Page 56 of A Story of Love

Cora had been pretty not too long ago but life on the water’s edge was not kind to women. Fast suspected the men she normally had commerce with hadn’t been too kind either, based on the hardened crew drinking at tables all around him.

“I need an extra set of eyes and ears, Cora.”

“Er, who is it you’re lookin’ for, milord?”

“He might have changed his name, but he was called Garcia. He crewed his way here from Gran Canaria and will speak with a heavy accent.” He smiled at her look of disbelief. “I know, I know—there are a great many foreigners milling about down here with heavy accents, but not so many are Spaniards. Do you know the accent?”

“Aye, milord.”

“If you come across him—even if you are not certain—send a message to The King’s Purse immediately. Ask for me or Mr. Gregg. You know him?”

“Aye, everyone knows Mr. Gregg, sir.”

Fast gestured to the sovereign and then stood as she tucked the coin away. “And Cora?”

“Yes, my lord?”

“This is just between us. If this man learns I’m looking for him he’ll go to ground.”

“I understand, sir.”

Fast made his way out of the bar, aware that dozens of eyes followed him out the door. That wasn’t unusual. He was an oddity on the docks—a peer who owned a whorehouse and had for years captained a ship. People knew who he was, which made it difficult to do anything without drawing attention. But they were running out of time, and he could no longer afford to be subtle.

The Virgin Queen—the bar he’d just left—had been his fourth tavern that night, and he’d handed out four sovereigns. But there were dozens of shady bars all along the waterfront.

Unfortunately, Gregg’s carefully devised trap for Mr. Garcia had fallen through earlier that evening. While it was true that Garcia had been snared, it had been the wrong Garcia. Even so, the meeting hadn’t been utterly useless as Mr. Garcia was, in fact, acquainted with the man they were seeking. Indeed, he claimed to have seen their quarry a scant hour before at the Jolly Taxpayer, a truly desperate tavern.

Gregg and Fast had hastened to the disreputable watering hole only to discover that Garcia had gone. They had decided to continue their canvassing, but to split up. Fast was working the establishments by Bell Wharf while Gregg was—

“Take your hands off me!”

Fast’s head whipped around at the sound of the familiar voice, which came from the alley he was just passing. Disbelief momentarily froze him in place before a feminine cry rang out and he sprang into action, bolting down the alley toward the source of the distress.

“You are hurting me!”

“Now, now, hen. Just come along wiff me nice an’ easy-like. All my guv wants is to ‘ave a word wiff you,” a male voice soothed. “If ye’ll juss—aaargh, you bitch! You bit me!”

“If you lay so much as a finger on her, it will be the last thing you do,” Fast said as the hulking brute raised his ham-sized fist, which was indeed bleeding.

The man went rigid, his forehead furrowed. “Oo the devil are you?”

He ignored the question and strode toward the giant, who was taller even than Fast and had another two stone on him. “Let her go. Now.”

The huge brute lifted his bloody fist, but in a placating gesture, keeping a grip on Lorelei’s upper arm with his other hand. “Ere, then. No need to come the ugly, guv. I’ll pay the dibs if she belongs to you.”

Miss Fontenot gasped. “I do not belong to any—”

“Release her and step away,” Fast barked.

The other man’s small eyes suddenly widened in comprehension. “Yer Lor’ Severn, ain’t ye?”

Fast lunged for him and the man stumbled back, shoving Miss Fontenot toward him. “’Ere! Take ‘er!”

“Get behind me,” Fast snapped, relieved when she obeyed without any argument. He glared across the filthy alley at the giant, who’d raised both his hands, his posture defensive rather than aggressive. “You said your employer wants to talk to her. Who do you work for?”

“I wasn’t gonna ‘urt ‘er.”

“What did you want from her?”