“Is that what you did?” Zaria demanded before she could stop herself.
“Wouldn’t you like to know.”
Pritchardtsked, unclasping his hands. “Miss Ó Coileáin, if you can’t learn to adopt some patience, I’m going to request we aren’t partnered again. God help us.” He turned back to Zaria coolly. “Here’s the bottom line, Miss Mendoza. Your options are twofold: You can accept Vaughan’s offer and rise alongside him as he wrests command of the dark market.Orhe can tell the authorities and the Exhibition’s Royal Commission what he knows of your involvement in today’s events. Perhaps you and your friends can get a row of cells at Newgate Prison. Assuming you manage to escape execution, of course.”
Zaria felt the blood drain from her face. Threatening to turn her in was one thing, but the rest of them? Kane might escape arrest, slippery as he was, but what about Fletcher? If she and Jules ran, would Vaughan go after the two of them? Did shecare? That was something she would need to decide, and quickly. “What kind of information is Mister Vaughan looking for?”
“For now, collect as many names as you can of those associated with Alexander Ward. Not only his lackeys, but clients he frequently works with. Aristocrats who consider him an ally. Coppers under his thumb. That sort of thing. I’ll expect a report… oh, shall we say by Monday? That gives you an entire weekend.”
“That’s not very much time.” It sounded like the words had been shaken out of her. Zaria’s mind, though, was elsewhere. Trying todecide on a course of action. Trying to imagine how quickly she and Jules could get out of London.
Pritchard gave that empty smile again. “I think you’ll be able to make it work.”
“We know full well that your loyalty to the kingpin runs shallow,” Maisie said, her posture suggesting she’d been about to rise but decided against it. “Surely you must be paying him dues, and no doubt he threatened you to gain your compliance in the first place.” Perceiving Zaria’s guarded expression as affirmation, she added, “I think you’ll find Vaughan is a much better man to have on your side. Besides, prison is hardly your only concern. In the meantime, do you really want people to know you sold a paying client a faulty explosive? That could really damage one’s reputation.”
Zaria met the other girl’s malicious gaze and held it. “I’ve proven my reputation through my work. It’ll take more than idle gossip to ruin it.”
“So you hope,” Maisie said coolly.
“Enough,” snapped Pritchard. “Bring us quality information, and you won’t need to worry about such things.” He indicated the door. “Now, get out.”
Zaria didn’t need to be told twice. She scrambled to do so, awkwardly contorting her body to avoid Maisie’s tall form.
“Oh, and Miss Mendoza?”
This was Pritchard again. Zaria turned, half-hunched where she stood framed by the stagecoach door. “Yes?”
His eyes held a warning behind their icy amusement. “Don’ttry to skip town.”
KANE
PRESENT DAY
Kane Durante was having a hell of a week.
He might have laughed about it, had anger not been simmering at his core like chronic indigestion. Come to think of it, he hadn’t laughed once in the past three days. Not genuinely, at least. His laughter had become something dark and ugly. An unnerving sort of sound that tended to precede unpleasantries.
Perhaps that was why Tom Watson continued to watch him with such infuriating apprehension.
“Relax, Tommy.” Kane spat the order through teeth currently holding a clay pipe in place. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”
Ward’s former doorman shifted his weight. Rather than lending comfort, Kane’s words seemed to have the opposite effect. Red-haired with a smattering of freckles, Tom was pale at the best of times, but he looked positively wan as of late. Still, he’d been quick to accept Kane as Alexander Ward’s successor, which was more thancould be said for some of the blokes who had worked for the kingpin before his untimely death.
Burned to death in a house firewas the story Kane had settled on that first night he’d addressed a group of Ward’s men.Went to make good on a threat to that Horseferry pawnshop owner, and the place went up with him inside it. Bad luck. Reckon he had a bit of drink in him at the time.
Kane didn’t know how believable it was, and he didn’t particularly care. Truth be told, he didn’t care about much these days. Killing Ward seemed to have shaken something loose within him. It was as if a wall had abruptly been erected between himself and his emotions. He hadn’t meant to put it there, and yet it dominated his mind nonetheless, a towering structure through which he could almost—almost—see how he ought to have felt. But the image was foggy, unattainable. Emptiness was easier.
He relied upon that emptiness now, crossing his arms as he watched Adam Cromwell and Elijah Atwood drag Russell Davies across the threshold.
They stood in the grand entryway of the manor Ward had been staying in prior to his death. It was an impressive building, occupying the better part of a city block near St. George’s Square by the wharf. The kingpin had moved around regularly, using threats or blackmail to clear out any former occupants. He always transferred the lodgings back in the end, though, alongside the promise of a favor. That was simply the way Ward had been—a gentleman. He took and he took, but he knew the power of providing something in return.
After all, he’d taken Kane’s life, but given him a new one.
“Davies!” Kane said pleasantly, reaching past his holster to put both hands in his pockets. “There you are.”
The large man glowered at him. His face was already bruisedwhere it loomed between Adam’s and Elijah’s equally broad frames. In a way, it was fitting. The last time Kane had seen the man, it had been through eyes clouded by whiskey and vertigo, his head spinning as Davies delivered blow after blow to his face. Ward’s doing, of course. The man had been inextricably loyal to the kingpin. It was him Ward had brought to punish Kane after learning of Zaria’s involvement in the plan to steal the necklace.
“Durante.” Davies spat a glob of spittle and blood onto the floor. “You pathetic little fuck. Think you’re tough, do you, now that you’ve claimed the crown?”
