Unfortunately, all he’d done was make another enemy, one that could threaten to compromise this mission even further. He’d also proven to Triana that he really was the evil villain she believed him to be because he couldn’t keep his damned hands to himself.
Great job, Gabriel.
“Chiltern.” Gabriel paused in the middle of the street as a familiar voice called out to him. He turned to see Travell crossing the street and scrubbed a hand down his face.Just what I don’t need—to lookthismanin the face after Ijustdefiled his sister.
“Curdiff.” He nodded stiffly, preparing to venture on his way.
“Did I just see you leaving my townhouse?”
The viscount’s query made him pause.Damn.“Yes.”
“I see.” Travell frowned slightly, but he said no more on the subject. Instead, he asked, “Shall I still expect you and Lady Worthington at Vauxhall tonight?”
Gabriel’s tone was clipped as he replied, “Do you doubt it?”
Travell’s knowing gaze was steady. “What’s going on with you lately, Gabriel?”
“Nothing,” he snapped. “If you’ll excuse me, I have somewhere I need to be.”
***
The hired hackney pulled to a stop in front of the rundown tavern in the heart of the Seven Dials district, as a cloaked form carefully alighted. At such an early hour, most thieves and cutthroats that darkened these alleyways had expunged their lust for drink and women the evening before and were sleeping it off, while the ladies of the night walked around in a daze from the hardships of their cold, unforgiving life.
The figure paused just inside the threshold of the seedy establishment known as Lucifer’s Fork and pushed back her hood. Watchful eyes adjusted to the dim interior while surreptitiously scanning the sparse activity. When they lit on two thugs tucked back in a corner, that gaze immediately narrowed.
The two men were bent together in a hushed murmur, so they didn't pay attention to the stealth approach of the newcomer until she was standing right next to their table. She cleared her throat reproachfully. “Tsk, tsk. It’s a bit early in the day for spirits, isn’t it, Spalling?”
At the sound of the familiar voice, a half empty mug of ale hit the wooden table with a thud. TheClaraBelle’scaptain looked up and frowned. Sticking a thumb toward his barrel chest, he growled, “Whot I do o’ me own time is my business!”
Her lips curved upward. “Not when you and your time are an investment to me.”
Spalling turned back to his drink with a dry, humorless chuckle. “Aye. Don’t I know it?”
She pointedly ignored his sarcasm. “If I recall correctly, I do pay you quite well to ensure your full cooperation.” He chose not to reply to this, but instead, took another hearty swig. “And I would like to remind you of your loyalties...” She paused for effect. “...for you can easily be expunged from my employ.” The captain’s tankard of ale abruptly halted in mid-air and she could see his Adam’s apple bob up and down. The action caused her smile to broaden. “I see we understand each other.”
She slid her gaze to his companion, an unknown man wearing a black eye patch. “Who are you?” she demanded. “And why wasn’t I told about him?”
“’E’s my new first mate,” the captain interceded sourly. “An’ I hired ’im this mornin’.”
The man in question touched a finger to his brow, the single black eye that was revealed looking right at her. “Name’s One-Eye.”
She felt a ripple of unease at that direct stare. While she’d been around her share of disreputable criminals, there was something… different about this one. He was intimidating, which meant he could also be dangerous, a marked contradiction to Spalling, who was rather easy to bend to her will. She knew this man would not be so easy to maneuver. He would be worth watching closely.
She straightened her glove and addressed the captain. “I assume you have done your job properly?” Every man had to be checked out thoroughly if they wanted to set foot on board theClara Belle. Unfortunately, for the captain’s former first mate, Griffin, he’d dared to cross words with her. Within the hour, he’d found himself at the bottom of Davy Jones’ Locker.
Spalling gave a curt nod. “Aye, m’lady. Everythin’ checked out.”
“Good.” She spun on her heel, but not before tossing back over her shoulder, “Oh, and captain? I would watch how much bitter you drink so early in the day. You never know when you might find yourself suffering from more than just a simple headache.”
***
Ridge Claymoore watched as Captain Spalling paled as he slammed his mug down with enough force that it sent the remaining contents sloshing over the side, dampening his beefy hand. As the sound of the woman’s laughter faded, he scowled. “Damn bitch,” he mumbled gruffly. “I wouldn’t put it past her to poison me.”
“I take it she’s the one callin’ the shots?”
“Aye. That’d be her, all right. Satan’s wench. ’Course we don’t say that t’ ’er face if’n we don’t want t’ take a dirt nap.” With a growl, the captain pushed his mug away. “But I get damned tired o’ her bossin’. I can’t even ’ave a blasted drink without ’er interferin’!”
“Why don’t ye just find a new ship, then?” Ridge picked up a coin from the table and began to thread it through his tanned, muscular fingers.
