He saw silhouettes. They could be Gordon’s men or other cutpurses. He moved through the fog and the gloom.
The warehouse was a picture of decay, with sagging timber. It was already leaning toward the Thames, as if it wanted to end everything. Two men flanked the front door, their eyes bloodshot with drink.
Daniel’s eyes narrowed. He knew what he needed to do. Like a wraith emerging from the fog, his fist connected with the first man’s jaw. The second man lunged at him with a rustedknife. However, Daniel quickly ducked and caught his wrist. He twisted it as hard as he could until he heard a pop. He even kneed the man in the belly.
With the guards down, he was able to kick the heavy door open without anyone stopping him.
Inside, the unpleasant smell of damp wood and gunpowder hung heavy.
“Gordon!” he shouted.
He was not only looking for Moses Gordon, but also issuing a challenge.
To his surprise, a man came out of the shadows. He was lean and muscular, and his face looked as hard as granite.
“You were looking for me?” he asked. “It is about time. I had wondered when you would stop hiring criminals to look for me.”
Three more of his thugs emerged from behind the crates. They carried blades and clubs.
A less desperate man would have fled. A less proud man would have asked for help.
But Daniel was neither.
The mission could have killed him. He fought Gordon’s lackeys with feral desperation. One club managed to hit his side. His vision blurred, but he would not give up. He used his rage to counter a strike, reaching for a thug’s throat. He kneed the man in the crotch while he was at it.
The thug fell unconscious on the floor.
Daniel took the opportunity to grab the man’s club. Then, he lunged at the rest of the thugs. The fight almost drained all of his energy, but at least he had a weapon to swing at his enemies.
Soon, the thugs were all either unconscious or groaning on the floor. He pulled out a pistol and aimed it at Gordon’s heart.
“The fire in the house in Suffolk,” he said. “You killed my cousin Kenneth and my uncle. What did they do to you?”
Gordon smirked.
“So it seems that you fancy yourself the hero of this story, Your Grace,” he drawled, leaning against a crate. He grinned, showing yellowed teeth. “You like seeing yourself as the hero coming here to slay the monster.”
“Gordon, give me a good reason not to pull the trigger,” Daniel grunted.
“I have a reason,” Gordon said calmly, but then he lifted his hands when Daniel stepped closer. The pistol was now inchesfrom the middle of his forehead. “I am hired to do dirty work. I know you want to know who hired me.”
“Who?” Daniel demanded, his finger hovering over the trigger. “Who paid you, Gordon? Who hated my cousin and uncle so much?”
“You really want to know?” Gordon asked, his face contorted. “I don’t trust you and your ilk, know this. A lord paid me to kill your relatives. I have been working with and for the Earl of Marsleigh for years. Joshua Coulson still owes me some.”
“You’re lying,” Daniel said slowly. “The Earl is a sanctimonious prig. He cannot be a murderer.”
“Cannot be?” Gordon scoffed. “Perhaps not the man who starts the fire, but the man who wants it done. I am telling you not because I am fond of you, Stonewynn, but because the Earl had swindled me out of a shipment of brandy and French lace. His problem was your cousin Kenneth.”
“Kenneth?” Daniel echoed, his heart in his throat.
“Your cousin was sniffing around,” Gordon explained. “He sensed Marsleigh’s involvement in the London underground. He was getting too close to the truth. I can now see how similar you are in that regard. The idea of getting caught terrified Joshua. He believed that your cousin would ruin everything and that he would lose his title and reputation.”
Daniel’s hand shook. The man was scum, but he was telling the truth. His pistol wavered, and for a brief moment, he had the satisfaction of seeing a flicker of fear in Gordon’s eyes.
“I want him to pay,” Gordon rasped.
Daniel lowered the pistol, but it didn’t mean that he was no longer on high alert. His mind was racing through various possibilities. Dread coiled in his gut.
