“You mean someone was stalking you?” Scarlet said, mirroring Camille’s thoughts. She glanced at Pops and Camille, her gaze turning murderous. “I’m going to scoop out that bastard’s intestines and force-feed them down his throat.”
Camille wanted to smile at the whole family’s bloodthirsty but loyal nature, but she couldn’t.
“It wasn’t Hawkins,” Syd said.
“I know it wasn’t Hawkins,” Scarlet snapped. “That mutt couldn’tshitwithout filling his boots.”
The sisters’ grins were identical. Pops crossed the room to wrap an arm around each girl.
Camille watched the threesome, each more violently tempered than the next, and something like longing twisted the heart in her chest. Family. Where hers had manipulated and schemed to use their relations for personal gain, others, like the Laundrys, would beat and threaten their way through the whole of St. Giles to keep their loved ones safe.
Was this what it would be like if she stayed with Renard? Was this what it would be like to have a child?
Her longing was replaced with a seed of joy.
She rubbed a small circle on her abdomen and let the seed grow into the tiniest sprout of hope. Hope she prayed wasn’t mixed with poison.
*
The raised voicescoming from Madam’s main office had Camille leaving the pile of files on her desk and walking to the one-way window.
Through the tinted glass, she saw Madam had visitors: Markus Laundry and Lucien Greystone, the two remaining leaders of Dockside and the collection of the rookeries peppered throughout London. The three heads coming together: An inconvenience for the coroner was forthcoming.
Taking in Lucien’s oppressing frame and dead eyes, Camille shuddered, feeling death’s presence for the fifth time in as many days.
Markus thumped his fist on the edge of Madam’s desk. “Something must be done!”
Madam cocked a brow at the man’s ire. “Your anger is understandable.” She waited until Markus took his seat. “How is Syd?”
His expression softened a fraction. “Better.”
Lucien stood in the corner, his back to the only wall without doors or the glass mirror, as if refusing to open himself up for an attack, even in the presence of comrades. His gaze flicked to where she stood hidden behind the glass, as if he knew she was listening. “It’s the Merry’s job to keep the scum off the streets. Your renowned captain isn’t as untouchable as led to believe, it seems. Send him my way.” Lucien cracked his knuckles. “I’ll get him up to snuff.”
Markus was out of his chair in a flash and pushing the younger man against the wall, their heights and weights a laughably uneven match. “Say that again, Lu, and I’ll gut you.”
Madam sighed. “Sit down, Markus. No one is questioning Syd’s skills. This man would have to rival the devil himself to avoid all the Merrys despite the round-the-clock rounds. And Lucien is as guilty as you for not keeping his fighters in line.” She steepled her fingers and leaned her elbows on the desk. “Are we in agreement that this is the same bastard who’s been leaving bodies on our streets? At both men’s nods, she continued. “I was convinced it was you, Lucien, cleaning house until the attack on the Merrys.”
Lucien waited until Markus had regained his seat to respond. “I’d never be so sloppy.”
Markus snorted. “No, you’d dump the bodies in the Thames and let the corpses drift out to sea.” The man sounded approving.
“Could there be a new player on the streets?” Lucien asked.
Madam shook her head. “My spies haven’t seen or heard anything.”
“Then the bastard is trained,” Markus said. “No ordinary thug could catch Syd unawares, especially not from the roofs.”
“Meaning it’s someone who’s been seen before, but who hadn’t been labeled a threat.” Madam’s expression looked worried. “That isn’t good news.”
“What about that dandy?” Markus asked. “Been coming to the tavern every other night looking for ’is sister. Word has it she works here.”
Camille gasped. She’d never considered Hamish would go after Hawkins’s men. If Markus thought it possible, it meant Scarlet had reservations about the duke and had told her Pops. Camille leaned closer to the mirror, watching the other two’s faces for signs of agreement. Hamish may have borne a disturbing resemblance to their father, but she wouldn’t suspect him of anything so violent.
But she’d seen how far his anger could push him. Dread churned her already nauseous insides. If he’d learned what Hawkins and his friends had intended to do to her that night, would Hamish have made it his mission to stop them—permanently?
How would he have found out? After Camille had asked her to, Scarlet had made it plain to any of the Jews and Irish that any gentleman poking around after her would be met with silence. No one would betray Scarlet, not one of their own.
Madam shook her head. “That particular gentleman is no threat.”
