Adrian’s heart shuddered at the reminder. The real person responsible for that tragedy had yet to be found. Until they were, there were other matters for Adrian to attend to, like the preservation of his good name and all that it stood for.
Leaving Murry near the table that held all manner of unpleasant tools, he stepped toward Crispin and dropped to a crouch, meeting him at eye-level.
“You asked me who I was earlier.” Adrian tilted his head and studied his captive. Blood was smeared across his brow and a dark bruise had started to form at the edge of his eye. Cold fury, as dark as Adrian’s past, stared back. Unperturbed, Adrian told him smoothly, “I’m the man you stole from.”
Crispin spat on the floor, barely missing the tip of Adrian’s shoe. “I’ve stolen from many, so ye’ll have to be more specific.”
Whatever bravado had failed him when he’d stared down the barrel of Adrian’s pistol earlier had clearly returned. Adrian snorted and pushed himself upright. “I’m referring to the wine and champagne. Several crates of it, imported from France and already paid for by those I supply. People I now owe.”
It was one of the few businesses Adrian had agreed with his father on and consequently one of the ones he’d continued running after his father’s death. The smuggling network already in place had made a smooth transition with minimal work required on his part. And without the heavy taxes imposed by the government, he and his clients were able to turn a good profit. Thanks to the weight of his name, his clients even paid in advance. Which was good for business, until this sort of thing occurred.
“Where are the crates?” Adrian asked, circling toward the table Murry leaned against.
“Long gone,” Crispin said.
“I seriously doubt that.” There had been thirty in total. A large shipment for which it would take time to find other buyers. Besides which… “You were overheard last week, prattling on while drowning yourself in ale at The Black Swan.”
Adrian selected a long knife with a gleaming blade and glanced toward Crispin. The man clenched his jaw. “Whoever says they saw me there either lied or made a mistake. I’ve never set foot in that place.”
“No?” Adrian ran a gloved finger along the edge of the blade. He didn’t believe Mr. Crispin for one second. Not when the report he’d received was made by one of his own associates. Ellis would never have told Cummings to notify Adrian unless he was sure of the information he passed along.
Increasingly angry, Adrian dropped his hand and stalked toward Crispin, who shifted his gaze to the blade Adrian still held. “Finn O’Leary’s name was mentioned along with those crates.”
“I don’t know who this Finn O’Leary person is or where yer crates are,” Crispin insisted.
“Are you sure about that?” Adrian set the tip of the blade right beneath Crispin’s chin and pressed upward, puncturing flesh and forcing a wince from between his lips. “Stings, doesn’t it?”
“Let me go,” Crispin snarled.
Adrian only forced his chin higher. “Whatever you fear O’Leary will do, I’ll do ten times over unless you start talking.”
“Really?” It was clear Crispin didn’t believe him. “Toffs like ye don’t dirty their ’ands in such ways. It’s all bluster in the end, in’it? Show off some strength, some weapons, a tough bloke with a bit o’ muscle, and ye think ye can bend anyone to yer will. Bloody laughable is what it is.”
An unexpected laugh burst from Adrian’s throat. He stared at Crispin. “You really have no idea who I am, do you?”
“Told ye as much more than once, didn’t I?”
“Forgive me. All things considered, I thought you were just being rude or dishonest, but allow me to introduce myself then. I’m Mr. Adrian Croft, King of Portman Square.”
It was a curious thing, watching arrogance drain from a man’s every feature until the only thing remaining was pure dread. Indeed, from the way in which Crispin was suddenly shuffling his feet and twisting against his restraints, it very much looked like he was hoping to make an impossible escape. Through the wall behind him.
“Just to be clear,” Adrian said, “I know you’re working for O’Leary. I also know you stole my crates. How I decide to punish you for it will come down to how forthright you choose to be.”
“They’re in a ware’ouse by the docks,” Crispin said in a rush. Incredibly, he’d blanched even more. “I…I was only followin’ orders.”
“When did O’Leary hire you?” Adrian asked.
“About a month ago.”
“And how many others are currently in his employ?”
“I’m not sure.” When Adrian snatched hold of Crispin’s finger and started bending it backwards, the man confessed, “Three others helped me steal the crates, and I saw two more when I went to report our success to O’Leary.”
Adrian released his hold on Crispin’s finger. “Where did the two of you meet?”
“At The Mad Bull. He likes the place or it seems that way ’cause that’s where I’m always able to find ’im. As far as I know, most of ’is crew, including me, was there to fight.”
Made sense, Adrian supposed. If one was in need of some tough enforcers, who better to recruit than the sort of men who were used to bare-knuckle brawling? O’Leary would have been able to gauge each man’s capabilities before making them an offer.
