“Just a matchbox.”
After a brief inspection, the guard returned the objects and opened the door.
Inside the warehouse, Sweeney stood waiting flanked by another pair of armed men—including Victor, who smirked at Rhys. Rhys ignored the blond bastard, his gut clenching as he saw no sign of Glory. Scanning the room, he spied no exits save for the door that the guards were closing behind him. Cabinets in various stages of construction had been pushed up against the walls, their silhouettes ghostly in the flickering light of the wall sconces.
Where were they keeping Glory?
“You made it, Your Grace.” Sweeney’s smile was oily as he advanced toward them, dragging shadows in his wake. “But you failed to follow instructions, I see.”
“Kent is here to see that the exchange goes smoothly,” Rhys said.
“It will.” Sweeney’s gaze fixed on the leather satchel. “Once you give me the treasure.”
Rhys’s fist gripped the handles. “Show me my daughter first.”
Sweeney snapped his fingers.
One of the guards went to the far wall. He opened a cabinet, fumbling inside it. Suddenly, the section of the wall behind the cabinet separated from the rest. It rotated on a spinning platform, the cabinet turning out of view and on the other side was…Glory.
Rhys’s heart thundered as he saw that she was trussed to a chair, a gag over her mouth. Her plaits were disheveled, her eyes dark pools in her pale face. Something moved on her lap…Ferdinand. The light brown ferret hissed, jumping up and down.
“Don’t be afraid, poppet,” Rhys shouted. “I’m coming to get you.”
The wall continued rotating back to its original position, Glory disappearing from view.
“There, you see? Safe and sound.” Sweeney’s gaze narrowed. “Now hand over the treasure.”
With boiling rage, Rhys strode over. “You want this? Have at it.”
He tossed the bag to the ground. It landed with a loud thunk by Sweeney’s feet.
Crouching, the cutthroat opened the bag, rummaging through the protective layers of velvet. He let out a gasp as he dug through the contents with both hands, the look on his face one of pure, unadulterated greed. He took out an emerald the size of a pigeon’s egg, holding it up: even in the dimness, it flashed with green fire.
“Remarkable,” he chortled.
“You have your jewels,” Rhys said, his jaw clenched. “Now give me Glory.”
The cutthroat closed the bag and rose. “These jewels are fine indeed, and I want to live long enough to enjoy them. I don’t doubt you’ve got Tessa Kent’s men out there waiting to pounce. To ensure my safe journey, I believe I’ll take the girl.” He took out a pistol, waving it at Kent. “And you’ll come too.”
“That was not the deal,” Rhys grated out.
“The terms have changed, Your Grace.” Sweeney’s expression was cunning. “He who holds the pistol makes the rules. Count yourself lucky that I don’t put a hole through you before I leave.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Rhys noticed that while Sweeney was talking, Kent had been subtly fiddling with something in the pocket of his greatcoat. Knowing Kent—and recalling the other’s earlier comment about “insurance”—Rhys decided to buy him more time.
“Surely you are not afraid to commit murder?” he taunted.
“I am afraid of nothing, and certainly not of you,” Sweeney said with a sneer. “But why go to the trouble of committing murder when there isn’t a bloody thing a useless fop like you can do to stop me?”
“You’ve been ahead of me every step of the way, haven’t you?” Rhys egged him on.
“Everydamnedstep. Did you know my men tracked you down in Dorset? Oh, aye, they arrived just after you left, but it wasn’t a wasted errand. They heard some drunk bragging in the tavern that his sister had landed herself a duke, and they’d gone to London to find his inheritance: a treasure from a sunken ship, with a worth beyond measure.”
Bloody Jeremy.If Rhys lived through this night, he was definitely killing Maggie’s brother.
Seeing Kent furtively take out the matchbox, Rhys goaded Sweeney on. “If you knew I was in London, why didn’t you capture me immediately?”
“Because, you bloodydolt, I wanted the treasure.” Sweeney gave him a superior look. “I made sure to infiltrate your little band of guards from the start. Victor, here, was eavesdropping at every opportunity; what he heard confirmed what you were hunting for—and that you were close. All you needed was a little motivation.”
