Ruined

by Jess Michaels

  “War!” She drew back. “I didn’t mean I would seduce the man. He’s your brother and I’m—” She cut herself off suddenly, leaving War to only wonder how she would finish that sentence if she didn’t censor herself. She blushed and said, “I simply meant, should I make myself prettier?”

  “How could you?” War whispered. “I don’t think it’s possible.”

  She blushed again, this time darker. “All right, charm. What else?”

  “He is jovial and intelligent,” War continued, focusing on Jack instead of this woman he loved and couldn’t have for more than a few days at most. “But he has an edge, Claire. You mustn’t ever forget that he is dangerous. To come into as much power as he has in the underground, he has to be.”

  She nodded. “I don’t intend to ever again be taken in by charming or witty or intelligent criminals.”

  “Good.”

  She examined his face in the dim carriage. He wondered what she saw. What he revealed in this charged moment.

  “Did you love him?” she asked.

  He turned away, swallowing past the heavy lump that had formed in his throat. “Yes,” he admitted. “With all my heart.”

  “War,” she whispered, reaching across the expanse between them to touch his hand. “I’m so sorry. I know this is difficult for you and I—”

  The carriage stopped and War withdrew his hand, straightening his shoulders and preparing himself for what was about to come.

  “Be careful,” he said as he moved to the door. “And let me talk.”

  Claire walked at War’s side as they were led by a man through twisting alleyways and down a set of dark steps.

  “Do you know him?” she whispered, motioning toward the darkly clothed man who had met them at their carriage. He hadn’t given them a name.

  War shook his head. “No. He wasn’t with my brother before. But it’s been ten years. I’m sure most of his people are new to me.”

  She nodded, trying to tamp down the fear that stirred in her. They were being taken into a literal underground beneath one of the worst neighborhoods in London. If this was a trap, even War’s strength would likely not be able to save them.

  If she died here, Francesca would be left to Jonathon Aston without her mother to protect her. Claire swallowed hard as a wave of anxiety washed over her and forced herself to concentrate on the moment at hand.

  Their guide stopped at a doorway in a dank hall and opened it. “He’ll be in in a moment.”

  He motioned them inside and she followed War through the door that was so low he had to duck. But once they were in the room, they caught their breath together. Despite the dank outside, the room within was beautiful. It was a parlor as fine as any of those in a titleholder’s home. The furniture was done in rich red brocades, and expensive artwork hung on the walls, including a very risqué painting above the fire that depicted a handsome devil overseeing a scene of sexual debauchery.

  War leaned in to look at the same painting and rolled his eyes. “He commissioned that one.”

  “You were there?” she asked, still mesmerized by the orgy scene.

  “No. The devil is him,” he said, motioning to the figure on the throne above the deviants. “That’s Jack.”

  She looked closer, now as drawn in by the devil as his erotic servants. The character had dark hair and eyes much like War’s. Even in the painting, she could see the resemblance, though she would argue War had gotten the most of the looks between them. Jack was certainly a well-heeled man and the painter had captured a twinkle of mischief in his eyes.

  “Admiring the view?”

  They both spun to find that a man had stepped through a hidden door behind a panel across the room. Claire stared, for in person the man looked even more like War than he had in the painting. He was shorter by half a foot and clean-shaven rather than bearded, but the fact that these two men were brothers was entirely evident.

  “It’s a fair likeness,” the intruder drawled. “Or so I’ve been told. Hello, War.”

  Claire let her gaze flit to War, watching his reaction. He was pale as he stood silent, staring at the man before them. He had carefully made his expression neutral, but she could see the pain in his eyes.

  “Aren’t you going to say anything?” their host pressed. He kept a smile on his face, but Claire thought there was pain in him too.

  “Hello, Jack,” War said, his voice cracking slightly.

  “Welcome home, brother,” Jack said, moving toward him at last. Claire stared as the men embraced, awkwardly, briefly. It was War who drew away first.

  “I’m not home, Jack,” he said, mirroring her own words just the day before. It reminded her how similar their situations were. “I made it clear what I wanted to see you about.”

  “Help for a friend is what you said,” Jack said, turning his gaze on Claire. The twinkle in his eyes was very much like the artist’s devil. Claire found herself wanting to smile back at it, even though she didn’t trust this man an inch.

  “I am the friend,” she said, holding out her hand. “Claire.”

  “Just a friend,” Jack drawled, lifting her hand to his lips. “That is a pity.”

  “Enough.” War reached out and drew Claire’s hand away from his brother. He slid his fingers through hers and squeezed gently. It was a claim in response to his brother, she knew that. But she didn’t pull away from it.

  “Hmmm. Seems like more than a friend after all.” Jack laughed and motioned them toward the chairs before the fire. “Come, sit. I have not seen you in a lifetime, War. Let’s catch up.”

  Claire flinched. This moment was another echo of the one she had shared with her own family just a few hours before. Only for War, this wasn’t a way to reconnect with a brother he loved. From his face, she could see this was torture.

  And yet he still took the seat Jack indicated. Because of her. Because he wanted to help her.

  “Tell me more about your life with the fops, what are their names?” Jack asked. “Woodfurt? Woodcock?

  War tensed and did not supply the family name, nor indicate that Claire was one of them. “I’m not here to talk about them.”

  Jack lifted his brows at his brother’s tone. “Why not? I still think you should have robbed them all those years ago.” When War didn’t respond, he continued, “Though if what I hear is true, you are becoming respectable, indeed. And you even have some money with this horse breeding business. What is your angle, brother?”

  Claire bit her tongue. Not only did she want to confront Jack about his telling War to harm her family, but she didn’t like his tone when he mentioned War’s business. There was a faint mocking there. As if he had no respect for his brother’s attempt to better himself.

  “No angle. I simply found I liked horses,” War said, his teeth obviously clenched.

  “Not surprising considering your talent in stealing them.” Jack yawned into his hand, but Claire believed it was part of an act. “Anyway, to each his own. If you’d stayed with me you might have made five of those fortunes you’re now collecting through breeding.”

  “If I’d stayed with you, I might be dead,” War said, getting up and pacing away.

  Jack flinched and watched his brother for a moment, a faraway look in his eyes. Claire squeezed her hands together in her lap, trying very hard to follow War’s instruction that she allow him to guide this conversation. But he wasn’t. War didn’t say anything for a full minute and finally the tension inside of her was too much.

  “Mr. Blackwood,” she began.

  “Jack,” he corrected with a half-hearted smile. “Please.”

  “Jack,” she began again. “I want to talk to you. I need your help.”

  “Claire,” War said, facing them at last.

  She shook her head. “I’m sorry, War. I know this is beastly for you and I hate it. But I can’t dance around this, I can’t ease into it. Enough time has been wasted already.”

  Jack stood now
. His smile was gone, his eyes were hard. There was no more charming devil in him anymore. Just a dark criminal who could turn off his empathy if he needed to.

  “I don’t know what War has told you, but damsels in distress are not my forte, Claire. No matter how fetching they may be.”

  She clenched her fists. “I’m not a damsel and I don’t consider this a fairytale. Certainly you are not my knight. But I have something you want, Jack. And I want to trade for something you know.”

  “Really?” he said, some of his charm back as his gaze flitted over her slowly. “You have something I want? Well, that is interesting. What could I possibly want from you, I wonder?”

  She ignored the implications in his tone and his look. “How would you feel if you could free yourself of a thorn in your side? How could you feel if I could help you get rid of Jonathon Aston?”

  Chapter Nineteen

  For a brief moment after Claire spoke, War saw Jack’s eyes flicker with interest and a hint of pleasure. But he quickly wiped those reactions away and stared at her in blank disinterest.

  “Who?”

  Claire’s green eyes narrowed and she tossed her head. Her strength matched Jack’s perfectly. She gave no quarter. War had never thought her so beautiful.

  “Bullshit,” she snapped, and the curse made Jack jump, as if surprised. “You know exactly who I’m talking about. Aston has been coming after you and what you have for years now.”

  Jack’s smug smile fell and he shrugged one shoulder. “Let us say you are right and this person you named is an irritant to me. What would a delectable little peach like you know about it?”

  She folded her arms. “First, I know for a fact that Jonathon Aston has been more than a mere irritant. He has placed spies within your ranks, some of whom you still don’t know about, or didn’t just a month ago. He has disrupted your shipments and overtaken parts of your network. Now, those things alone might well be considered minor, but he’s also done some other things that aren’t.”

  “Such as?” Jack was leaning forward now, fully engaged with Claire. War smiled despite himself. She was good, he could give her that much. She knew how to make him rise to the bait.

  Claire cast a quick glance at War before she said, “Aston has killed or turned three of your top lieutenants in the past six months. And he nearly killed you about six weeks ago.”

  “Claire?” War whispered.

  She ignored him, and War’s heart sank as he stared at her. She hadn’t told him that. She had never said that his brother was in danger from her former lover. She hadn’t trusted him enough. Or perhaps she just thought he would ruin the leverage that statement would give to her.

  “And I know more than that too,” she said, keeping her stare on Jack now.

  Jack was quiet a long moment. Then he tilted his head. “And how do you know all this?”

  “I-I was Aston’s woman,” she admitted. A dark blush filled her cheeks immediately and War clenched his fists. How he hated to hear that admission from her lips.

  Jack backed up a few steps, as if he had just realized that Claire was explosive. He glared at War. “You brought her here?”

  War nodded. “Why wouldn’t I?”

  His brother’s eyes went wide. “She was Aston’s woman. Probably still is. This is a trap.”

  “It isn’t a trap,” Claire and War said at the same time.

  “God, she’s got you wrapped around her little finger,” Jack said with another glare for War. “I can only imagine what talents she displayed to get your on her side.”

  “I have been on her side for the last ten years,” War barked, determined to defend Claire and himself. “Claire belongs to the family I went to work for after I left you, Jack. I’ve known her a decade and I know for a fact that she isn’t here to betray you. If you’d shut the hell up and let her explain, you might find she could even help you.”

  Jack rolled his eyes. “I don’t get involved in domestic squabbles, my lady. If you’re angry at Aston because he fucked your sister or didn’t provide your ladyship with the right tea, then cut off his finger. Or his cock. But don’t drag me into it because that’s how people get killed.”

  “I’m not going after him for that,” Claire snapped. “Sit down.”

  She pointed to the chair Jack had vacated, and Jack arched a brow. “You have fight.”

  “I must,” she growled. “I’m not fighting for me. I’m fighting for my daughter.”

  The teasing, the taunting, vanished from Jack’s face in an instant. “Your daughter,” he repeated, and his gaze slid to War. For a moment their eyes met and War knew his brother was remembering the horrible times growing up just as he was.

  “I ran away with Aston and had a child,” Claire said, her voice strained but strong. “It’s a long story, but what matters is that he took her about a month ago. I came to you to get her back. But I’m not asking for charity. I have information that could help you, but if you say no then it will be mine to keep.”

  War arched a brow, impressed by how calm she remained when he knew how desperate she was.

  “So what do you say, Jack?”

  Claire’s hands shook, but she squeezed them together so that it wouldn’t be obvious to Jack. Jack who was now just staring at her. All the flirtation and playfulness of earlier was gone and the serious man was there. The dangerous man. And yet she didn’t get the sense from Jack that she’d always gotten from Aston. It seemed, beneath it all, that Jack might give a damn about others.

  She hoped so. For her sake. But also for War’s.

  “It seems you have an interesting proposition, my lady.”

  “Claire, please. Go back to Claire,” she breathed.

  Jack inclined his head. “Claire. So let us talk about it in more depth.”

  “Yes,” Claire burst out, relief flooding her chest. “Where should I begin? I—”

  He held up a hand to silence her and looked at War. “I meant let us discuss it alone.”

  War moved forward. “No. Absolutely not.”

  “You don’t trust me, do you, brother?” Jack asked, his tone soft but heavy.

  Claire ignored Jack and instead moved to War. She could see all his arguments on his face, but she silenced them by cupping his cheek gently.

  “I can do this, War,” she said. “You know I’ve handled far, far worse. And you’ll be just outside the door.”

  War didn’t seem convinced, but when she smoothed her fingers across his cheek, shivering as his whiskers abraded the sensitive flesh of her palm, his eyes fluttered shut.

  “As you wish,” he murmured. But he didn’t turn and leave the room. Instead he moved on his brother, coming all the way up to him until they were chest to chest and his superior height was an unspoken threat. “Don’t do anything to make me sorry I trusted you,” he growled.

  Jack lifted his brows. “My goal in life is not to betray you, War. Remember that as you stand outside my door.”

  War held his brother’s stare for a moment, then turned on his heel and exited the room in three long steps, slamming the door behind himself so his displeasure with this turn of events would be obvious to them both.

  Claire sighed heavily and returned her attention to Jack. She found him staring at him, this time with a renewed interest that was anything but sexual. He looked…intrigued.

  “You have cast quite the spell over my not-so-little brother.”

  Claire shook her head. “Not true.”

  “Ten years apart may have made me many things, Claire. Blind is not one of them. What are your intentions when it comes to Warrick?”

  Claire shifted. This was not the conversation she’d intended to have with this man. “That is between War and me.”

  “He doesn’t deserve to be used,” Jack said, his stare still uncomfortably focused on her.

  She folded her arms. “Are we here to negotiate or gossip, Jack?”

  A flutter of a smile turned up his
lips and he motioned her back to the chair she had vacated moments before. “You know, I like you,” he said. “Would you care for a drink?”

  “It’s best I keep a clear head,” she replied. “You’re not a man to turn one’s back on.”

  “That may be true,” he drawled. “So tell me. This child of yours—Aston’s?”

  She nodded once, daring him to question her further. He didn’t, but looked at her slowly. “If you are part of War’s fop family, that means you came from title and wealth. What made you stoop so low?”

  “I wasn’t who I thought I was,” she admitted, though she refused to go further. “And I wanted to feel real again. To find me again. I turned to your brother first, but…”

  Jack lifted his brows. “War refused you?”

  “Too honorable to ruin such a girl,” Claire said, bitterness lacing her words. “So I ruined myself without him. And I hated him for it for a long time.”

  “Hated War?”

  She blinked. She hadn’t ever admitted that out loud before. Certainly she’d never told War of her feelings. She didn’t know why she’d told Jack, in reality. But it was too late to go back now.

  “If he had wanted me, if he had done as I asked, I never would have run.” She sighed. “But over time I came to realize my mistakes were my own. War was trying to save me, not destroy me. So when I needed help, I knew he was the only one I could turn to.”

  “And he brought you to me,” Jack supplied.

  “I knew about you,” she admitted. “Aston is obsessed with you.”

  Jack’s eyes narrowed with a hatred that burned deep. It was frightening even if he seemed to control it well enough. “Of course he is.”

  “I thought you might be able to help me find him. Even give me some information about what he’s been doing.”

  “So you can get your child back,” Jack said.

  She slid to the edge of her chair so she could get closer to him. “You know what it’s like growing up with such people. You and War know what Francesca will be raised in. I can’t allow that. I just can’t.”