Jackson gripped his wrist in a merciless hold, locking eyes with Child. “I deal with you directly or not at all.”
Child shook his head, his narrow nose sniffing the air. “What is to say there isn’t a poisonous powder in that little gift that could kill me on the spot?”
“There are never any guarantees in this life. But to put your mind at ease.” Jackson lifted the box and flipped open the lid, inhaled deeply, and then snapped it shut and returned it to the table. “Satisfied?”
“Sir, I—” The henchman clamped his mouth tight at Child’s evil eye.
Child then collected the offering and opened the small container, his tiny eyes widening as he stared at the premium opium sample. His gaze flicked to Jackson. “Impressive, but why me?”
Jackson shrugged. “I am only recently returned from India. I need connections. Word has it you are the best.”
His reptilian eyes didn’t so much as blink at the compliment. “How much?”
“I have a shipment of one hundred pounds arriving tomorrow night. As an introductory offer, I would be willing to sell it to you for ten on the pound, which—as you know—is a significant discount for such a prime specimen.”
Child tossed back his head, nearly losing his hat. Hoarse laughter ripped out of him. “Are you trying to get me addicted to you and your supply, Mr. Black?”
Jackson spread his hands. “You know how the game is played.” Not that he did, but it was a line he’d heard Kit use successfully.
All humour fled from Child’s face as he pocketed the sample. “Why should I trust you? As you say, you have no connections here, no one to refer your services.”
“Because you have no other choice. I have looked into your dealings and learned quite a bit about you. Let us say that if you do not avail yourself of my generous offer”—he waved away an approaching server and leaned closer to Child—“it could be dangerous for you.”
Child’s thin nostrils flared. “You dare threaten me?”
The henchman stepped closer, fingers wrapped around a knife shushing from its sheath.
Jackson held his position. To show weakness now was a death sentence. “What I dare, Mr. Child, is to offer you a chance to make a lot of money, more than you’ll ever make with a small-time fizzer like Bellow. Bring your payment in gold coin, packed in brief bags.”
“Mmm.” Child grunted, his hand going to his pocket. After a final perusal of the opium chunk, he stashed it away once more and leaned back in his seat. “That can be arranged. But if this turns out to be a trap, I will not hesitate to strike you where it hurts.”
“You may strike, but I assure you, the cobra’s bite is deadly.” Jackson stood, ignoring the muscle scowling at him. “I shall send word where the shipment will arrive.”
Child shook his head. “I expect a full-service delivery. Two a.m., East End Depot, Whitechapel.”
Bah! The man had to know it would take more than two hours to unload a shipment and haul it covertly to such an address. Not that he had an actual shipment. Was that what Child was trying to fish out of him?
“Impossible, as you know.” Jackson stared holes into the little reptile. “Even with my best men, I could not possibly have it to you until three at the earliest.”
“Three, then.” Child’s eyes were dark pinpoints. “Be there with the goods, and I will be there with the money.”
Jackson gave him a sharp nod and strode away without a backwards glance. Mission accomplished. The snare was set.
But it remained to be seen who would be caught…Child or him?
Chapter Twenty-Six
Holding the dagger’s blade up to the lamp on the dining room table, Kit narrowed her eyes. Metal gleamed, the edge deadly sharp. If she ran the pad of her finger along it, blood would drip before she felt a thing. Perfect.
“Are you about done?” Jackson grumbled behind her. “I could use some help.”
“Ba-ba!” Bella tugged at Kit’s hem where she sat busily playing with old sharpening stones on the rug.
“Mama,” Kit corrected, then handed over the stone she’d been using to Bella’s outstretched hand before turning to Jackson, her stomach feeling like she had eaten the stone rather than given it to Bella. When she first heard about Jackson’s meeting, she immediately had asked to join—anything to see the man taken down who’d nearly gotten her girl killed. But after her blood cooled, she’d had to admit that perhaps she ought to take Martha’s advice and let the men do the chasing this time. Still… “I’d be a great pair of eyes on the back side of the warehouse—”
“That’s not the help I need.” He waggled a leather waistcoat in the air. “I was talking about this.”
An odd mixture of anger and relief collided inside her. Jackson didn’t want her. She should stay with Bella. Easy enough to understand but hard to accept. Frustrated, she added the knife to the roll pouch already containing a pair of brass knuckles, a bowie, a stiletto, and a throwing blade. Personally, she’d have stuck with the push knife, but in this situation, it probably paid to be overarmed rather than under.
