“She and Peregrine—”
Reaper snorted. “Are not associated?”
Maxen sent him a warning glance. “That is yet to be determined.”
“Seemed pretty determined to me,frère.”
Saint demanded, “Then why the hell aren’t we handling her as we should?”
“Because I don’t want to make the same mistake I made with my mother,” Maxen snapped. He hadn’t paid attention back then. Hadmissed key tells, and he’d paid a great price for it. No, this time, all his attention would be on his mark until he had all the answers he sought.
That silenced them again.
“Christ,frère,” Reaper murmured, and for once, without a trace of sarcasm.
Dagger’s boots hit the ground with a thud as he leaned forward. “So she matters, then.”
“I didn’t say that,” Maxen bit out.
“You did.” This from Knight.
“Don’t talk shite.” He only didn’t want to overlook anything when it came to her. That was all. Vigilance was not attachment. Suspicion was not interest. And yet, what he would never admit to these cretins was that she mattered because he didn’t want her to matter. Because he kept hearing her voice in his head when he was trying to forget it. Because when she looked at him, something old and rusted inside him moved.
“Well cock on a duck.”
“Stop bloody saying that,” Dagger snapped at Reaper.
Maxen’s lips curled. “Agreed.”
Knight gave a low sound of agreement, too.
“How long before you challenge us to a fistfight over the mouse?” Reaper asked. “I bet five-hundred quid it will happen in a week.”
“Two,” Knight said.
“Never,” Saint offered.
Damn them all to perdition.
“Whether you like it or not,” Dagger said, “we need Drake to do an in-depth inquiry into her. He’s got contacts in London.”
“Why London?” Knight asked.
“That’s where her solicitor is stationed,” Dagger informed them.
Maxen didn’t disagree.
“I don’t need to tell you all the things that can go wrong,” Dagger added. “Too many threads, too many unknown variables.”
Maxen tightened his fingers around his glass. “I need a word with Rollings.”
The man might have information about her they needed.
A gust of wind howled against the windows, and Reaper shivered. “I bloody hate the wind. It’s days like these I miss a good old lit fire.”
Maxen’s growl split the room. “Don’t you bloody dare.”
Reaper groaned. “I’m only complaining about the cold,frère. Serpent’s not even listening.”
