way. Why would McFadden kidnap and keep Sebastian alive? There was no good reason she could think of.
“My crew is out searching the waters,” Lockwood said. “We have a few hours left before nightfall. Hopefully we will find the Aileen before then.”
Frustration ate at Gabrielle. She didn’t want to sit in some disgusting dockside inn and wait for someone else to find Sebastian. It was her job to find him. She was his partner. And yet she had to be patient, had to rely on people who were far better at searching the waters than she would be.
—
The constant sway of the ship was nauseating Sebastian. He faded in and out of consciousness to the point where he had no idea how long he had been here. No one came to check on him. No food arrived. No drink. Not even someone to beat him occasionally.
He was in so much pain that it robbed him of thought. He knew McFadden was waiting for Gabrielle to appear, and Sebastian could only pray that she would not. But in his heart, he knew she would. They were partners, and she would think it her duty to save him. Hell and damnation, but he wished she would just stay away. He could not stand the thought of her walking into this trap and dying because of some misguided notion that she needed to save him. If he happened to survive this he didn’t want the guilt of that on his soul for the rest of eternity.
But he could lie to himself no longer. It wasn’t the guilt of her death that would haunt him. It was the thought of living the rest of his life without her. Once again she had wormed her way into his heart until she was all he thought about, dreamed about, wanted, and cared for.
He didn’t want her hurt—worse, he didn’t want her risking her life to save him when he didn’t deserve to be saved. He’d allowed himself to be kidnapped. He’d allowed her to become vulnerable, and more important he’d hurt her so many times that he didn’t deserve her at all.
Despite all of that, he wanted her. He wanted her by his side forever. He didn�
��t care about her pedigree. Damn that. There were women with the bluest blood who were not half the woman Gabrielle was.
Besides, to the aristocracy, she was a contessa—Italian nobility. If that wasn’t enough, then damn them all to hell. He couldn’t care less.
All of this was a moot point because Gabrielle was going to walk onto this ship and be taken hostage and they were both going to die.
He closed his eyes and winced at the broken rib that prodded his inner organs. This was one of the worst beatings he’d ever endured. His hands and feet were numb and his right eye was swollen shut. Even if she realized this was a trap and came prepared, he couldn’t help her.
—
Gabrielle pulled herself up the rope ladder attached to the side of the Aileen. Below her, Phin stood in the small boat and watched silently. She threw one leg over the railing, then hoisted herself onto the deck, landing on her feet and looking around. Lanterns were lit at various intervals. The rigging clanged softly with each sway of the ship. It was peaceful here, but she couldn’t allow the peace to lull her. Somewhere on this ship was Sebastian, and she was determined to find him. God help her, but she had better not be too late.
She prowled the deck. Phin had given her a crash course on the Aileen. A sloop, built for maneuverability in the shallow waters and small enough to hide in the myriad inlets off England’s coast. Having been on few ships, Gabrielle wasn’t well enough versed to know the difference. All she knew was that it was small enough for her to find Sebastian quickly.
But finding him wasn’t her first mission, as much as she wanted it to be. Atwater had caught up to her, only to remind her that her mission was to capture McFadden. In her mind she had railed against it, fought the impulse to defy Atwater and go rogue. For Sebastian she would do it. For Sebastian she would do anything.
However, the mission came first. It was a motto that had been drilled into her since she was a twelve-year-old urchin, and it was not something she could go against all these years later. But Gabrielle had figured out a compromise. She would save Sebastian and capture McFadden at the same time.
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