“Yes, it could. And if it does, you’re going to have a hole in your head. But, hey, look on the bright side. There’s a good chance the bullet will miss your brain, because it’s so damn tiny. Hands up! Lace your fingers together at the back of your head.Now.”
“Damnation.” But he obeyed.
The other men circling them stared at her with wide eyes. But they didn’t advance. Yet.
“Fokking hell!”
Kendra looked up at the reason for her visit here: Bear, aka Guy Ackerman, aka London’s most infamous crime lord. She’d forgotten how enormous he was: at least six-five, with a massive chest and bulging muscles. He had the kind of face only a mother could love, and even that was debatable, given how soulless his mud-brown eyes were at times.
Those eyes were now staring at her in amazement.
“What are ye doin’?” he demanded.
“Getting to know the locals. What the fuck does it look like I’m doing?” she shot back, glaring at him.
“Ye’re a bloodthirsty wench,” Bear muttered.
Kendra ignored the insult, instead focusing back on her captive. “I’m going to let you go, but the next time you decide to befriendlyto a woman, make sure she wants your attention. Do you understand?” She pressed the gun’s muzzle into his forehead, hard enough to leave an indentation, when his lips started to curl in a snarl. “I’ll ask you again. Do. You. Understand?”
“Aye, aye!” he gulped. “I understand!”
She kept the gun aimed at him but took a step back, then another. His eyes burned with fury, hatred, and humiliation. She braced herself for retaliation, but the man blanched when Bear growled, “Get off with ye, ye stupid scum!”
Kendra wasn’t surprised when the man took off running. The crowd around them melted away just as quickly.
Bear planted his hands on his hips and declared, “Ye’re as mad as a fokking hatter.” Then his lips trembled and he began to laugh, a big, booming sound that drew the attention of passers-by, who just as quickly averted their eyes as soon as they realized who was laughing.
She didn’t blame them. She’d had an odd relationship with Bear ever since he’d kidnapped and tried to kill her and Alec the year before. The way she saw it, she’d threatened to blow the criminal’s balls off, so they were even. Unfortunately, Alec didn’t see it the same way.
“I’m glad you think this is funny.” Kendra pulled a coin from her purse, pressed it into the kid’s palm, then turned back to Bear. “I need to talk to you.”
“Aye, so I was told.” He folded his arms in front of his immense chest. “This is about the gentry mort that offed herself at Bowden’s?”
Kendra couldn’t hide her surprise. “How’d you know?”
He snorted. “’Cause it sounds like somethin’ ye’d get tangled up in. Why d’ye care that she brained herself?”
“She didn’t kill herself. She was murdered.”
“Wot’s it ter do with me if me betters kill each other off?”
“How do you know the killer is . . . one of your betters?”
“Who else would kill some uppity gentry mort but one of their own?”
“Have you heard about anyone being contracted to kill her?”
Bear cocked an eyebrow at her. “Now, why should I tell ye?”
“Aside from being a good citizen? Queen Charlotte asked me to personally look into the matter.”
Kendra had introduced the Queen’s name to emphasize the importance of the investigation, but was astonished to see real fear flash in Bear’s eyes.
He lifted his hand, as if to ward off something evil. “I don’t know nothin’.”
“You haven’t heard, or you don’t want to say?”
“Both,” he retorted, then hesitated. “I ain’t heard nothin’,” he admitted. “And I would have, if someone was hired ter stop a noblewoman’s claret. Word gets around in the stews. Particularly word like that.”
