“The fight’s not over!”
“Wot about my money?”
James abruptly stilled as snippets of various unrest met his ears. All at once, on that last statement, the crowd turned to him as one in a plethora of angry stares and cursing demands just as he saw the top of Big B’s shaved head slipping through the crowd.
Turning calmly to Captain Greeves, who was always at his side, James instructed, “See that these men are compensated for any losses.” And with that, he began to push his way through the furious mob until he finally reached the back of the dilapidated building. His rage was growing to rival that of the rabble behind him.
No one made a fool of Mr. James Larkin without paying the price.
He shoved open the door, barely hanging on its hinges as it was, and searched the area around the docks of Le Havre. He thought he glimpsed the smooth top of Big B’s head again some distance away before melted into the shadows of the night.
James narrowed his eyes as he contemplated his next move. Granted, this was an unexpected annoyance, but it was only a temporary deterrent, as plans for a new venture were already starting to brew.
Either way, he would make sure that those who defied him remembered his name.
He wasn’t known as the fer-de-lancefor no reason.
