“I’m a bit rough around the edges,” he said. “I hope you can forgive anything improper I might ’ave said.”
Georgie managed a weak smile. There was something very wrong about this man, with the fancy clothes that somehow looked cheap, the formal speech with the cockney accent, the brilliant smile with the dead eyes. She wanted to get away from him.
“Now this is nice and comfortable, ain’t it? Tell me about my old friend Rafferty—it’s been a dog’s age since I seen him.”
“Rafferty?” she repeated with a deliberately vague expression. She’d seen her mother avoid confrontation and direct questions with a silly little laugh, and she managed a good approximation of it. “Who’s Rafferty?”
Stiles’s smile didn’t waver. “Now, miss, you don’t need to be shy with old Billy Stiles. I know what’s what. Sure and Rafferty’s keeping clear of the police—who can blame him? We’ve got a bit of business to settle. Not the way Rafferty would like it settled, but then he should know better than to underestimate the likes of Billy Stiles.”
“What do you mean?” she said, her eyes wide and gullible. She was out of her depth, but she knew one thing. This man was Rafferty’s enemy, and as such, he was getting no information from her.
Stiles’s broad grin tightened for a moment, but before he could ask another question, Martina was back, dropping gracefully into her chair.
“Miss Manning has been telling me all about Rafferty,” Stiles said smoothly. “He never struck me as a man for domestic duty.”
Martina looked at her with horrified reproach, and Georgie blurted out a denial. “I didn’t tell him a thing!”
“Ah, but there’s something to tell, ain’t there?” Stiles said, that toothy smile still in place. “I don’t mean ’im any harm—he’s an old mate of mine too, and I thought I’d look in on ’im. Settle things right and proper.”
“We need to go,” Martina said, starting to rise, but Stiles’s hand latched onto her wrist, pulling her back, and her mouth was white with pain.
“You’re going to stay right here, little Martina, until I’m satisfied.” For a moment, the smile dropped, and Georgie realized what a truly ugly man he was. The smile returned as he looked at her, and she felt a cold dread in the pit of her stomach.
She straightened her back. “Let go of Martina,” she said calmly. “And I’ll tell you all about him.”
“Miss Georgie, don’t!”
But Stiles had dropped her wrist, turning to Georgie with his past affability. “A man gets to a certain age,” he said, “when he wants to track down his old mates. Me and Rafferty go way back—he’d tell you that himself. Now why don’t you tell me where he is so I can go and renew my acquaintance?”
“Right behind you, Stiles.”
Georgie breathed a sigh of relief. She hadn’t seen him approach, she’d been so mesmerized by Stiles, like a rabbit with a snake.
The moment passed in an instant. Stiles rose, all bluff friendliness, clasping Rafferty’s hand, but it looked anything but friendly. Martina had risen, and Georgie tried to follow suit, but a moment later, Rafferty’s strong hand came down on her shoulder, keeping her in place.
“Well, ain’t this cozy!” Stiles said in his hearty voice. “Why don’t we all sit down and share a cup of tea, and you can tell me how you’ve been doing on our little venture?”
Rafferty didn’t move. “Well enough. These things take time.”
“I’m afraid I’m not a patient man, Sunny Jim. We ’ave a bit of a misunderstanding about certain things, and I wouldn’t want you to have an unfair advantage. You’re a bloodthirsty bastard, all right, and I happen to value my neck.”
“Do you?” Rafferty’s voice was silky smooth. And deadly. There was no missing the strain of violence in his voice, and for the first time in a long time, Georgie remembered where she had found him, who he said he was. A thief, a criminal, a bad man. She could believe it. And it didn’t change her feelings one whit.
Stiles met the subdued violence in Rafferty’s voice without a blink. “I wouldn’t want to think you were holding out on me. You’ve had more than enough time, seems to me. And Billy Stiles is not the man to cheat. You wouldn’t want anything to happen to your old friend Martin.”
Rafferty’s flint-like expression didn’t change. “Keep your hands off.”
But Stiles merely smiled as he turned his beady eyes on Georgie. “Then again, there are always other choices. Guess you like the ladies well-bred too. You’re taking too much time. And I wonder if this little ladybird has anything to do with it.”
Chapter Fourteen
Rafferty didn’t bother to glance at Georgie, but with his hand still resting on her shoulder, holding her in place, he felt her initial jerk. So her knight in shining armor was in league with this horrible man? What did that make Rafferty? It was time she knew. She needed a dose of reality about him. He removed his hand, but she made no effort to rise.
“I’m not a man to threaten, Billy,” he said in a low, seemingly affable voice. “Not unless you’re ready for the consequences.”
Stiles grinned his toothy grin. His large white teeth were a matter of great pride to him, and he took almost obsessive care of them. Rafferty wanted to slam them down his throat. “Oh, no, you wouldn’t want to upset the little lady.”
“The little lady is in the family of my employer. She doesn’t mean anything to me. But if I gut you, I might get blood on her dress.” He didn’t have to be touching Georgie to sense her start at his brutal words.
