Each word is abbreviated with another finger jab.
“Keep that up, and you’ll be missing a finger along with your pride.”
Expression hardening, he doesn’t pull back. If anything, he thrusts that digit closer. “I know too much about you, Priest. About this entire damned place. You think I won’t use that information? You think I won’t—”
A squeal erupts from Jack’s mouth when I grab his hand, snap that finger backward, and listen for the telltale crack signaling a clean break. “Motherfucker!” he screams, scrambling back to cradle his hand to his chest.
“Unlike you, I don’t make promises that I can’t keep.” Slowly, I rise from my desk, my knuckles rooted to the wood. “Loyalty, Jack. It’s a simple thing.”
Still holding his broken hand to his chest, he snarls, “You don’t think I recognize a sinkin’ ship when I see one? The minute that bitch walked in here, ye’ve been unable to think with anything but your knob.”
My muscles vibrate with barely leashed control. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t I?” On shaky feet, he strides toward me, only to stutter to a halt when he sees the look on my face. “I see it. We all do. Ye watched her leave that first day like she’d taken the air with her. A fool, that’s what you are. A bird like that ain’t gonna be doin’ you any favors.”
Frustration bleeds into me, and it takes every ounce of self-possession not to beat the man to a pulp. He has no idea what the bloody hell he’s talking about. Isla is a piece of the puzzle for my long game, that’s all.
Nothing more.
I storm over to the door and swing it open. “Change of plans. You’re done now.”
“You’ll regret this, Priest,” he snaps, closing the gap with his nostrils flared, his eyes narrowed to slits. “Everything about this pub—I could spill its secrets so fast ye’d be unable to do anything to stop—”
My hand locks around his throat as I drive him into the open door. Eyes going wide, he scrabbles at my fingers.
I’ll let go when I’m good and ready.
I thrust my face close to his, until he can feel each of my knuckles cutting off his air supply. “Wasted words,” I utter, calmly, evenly. “Turning me in would only convict yourself.” I squeeze, so he’ll feel the power behind my grip. His breath heaves and mine remains steady, and still I keep him plastered against the door. “The thing about blackmail, Jack, is that it’s only successful if you’re smart enough to pull it off. Methodical to the very end.” I lower my voice. “I’d catch you every step of the way. Every time you thought you’d pulled the wool over my head, I’d beat you at your own game until there’s nothing left of you. No hope, no ambition. Save us both the headache.”
Red in the face, he breathes, “You’re a cold bastard.”
“So I’ve been told.”
I let him go with a push out the door. He stumbles forward, his gait uneven, but catches himself before landing flat on his face. Silently, I watch from the hallway as he moves toward the front of the pub. He snarls like a beast at one of the staff, then picks up a glass from a table and hurls it against the wall.
Just like a child who hasn’t gotten his way.
At all the commotion, Guy’s dark head pokes into the hall, and he glances over to where I’m standing. “Sacked him?”
I give a curt nod.
“Finally,” he says, clapping his hands together in mock applause. “This calls for a celebration. I’ve only been waiting for this moment for almost ten years.”
I stride toward him. “Can’t. I have a meeting.”
His brows knit together. “With?”
“Isla.” Pulling my mobile out from the back pocket of my trousers, I check the time. Right on target. “Is she here?”
My brother frowns. “No. Was she supposed to be?”
Yes.
“She’s probably running late,” I mutter, moving behind the bar.
But when fifteen minutes pass, and then yet another fifteen, with no signs of her strolling in through the front door, I’m forced to consider the inevitable: Isla Quinn quit on me.
Maybe yesterday’s verbal match pushed her over the edge. Or maybe that’s not it at all. Maybe she looked at her life, matched it against mine, and realized that she’s better off letting me rot alone in hell while she saves herself and her siblings.
I wouldn’t blame her.
Guy steps in beside me, taking a clean rag to a damp glass. “Still a no-show?” he asks quietly, his eyes scanning the dining area.
“Nothing.”
As much as I don’t want to entertain the thought of her quitting, it doesn’t seem at all like her either. Hell, yesterday she showed up to my brother’s flat simply to warn me that I’ve some university kids looking to cause some problems. That wasn’t part of our original terms. She came of her own volition because she wants to repay her so-called debt and keep me alive.
None of this makes sense, and I say as much to Guy.
My brother side-eyes me. “You know her well enough to make a claim like that?”
“Money talks, and she needs every penny that she can get.”
“Maybe she’s found herself another position.”
“In less than a day?” No, something is wrong. I can feel it in my gut, in the tightening of my chest.
My gaze cuts to the front door for what must be the tenth time in a matter of minutes. Ten seconds. That’s all it takes to cross from Christ Church to The Bell & Hand—twenty, if you’re purposely dragging your feet and taking your sweet time. I don’t want to even consider what could happen in the span of twenty seconds. Getting hit by a car. Being kidnapped right off the street.
I step to the left, so I can peer directly out our window onto Fournier. It’s a typical late-winter, London day. Gray skies interspersed with splashes of sunlight. A slight rain—just enough of a drizzle for Londoners to break out their umbrellas.
Nothing out of the ordinary.
My pulse quickens.
“I’m going to run by the church,” I tell Guy, who sets his now-dried glass down and picks up another from the rack, running it through with the rag.
“We don’t know her.”
“She isn’t for you to know.”
When I make a move to cut around him, Guy heads me off. “And she is for you?” he says, his voice pitched low enough to not be overheard by customers. “Be smart about this. We are not on the same side as her.”
“I’m aware.”
“Are you?” His blue eyes rove over my face, like he’s trying to get a read on me. “Because from where I’m standing, the view is crystal clear. Will you ever tell her that the intelligence she gathers is used to betray everything she believes in? Will you fake sympathy, pretending all is well when her own parents are dead because of a king that you protected? The woman I met yesterday would not turn around and kiss you in gratitude.”
I flinch.
Stepping forward, I bring my profile close to Guy’s, so that my mouth is directly next to his ear. “Don’t go there.”
He claps a hand on the nape of my neck, like we’re sharing a brotherly hug.