Chapter Twenty-Five
Percy knew nothingbut the swiftness of his legs and the surety he was heading straight for a bomb constructed with more than one safeguard and a probable secondary ignition.
Risking a straight path to the bomb, Percy ran with confidence, knowing Danny would be watching his six and twelve and all his sides... which was why he was surprised when a man in a silk vest and familiar greying hair snuck up behind him without gaining a new hole to breathe out of.
He wheeled around, hand going for his knife.
Percy dropped his hand and cursed. “Ridley?”
What the hell was the old man doing here? Had something fallen apart on his end?
“Did the pardons not come through?” he asked.
“Pardons are safe.” Ridley patted his breast pocket. “No need to worry.” His usual grin looked seething. “The names of the Duke of Lux and the Duke of Camine were interesting additions. It’s unlike you to involve other people.”
“Is that why you’re here?” Percy huffed. He didn’t have time to deal with the other man’s vanity right now. He could see the bomb in the trees from here, the weighted bag more than half-empty with the slit in the bottom for the sand to fall through.
Percy mumbled something compliant and completely hogwash to the other man about trust and remembering the chain of command.
His attention flicked back to the trees.
Why weren’t there guards posted? Did Nic not trust anyone too close for fear of setting the thing off? Or were reinforcements waiting out of sight, given orders to ambush the first person who stumbled upon the device?
“I have a pressing matter, Ridley. If you’ll excuse me?” Percy didn’t wait for an answer. He aimed for a spot farther back to come at the bomb from an angle through the trees, hoping to displace any unsuspecting sentinels with a good blade to the spine before they became a problem.
Guess he’d have to do a solid pass through the entire surrounding area first before he’d get his chance at defusing anything. A delay he wouldn’t have to make if those insipid Merry fuckers had been doing their jobs.
It would take time—time they lost with every moment—but he’d walk the whole estate if that was what it took to do this right.
He made it all of ten steps.
Percy stopped cold at the sound of a hammer cocking.
His mind raced, his muscles went rigid at the immediate danger, but it was the lump of muscle in his chest that had him frozen in place with the first realization of betrayal.
He glanced back at Ridley and the gun the other man had pulled from somewhere on his person.
For all his boasts of skill, Percy hadn’t suspected once. The ploy of official orders, the offer to assist in hopes of learning the shortfalls, this ridiculous production. “It wasyou?”
Ridley smiled. “Surprise, old friend.”
Percy ran a hand through his hair, cursing, reeling, at a loss of composure. He’d known Ridley for half his life. “Are there even mercenaries, or was that all twaddle too?”
“Oh, my men are very realandwell paid,” Ridley said. “And with no connection to HO, there’s no chance of help coming.”
Jesus, he’d told Ridley everything about the Merry Men and his friendship with Gregori. Percy could only pray now his missive to Ridley’s office detailing the discovery of explosives and change of trap from the docks to Fellow Hall had come after the rat bastard had set out to blindside him.
If Ridley was the one pulling Nic’s strings, the entire play had changed. Ridley would never set off a bomb in London where the lack of forewarning would cast the Home Office in a poor light, especially over the man who ran it.Unlessthe real target was too unpredictable to track down.
Until a dukedom had rooted him in place.
Percy was a threat, had been since leaving the Home Office with all its secrets. But he’d never given any reason for a man like Ridley to question the looseness of Percy’s tongue.
Something else was driving Ridley to take him out now. Percy’s newfound status and pull in society? Didn’t matter the reason. Because if the old goat was involved, there was a chance everyone could still walk away without bloodshed. Percy would take negotiating with a grasping bureaucrat over a homicidal maniac.
If he played his cards right, gave Ridley the inkling Percy knew more than he did, he could bluff a way out of this mess. He had to. The bag was emptying.
“Whatever you’re scheming,” Ridley said, “don’t. You have no play here. This face-to-face was but a courtesy. I could have shot you in the back and been done with this headache at any time.”
