“I’m not,” Zaria shot back. “Despite what people say, it’s a perfectly valid job, and often a well-paying one. But I willnotbe forced into—”
Kane put a finger to his lips, guiding her close to the wall once more; she’d backed away from him in her indignation. “Christ, Mendoza, I’m not asking you to sleep with the man. I would never do that.” His gaze was hard, serious, the bite in his tone surprising her. “I have Adam and Elijah standing guard outside the nearest brothel. I’ve rented a room there for the night, but not for the reasons anyone thinks. If what I know about Cubitt is true, he’ll follow you therebased on nothing more than a smile and a wave. You’ll lead him upstairs to me, where I’ll be waiting to have a conversation with him.”
Zaria relaxed. “You’re using me to corner him.”
“Correct. You won’t need to so much as touch the man. And should he try anything, I’ll cut off every single one of his fingers and shove them down his throat until he asphyxiates.”
“Lovely,” she said, and repressed a shudder—whether at the prospect of Cubitttrying anythingor at the disgusting mental image, she wasn’t entirely sure. As far as Kane’s requests went, she supposed it could have been worse. “Why is it so important that you speak with him?”
Kane checked his pocket watch again. “No time to explain, but it’ll become clear soon enough. I’ll want you in there with me, just in case he makes any references to alchemology that I don’t understand.”
“Is that likely?”
“I haven’t a clue.” Kane’s head snapped up, a lock of dark hair falling across his brow. His eyes sharpened, fixing on the entrance to Mansion House. “All right. They’ll emerge any moment now, so I need you to listen very carefully. When I point out Cubitt, catch his eye and do whatever it takes to get him to follow you. A suggestive grin, a beckoning finger… I don’t care. Lead him to the corner and turn onto Queen Street, then cross the river and take a right on Bankside. Walk until you see Adam and Elijah. They’ll be directly outside a brothel that faces the wharf. Once you’re in the building, go upstairs and enter the first room on the left. Got it?”
Zaria’s head spun as she tried to commit the instructions to memory. The entire walk should take no more than ten minutes. Still, she could think of approximately a hundred ways in which it could go wrong. “How can you even be certain Cubitt will follow me?”
Kane remained focused on Mansion House. “I’m notcertain, but close enough. It’s not uncommon to seek out clients on the street, nor to keep your distance until you’ve both reached the meeting place so as not to arouse suspicion. Trust me—a man like him won’t say no to a girl like you.” His upper lip pulled back as he spoke, betraying what might have been… apprehension? Before Zaria could decide, Kane tensed, an animal locking in for the kill. “There he is.”
She followed his gaze. Several nondescript older men had emerged from Mansion House at the same time. “Which one?”
“White hair, gray coat.”
Zaria narrowed in on Cubitt. He appeared to be in his sixties, with a prominent nose and a shock of white hair as Kane had described. He held himself with an air of dignity and moved with careful confidence, his high-necked shirt and silk bow tie suggesting he came from wealth. By now, several carriages had lined up to take their eminent employers away, and Cubitt called a farewell to a couple of the other men before crossing the street.
“Go,” Kane said under his breath. “Now.And you’d do well to remember what’s at stake if you mess this up.”
Resisting the urge to make a rude gesture, Zaria ducked away from him, strolling out of the shadows and directly into Cubitt’s path.
The older man took note of her at once, his brown eyes surprisingly keen and lively. Zaria arched a brow as if their meeting had been utterly coincidental, letting a demure smile curve her lips. She slowed her pace, chancing a look over her shoulder. Kane was already gone. It made sense, given that he needed to reach the brothel before her, but his absence rankled in a way that didn’t make sense. It wasn’t like she wanted him here, watching her do this.
All around her, well-dressed men clambered into stagecoaches or loitered on the steps of Mansion House, conversing in the irritatinglyloud voices of those who had never been ordered into silence. Zaria could feel more than one other pair of eyes on her, but she avoided them, crooking a single finger at Cubitt. He reacted at once, adjusting his cravat as he glanced around to ensure nobody was watching him. Then, heart in her throat, Zaria rounded the corner.
She kept her gait slow, listening for some indication that she was being pursued. This plan of Kane’s was absurd. There was no guarantee that Cubitt would evenwanther, let alone be willing to traverse the dark streets all the way across the river. And yet if this failed, it would be her fault. How ridiculous.
Zaria blew out a breath, prepared to resign herself to the fact that she was quite alone, when she heard the echo of footfalls behind her.
“All right, then,” she murmured to herself, throwing a wink over her shoulder—Cubitt was indeed half a block back, his cheeks flushed and his chest heaving. “Let’s do this.”
KANE
Kane trailed Zaria until she reached the bridge. Based on what Ward had written about Cubitt, Kane was fairly certain his plan would work, but he wasn’t sure what kind of man they were dealing with. Yes, Cubitt was older, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t try anything. Kane hadn’t been lying when he’d said he would hack fingers off. Now that Zaria was working for him, he was in charge of her safety. That was how a kingpin operated—he punished those who dared harm a member of his crew. Only the kingpin himself was allowed to do such a thing.
Cubitt, however, didn’t strike Kane as the violent type. That, and he knew Zaria was able to hold her own. So he crossed the bridge in a flat-out sprint, face screwed up against the cold, pungent spray of the river. This brought him to London’s Southwark borough, an area he didn’t often have occasion to visit. In fact, Kane didn’t frequent this side of the river much at all, but it was ideal for meeting withsomeone of import—someone like William Cubitt—who wouldn’t be able to tie anything here back to Kane or the crew.
He slowed as he drew up to the brothel on Bankside, directing a mock salute at Adam and Elijah. They’d followed his instructions without question, though they looked distinctly uncomfortable, watching patrons and girls slip in and out of the building. He knew neither of them had much interest in this sort of thing.
“Evening,” said Kane with a wink, to which both boys gave a stiff nod.
This particular establishment was a favorite of many middle- to upper-class men, Ward having once been among their number. It was discreet and relatively clean, run by a woman who looked as if she’d killed before and would do it again.
“Adelaide,” Kane said to her now, spotting her just inside the door. The foyer was dimly lit, scented with perfume and smoke. Adelaide Baker leaned against the patterned wall with a pipe in hand, her blonde hair loose around her, watching him through half-lidded eyes.
“Master Hunt.” She let him approach, extending a hand to which he briefly pressed his lips. “I received your message. I must say, it surprised me.”
Kane smiled. Despite having told Zaria everything was already arranged, he’d sent the request for a private room only an hour prior. But as luck would have it, it was a Tuesday, and Adelaide always did her best to please a kingpin. “It’s not for the reason you’d think, Ada. Can you spare the room?”
She shrugged, exhaling a breath of smoke. “Of course. No blood on my floor, though, or you’ll pay double.”
