Chapter 2 #2
“You have yourself a deal.” Thomasin didn’t think about what she was getting herself into before she said it.
She rarely did. Consequences were something she thought about only when they appeared.
And at that moment, her mind was filled only with images of gold coins and the girl who was just naive enough to give them all to Thomasin.
Edith’s expression turned blank and then blossomed into sheer ecstasy.
“Thank you so much,” she squealed, bouncing on the tips of her toes.
Thomasin had always associated squealing with stuck pigs and other annoying creatures.
But the way Edith did it, like she just couldn’t possibly contain her enthusiasm, was oddly endearing.
It sure was going to be depressing when there turned out to be no secret treasure or magical sword.
Thomasin relished the girl’s endless stream of gratitude and excitement as she ushered Edith from the attic and deposited her in one of the unoccupied guest rooms. The inn wasn’t just a front for the syndicate’s more illicit dealings.
She made her way downstairs and behind the bar to pluck a bottle of rum from the shelf.
Taking a large swig, Thomasin prepared herself for how annoying it was going to be to listen to Worthing’s reaction when she told him of their newest scheme.
Thomasin trudged upstairs, ruing the fact that she couldn’t just kill Worthing.
Hell, maybe she could. Marshall was dead and Thomasin wasn’t a fool.
She knew that dead meant gone. He wasn’t watching over them, and he certainly didn’t have wants or wishes anymore.
But still, every time Worthing crawled under her skin with his lectures or snivelingly underhanded advice and she wanted nothing more than to at least cast him out, she remembered Marshall and how highly he had valued Worthing’s loyalty.
Near the end, she had been summoned to Marshall’s quarters.
He was a large man, and even after being ravaged by sickness, he dwarfed the bed.
Thomasin had perched on the stool next to him.
He had looked at her without any emotion marring his features.
He had been everything that a crime boss should be.
Hard, unfeeling, authoritative. Thomasin knew that he expected those things from her as well, so she hadn’t reached out to hold his hand, or to brush the sweat from his clammy forehead.
“I’m naming you my successor.” His voice was raspy, and his breath stuttered through the words. Thomasin had thought she misheard him. She’d only been twenty years old then. Worthing was eleven years her senior and had been at Marshall’s side far longer than she had.
“I don’t understand,” she had said dumbly. “What about Worthing? Everyone expects—”
“He doesn’t have your mettle. You’ve been a killer since you were a child. Worthing is loyal, and he’ll serve you well, but in order to lead the syndicate, the syndicate must be all that you are. You cannot have any life, any meaning beyond it.”
It was true. She was a criminal and nothing else. Thomasin had nodded blankly.
“The Sunless Syndicate is yours. Do not let anyone take it from you, and do not fail me.”
“I won’t fail you. I promise.”
He had dismissed her with a wave of his hand, and the next time she had seen him, his body was being lowered into his grave.
She had kept her promise to him. She led ruthlessly and kept Worthing at her side.
Thomasin couldn’t bring herself to go directly against Marshall’s wishes, no matter how weak she knew that sentiment made her.
Ironically, if Worthing knew that such emotion existed within her, he’d use it to his advantage without blinking.
Even if it was the only thing keeping him alive and employed.
Thomasin shoved the past from her thoughts with another long drink, the rum burning her throat. She barged into her second-in-command’s quarters with a well-placed kick to the door. He jolted from where he lay on the bed.
“Napping in the middle of the day?” Thomasin barked. Better to start him off on the defensive.
It didn’t last long. The further Thomasin got into explaining Edith’s plan, the more she found herself being the defensive one.
“You can’t possibly think it’s smart to galavant across the country on a treasure hunt right now!
The Metropolitan Police have it in for you.
You finally pushed them too far, and now you want to do this?
It’s not like the old days of the constabulary.
The Metropolitan are well organized, well funded, and well connected.
It’s going to take a lot more than a bag of gold and a few favors to get them to turn a blind eye.
” He drew out each word, speaking to her as if she were unbelievably stupid.
“We’re this close from having to flee England, and instead of conserving resources and making a plan, you want to waste our time on some hysterical girl’s fairy tale?
If we don’t figure out how to deal with the chief inspector soon, we’re all dead. ”
Thomasin stepped closer, forcing him to stumble back against the bed. “You overstep.”
His chin dipped in deference, but his eyes remained hard. “I apologize, but we have absolutely no room for mistakes right now, and that’s what this would be.”
“No.” Thomasin drew a dagger from the strap across her bicep.
She pressed the length of it to his stubbled neck and pushed until he had no choice but to fall onto the mattress.
She towered over him now. “This is not a mistake. It’s a plan.
A plan to make so much money all our problems will disappear. ”
“Please don’t tell me you believe in treasure,” he whined, his face screwing up with condescending pity.
Thomasin smiled. Her life had spiraled out of her control in more ways than one.
Even when everything was going well, she was still miserable.
Something had to change, and there was only one thing in this world powerful enough to alter someone’s fate.
“No, I don’t believe in treasure. But I do believe in ransom money. ”