“What did she do to us?” War asked.
Aston stared at him like he was crazy. “Betrayed us.”
“She never betrayed me,” War said with a shake of his head. “Hell, she didn’t even betray you.”
“She never loved me,” Aston said. “I tried to make her love me and she didn’t.”
War shifted as much as he could as he digested that statement. Claire didn’t love Aston. She had declared as much to him. He wasn’t sure that Aston wouldn’t read that if he lied.
“Claire loves a piece of you even more than she loves herself. Your daughter.”
Aston flinched. “My daughter? I never wanted a daughter. When she said she was having a baby, I wanted a son to pass all this to when I was gone.”
War wrinkled his brow. He had seen men like this all his life. Men who had never known anything but the danger and violence of the streets of London, the slums of other cities. They couldn’t imagine a “better” life for their children, so they simply tried to ensure their offspring would inherit the mud they possessed.
“You and I grew up the same,” War said, trying not to picture that life.
Aston shrugged. “Maybe. I’ve heard Jack had it tough, so I assume you did too.”
“Yes. But we were men. We had options, even in our world. You and Jack prove that—you both rose to the top of the heap.”
“Shit heap that it is,” Aston said, almost laughing.
“A girl has far less options,” War reminded him. “If your daughter stayed with you, she would have ended up, what? The moll of some lesser thug? A lightskirt?” Aston turned his face, but War couldn’t tell if he cared about that predicted future for Francesca or not.
“Claire is a poison,” Aston hissed.
“No,” War whispered. “She’s a tonic. And no matter how much you want to hate her, you let her go tonight. So perhaps you’re right that some part of you loved her.”
“And she always loved you,” Aston said, getting back to his feet. He tugged the cigar from between his lips and puffed smoke out in a perfect circle. “I saw that the moment she looked at you. I always knew there was a man she left behind, one she really wanted. I just didn’t know he wasn’t any better than I was. So tell me, Warrick Blackwood, do you love her?”
War swallowed. He wasn’t certain which answer would grant him more time. But judging from Aston’s expression, it probably didn’t matter. Time was not exactly at a premium for him anymore. So he decided to go with the truth. Someone had once written it would set a man free.
“I will always love Claire,” he admitted without a break to his voice or a tremor in his stare.
Aston’s face twisted in anger and jealousy once more. Any connection between the men broke in that moment. His obsession with Claire wouldn’t allow him to see reason, it seemed. Only revenge.
“That is a sad story,” Aston said, “since she left you here for me to torture. But don’t worry, you won’t suffer long. Always won’t last for you.”
War drew in a breath. “I never imagined it would, Aston. You want to hurt Claire too much.”
“I want to finish your brother,” Aston corrected. “If Claire suffers, that will simply be the icing on the cake.” He looked at the cigar in his hand and smiled. “Have you ever been burned, Mr. Blackwood.”
Memories flooded back again, but War refused to show them on his face. Refused to look at the smoldering end of the cigar in his captor’s hand.
“Yes,” he said simply.
“Good. Then you will know what to expect.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Claire pulled her horse up short a hundred yards from the fishery and threw herself down. She yanked the pistol from the holster on Regret’s saddle and moved toward her brothers, who were climbing down from their mounts as well.
“Aston had War upstairs,” she explained softly. “When I left less than an hour ago, he only had three additional men inside and one peripheral guard. I think our best course of action—”
She didn’t get to finish, for just as she spoke, another few horses came riding up. She lifted the pistol and leveled it on the rider, but when he jumped down and pushed the hood from his head, she saw it was Jack. She almost went limp in relief. Her brothers were all good shots, but Jack knew what it meant to kill. He wouldn’t flinch or suffer for doing it.
At least not much.
He marched toward her, despite the fact that every one of her three brothers had pulled their pistols on him. His men leveled theirs on the Woodleys, and suddenly it was a standoff.
“You lied to me,” Jack spat without preamble. “You told me you wouldn’t let him come to harm, but then you left my brother to be torn apart just to save your own skin.”
She shook her head. “That’s a bloody lie, Jack! I intended to sacrifice myself as trade for my daughter, not your brother. But Aston found out the connection between you and took War instead. If it hadn’t been for Francesca, I would have died rather than leave him.”
“I assume this is Mr. Blackwood,” Gabriel said, his finger twitching on his trigger.
Jack turned on her brothers, looking at the pistol muzzles with a sniff. “Captain Jack, thank you. And who the fuck are you?”
“My brothers,” Claire said. “And I assume these are a handful of your best men.”
Jack nodded. “Guns down, boys. These aren’t our prey.”
The men followed suit, and when Claire tossed a nod over her shoulder, so did her brothers, albeit warily. “Aston called you here?” she asked.
The lines of worry on Jack’s face were painfully clear even before he answered. “Yes. I knew I should have listened to my gut and followed you tonight. I should have known you’d drag him into some nonsense.”
She wanted to retort, but how could she? Jack was right. War’s current position was entirely her own fault. Desperation had driven her to doing foolish things. Now War could be dead.
“You know this is a trap, Jack,” she said.
“Of course it is. But I’m willing to be caught in it if I have any chance to save my brother.” He glanced over her shoulder at her family. “I assume you all understand that.”
“Very well,” Gabriel said as he extended a hand to Jack.
Jack stared at it, almost as if he didn’t know what to do. “I don’t think you want to lower yourself, sir.”
Gabriel lifted his brows. “I do nothing I don’t intend to do, Jack. I came here to help my sister, but if any of us can be of assistance in saving War, we will all do it.”
Jack slowly took Gabriel’s hand and the two men shook. Claire extended a breath of relief. Now that everyone was on the same page, they could plan.
“How many men did you bring?” she asked. “Just these?”
“No, I brought all of them,” Jack said. “These are my best. The rest are scattered ready to strike. Until War is safe, no one attacks.”
She nodded. “All right. Aston called you here, Jack, and he already vowed to have me shot on sight if I returned. So what is your plan? Whatever you say, we’ll agree.”
A hint of Jack’s devilish grin flashed. “My goodness, I’ve never had so many lords at my command before. It may just go to my head.” He looked over her brothers and then his gaze moved back to her. “My brother has put himself at a great risk because of you, Claire. Let’s see if you’re worth it.”
Lifting his head was getting increasingly hard, but War did so nonetheless, blinking past the blood that had started to pour into his eyes from the fresh gash on his forehead. Everything hurt. Of course, that was the point of physical torture.
He closed his eyes and thought of Claire. Claire with her hair down around her shoulders. Claire smiling up at him from the pillows, her arms open to him. Claire leaning in and whispering, “I love you.”
The pain receded a fraction at those thoughts, even as Aston struck him again, throwing War’s head back as the fist crushed into his cheek.
There was a knock on the door, and Aston straightened. He picked up a pistol from the corner of his desk and pointed it at the door. “What?”
The door opened. “He’s here,” came a rough voice.
War forced his eyes open and watched as Jack was pushed through the door into his hell. Jack appeared calm, unmoved as he peered down the barrel of Aston’s weapon.
War lolled his head back and shouted, “No! No, Jack! Why did you come?”
His brother’s gaze flitted to him and the cool demeanor wavered a fraction. War knew he looked terrible. His sleeves were rolled up and he’d been burned along both arms. Aston had been beating him at a much more frenetic pace since their “chat”. As a result, both his eyes were swollen to where he could hardly see. He tasted blood and he was fairly certain at least one of his shoulders had been dislocated.
“You know why,” Jack said softly.
War bent his head. Yes, he knew why. Jack had come because he loved War. That brotherly bond, stretched thin through the years, had never fully broken. Jack had always been his protector from the time they were little boys—he wouldn’t turn down a chance to play that role once more.
Even if it killed him.
His brother looked away and lifted his chin. “I’m here now, Aston,” Jack said, opening his arms as if demonstrating his willingness to prove whatever Aston required. “Let War go.”
Aston grinned. “Jack, Captain Jack. In the flesh.”
“Indeed, I am,” Jack said. His face said friendly, his tone was something else. War had heard that voice before. It was the one just before Jack unleashed a beast.
“You know, I saw you once, a very long time ago, just as you were starting to gain notoriety. You haven’t aged well.”
Jack shrugged. “Our business is a rough one, Aston. You know that. And you’ve done well for yourself.”
“Not well enough,” Aston said. “You’re still standing.”
Jack leaned back on the edge of the desk, the perfect imagine of nonchalance. But War saw the way his brother’s fingers clenched in and out of a fist on the desk top. Jack was a coiled snake pretending to dance to a tune. That didn’t mean he had no teeth or venom to spew.
“So what do you want?” Jack asked. “I think I already know, but the theatre of this showdown seems to please you, so I wouldn’t dream of stealing it from you.”
“I’ve spent years undermining your operation,” Aston said. “Ruining your shipments, intercepting your intelligence, even stealing some of your workers. And yet you did not fall.”
“Like a rock I am, I know,” Jack drawled.
His attitude had clearly begun to grate on Aston, for the other man’s voice grew darker and angrier. “But if you’re gone, then nothing will stand between me and running the underground.”
“So you want me to stand down?” Jack said. “Hand over my kingdom?”
“Would you give it to me?” Aston asked, tilting his head.
For a moment, Jack hesitated and War thought he would refuse. But then his brother shrugged. “Let War go and I don’t see why not.”
Aston blinked. “You would surrender your position, your power, for him?”
Jack nodded. “Of course.”
Aston pinched his lips. “It seems he is the one way to get to you both then. The one way to hurt you both.” He turned to face War and lifted the pistol to point it at War’s head. “You see, Jack, there is a reason why they say, ‘the king is dead, long live the king’. There is only one way to inherit.”
War stared at the weapon and knew what was about to happen. Jack began to move toward Aston as Aston’s finger nudged the trigger. But before the pin dropped and the smell of gunpowder filled the air, the door behind them was kicked open and Claire threw herself through.
She dove in front of War with a scream so primal it hardly sounded human. The chair he was on rocked just as the gun fired. He felt the searing pain of the bullet entering his shoulder, down low. Dangerously low. He glanced up to see Claire still standing before him. She had been hit as well, the bullet tearing across the top of her arm.
Jack hit Aston in that moment, sending him backward across the room, and Claire began to untie War.
“Hold on, love,” she said, her fingers swift and efficient even though her face was pale. “Look at me. Look at me, War.”
“I’m looking,” he said, but the room was starting to fade now. His shoulder hurt. His head hurt. Everything hurt. He blinked at her. The light behind her outlined her like she was wearing a halo. His angel, just as he always had been. “Claire,” he whispered.
She nodded, her eyes still on the knots she was untying. “Yes?”
“I love you,” he said. “I always loved you.”
Then he shut his eyes to rest, and the last thing he heard was Claire screaming his name.
Claire lifted War’s head, shouting his name as his eyes lolled shut. He was bleeding profusely from the gunshot wound, but also from so many other wounds she could hardly count them.
Things were happening around her. She could hear them. Grunts as Jack and Aston grappled and finally the sounds of her brothers and Jack’s men entering the room. Gabriel rushed to her side.
“You’re hit,” he said.
She glanced at her arm. It had started stinging when Aston fired, but she hadn’t even looked to see that she had a flesh wound. “It’s nothing. Look at him.”
Gabriel did so, and his paleness, his frown, made it clear War’s injuries were just as bad as she imagined. He pressed both hands on War’s shoulder wound. “We have to get him out of here. We have to get him to Juliet now. She can help.”
Claire looked back to find that Jack had turned to them since one of his men had taken control of a wriggling, red-faced Aston. Jack’s cheeks were pale as he took in the unconscious vision of his brother.
“Jack!” she shouted.
He moved forward. “Get him out. There’s a carriage on the west side of the building. Take that and get him to safety.”
“What about you?” Evan asked.
“I’ll be fine. My men and I will stay and clean up.”
Gabriel motioned to Edward, who approached. The two men lifted War and her brothers all started for the door, with Claire close behind them.
“Claire!” Aston screamed.
She turned to face him, hating him now more than she had ever hated anyone. Except, perhaps, herself.
“It was you and me,” he cried out. “Never forget that it started out as you and me! You can’t erase that, you can’t pretend that wasn’t true.”
She shook her head. “You and me, Jon? Oh no, you’re mistaken. You see, it was never you. It was always him. You were a poor substitute.”
She pivoted to follow her brothers out the door, but from the corner of her eye, she caught Aston’s movement. In a quick motion, he flipped the man who held him over his shoulder. Then he grabbed for the gun of the same man and lifted it, leveling it on her.
“If I can’t have you, he won’t!”
But his gun never fired. Jack pivoted and shot his own weapon, dropping Aston to the ground with a hole placed perfectly between his eyes. Claire stared, first at the man who had done so much to her and then at Jack.
“Go,” he said softly. “Just go.”
She nodded and raced after her brothers and War, praying there would be enough time to save the man she loved more than her own life.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Claire paced the room, never moving her stare from the door that led to the adjacent room. That was where Juliet, Gabriel and her mother were all working on War. She spun and faced Evan and Edward, flinching at the blood splattered on them. War’s blood. The same blood that stained her own trousers and shirtwaist.
“Why wouldn’t they let me help?” she asked, stalking away as swiftly as she
had moved toward them. “I want to help.”
Josie had been sitting on a couch across the room and she got up now, crossing to Claire. Her oldest and best friend slipped her arm around her and squeezed. “You’re too close to him, Claire. You couldn’t help but be emotional in this moment, and that might do more harm than good.”
“It seems that was always true of my emotions,” Claire choked out, leaning on Josie and allowing her friend to comfort her. God, it felt good. She’d forgotten what the love of her family was like.
The door to the hallway opened and Audrey came in with Francesca in her arms. Even though the baby didn’t know her aunt, she had a smile on her chubby face that elicited the same from Claire. She couldn’t help it.
Audrey crossed to her, handing her a robe to cover her bloody clothing before she gave her the baby.
Claire cuddled her daughter close, breathing her in, reveling in her warmth and the fact that Francesca would never again be threatened by her father.
Not that Aston’s death gave her any other joy. She could still hear his last threat ringing in her ears, still see his empty, dead eyes after Jack shot him.
“Mama said that Francesca is why you stayed with Aston so long,” Audrey said, touching Claire’s cheek.
Claire reached out to rest a hand on her stomach, knowing that Audrey would soon truly understand her drive, her madness, when it came to Francesca. “Yes. And she is why I left him, too.”
Audrey nodded. “Well, she’s free now. And so are you.”
Claire let her gaze slide to the door to the room where Juliet continued to fight for War’s life. “No,” she whispered. “If War dies, I’ll be trapped in a prison forever.”
“You must believe he will live. It’s all you can do.” Audrey covered her hand. “I always knew you had a tendre for him.”
Claire shook her head. “You did?”
“Of course I did,” Audrey laughed. “A sister knows.”
Claire looked around the room at her family. Josie and Evan, Audrey and Jude, Edward and Mary and her mother’s new husband, Jed. None of them looked at her with censure, only concern. Love for them swelled. Love she had tried to tamp down since she left. It was impossible now.
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