Chapter Three #2
Over the years, he and his brothers had built a tightly knit network in Brighton, their influence extending beyond the shadows and into every crevice of the town’s economy. But he had no intention of sharing that detail with this arse.
Peregrine cocked his head. “I see you finally rented that shop of yours.”
A flare of warning raced through Maxen’s gut.
He’d known the moment he learned Dagger had leased the shop that trouble would follow.
But he hadn’t expected trouble to arrive so soon or in this particular form.
Of course, this puffed-up nob had heard the local speculations—rumors that he never rented the place because the property concealed buried treasure or some long-lost fortune.
Nothing could be further from the truth.
Yet those misguided tales had a way of attracting exactly the wrong sort, and Peregrine was no exception.
“I have,” Maxen replied, his voice cold, uninterested. “What about it? Don’t tell me you were interested?”
“On the contrary,” Peregrine said, his gaze flicking to the scent shop and back. “I merely wondered what finally made the place worth leasing. Quite the tenant you have there.”
Maxen cursed in his heart. Men like Peregrine were vultures.
So long as they could get what they wanted, little else mattered.
“I don’t care to decipher the nonsense rattling around in that goat head of yours, but she lives on my land.
Under my roof. If you cause her any trouble, I’ll make damn sure you regret ever learning to walk upright. Stay away from me and mine.”
“How arrogant of you to presume that pretty little thing is yours. What if I take a fancy to her?”
Maxen’s fists clenched.
The thought of Peregrine’s hands anywhere near his new tenant stirred a bone-deep urge to throttle the man. Something primitive snarled inside him. It was madness. She was nothing to him. A tenant. A nuisance. A loose thread.
Yet Peregrine’s words left a bitter taste in his mouth.
Only because she is living on my turf.
And in that space.
He didn’t want any vermin sniffing around there.
“That’s unfortunate for her. I mean it, Peregrine. Test me if you want to lose a limb.”
“Honestly, Fury, why so sensitive? I accidentally burned down your brothel two years ago. Get over it.”
“It was a tavern, not a brothel,” Maxen bit out. “And it just happened to go up in flames the same night one of my warehouses was robbed. I’ve looked into your affairs. That wasn’t the first time things mysteriously burned down around you.” There was also still the matter of his current shipment.
“Nothing mysterious about it,” Peregrine replied with a shrug. “I compensated you fully, didn’t I?”
“I lost ten times what you paid me.” Not to mention crates and crates of black tea and silks.
“I don’t tolerate loss, so I don’t tolerate you.
” He nodded to the building on his right, and Dagger stepped from the shadows, his long black coat parting just enough to reveal the outline of daggers lining the inside.
Then, he lifted his chin to one of the rooftops, and Reaper’s silhouette moved into view, signature coin flipping between his fingers.
Drake must have slipped off to tend other matters.
“I’d clear out, if I were you. That is, if you still wish to keep all your limbs attached to your body. ”
Peregrine’s smile faded, his gaze flicking between the brothers, jaw clenching. He lifted his hands in mock surrender, forcing a smile. “I’m off. No need to puff yourself up, Fury.”
Maxen watched the blackguard stride away, whistling as though he hadn’t a care in the world. Instinct warned him that this wasn’t the end of it. No, Peregrine, as was evident by his damnable presence, was the type to reappear.
Dagger walked over. “You think he’s going to be a problem?”
“Yes, though I’m not yet sure how big of one.”
“The shipment.”
Maxen nodded. “His appearance is too convenient. Find out when he arrived in town and whether it coincides with our crates being stolen. Also,” he glanced back at The Whispering Wick, “see if there’s any connection between him and my tenant.”
God help them both if there were.
“You still suspect she’s a spy?”
“She’s hiding something.” And he didn’t like it. “Mysteries rarely bode well for us.”
“Then it’s unfortunate she’s a woman. Their secrets and mysteries run deep.”
“I don’t care how bloody deep they run, so long as they don’t interfere with my business.” Maxen gritted his teeth and shot his brother a look. “Which is already a moot point, seeing as you rented her this particular space.”
“Do you know how many properties we have? I thought you moved the barrels of gunpowder next door.”
“That one connects to the tunnels,” Maxen bit out.
Dagger gave a slight shrug. “It was dark, and I was half in my cups. I can barely get your tunnels straight when I’m sober.”
Maxen curled his lip but said nothing. It didn’t matter.
The barrels were safely hidden, so the chances of her finding them were slim.
However, their access to them would be blocked for the duration of her lease.
Until then, all he had to do was steer clear of the sweet-smelling Calliope Turner yet keep an eye on her at the same time.
As easy as snatching sweets from a babe.
He would know.
They’d been snatched from him more times than he could count.