Chapter 34
TROY
Eighteen months ago.
Hen and Chickens Court
Scalding Alley, Fleet Street
We always meet at the Hen and Chickens tavern, always. And I always claim the corner table farthest from the fire, where the darkness squats thick enough to drown in. It’s where I can see both doors and the narrow stairs leading to the rooms above.
This is the kind of establishment where the wrong word will get you a broken bottle between the ribs.
But the owner of this dive, who knows me only as Sweeney, more often than not keeps my table clear, because the nights when I’m around, no one dares to break anything.
And no one bothers us, especially her, because they know she’s with me.
But I couldn’t give a fuck about that now.
She’s late.
Nell is never late.
I check my watch for the third time in as many minutes. 8:45. She should have been here an hour ago.
Where the hell is she?
These last few months, we’ve fallen into a rhythm.
Every Tuesday, she brings me fragments of evidence—ledgers, letters, witness names.
All pieces of the puzzle that will prove Richard Lovett orchestrated the fire that killed my family, and finally clear the name Swanley, if I want to take it that far.
I still haven’t decided what I’m going to do when it comes to that. Burn it? Give it to the damn pigs and see it disappear.
I don’t care.
But she seems to want to do this, and for some Godforsaken reason, I’ve not put a stop to it yet.
This girl, who hired me to kill him and then decided to help me destroy him, is like an angel sent from heaven to make my hell worth living.
Each time I see her, I find myself taking in everything about her—the way she bites her lower lip when she’s nervous, how her eyes light up when she’s won some verbal sparring match against me I didn’t even know I was playing, the slight blush she makes whenever I tell her there’s flour on her face after coming here straight from the bakery where she works.
I’m addicted to the shape of her laugh, the scent of her hair when she leans close to show me things she’s discovered, even the way she takes me in, like I’m someone worth risking everything for.
Dangerous ground for an ex-con, a killer, and a dead man all rolled into one.
Finally, the door scrapes open, letting in a blast of cold air. My hand moves instinctively to the razor in my pocket, but then I see a flash of blonde and the designer coat that’s become as familiar as my own blades, and I let out a sigh of relief.
But it’s short-lived.
Nell stumbles inside, and immediately, I know something’s wrong.
She’s breathing too hard, her coat’s buttoned up incorrectly, and she didn’t even bother to wear a hat today. That and there’s a wild energy about her that sets every one of my teeth on edge. When her eyes find mine across the dim pub, they’re not filled with her usual determination.
They’re blazing, lit up from within like she’s won the goddam lottery.
She hurries over. Before I can stand and ask what the hell’s happened, she’s throwing herself into my arms with enough force that my chair tips backward. Her cheeks are ice, and her hands are cold as they draw me to her, and then her mouth is on mine.
She smells of cinnamon and baking, and under that, wild lavender.
Her kiss reminds me of rain and recklessness, and for a moment, the pub with its punters sneaking glances at this breath of fresh air, while nursing their warm pints of ale, fades away.
The revenge, the evidence, the careful distance I’ve been trying my damnedest to keep…
all of it burns away in the warmth of her lips against mine.
When she pulls back, I’m gripping her waist hard enough to bruise, my heart thudding in a way that has nothing to do with slicing veins or violence.
“I found it,” she breathes against my mouth, her words tumbling out in a rush. “I saw everything, the contracts, the payments. It’s all there. He kept it. He bloody kept it.”
“Slow down.” I keep my voice steady even as my blood starts to burn. “What have you found? Where?”
“His pet food factory.” She’s practically vibrating now.
“I was working late at the bakery and my...his wife asked me to take him some dinner. I saw him open his private safe. Everything we’ve been looking for is inside.
” Her eyes are fever-bright. “Proof of the payments to the arsonist. Forged documents about your family’s debts. All of it.”
“Why would he keep it?”
She shrugs. “Don’t all sick, sadistic bastards like to keep trophies?”
We do, and I make a note never to let her loose where I live or she’ll find mine.
“I’m going back.”
My hands tighten on her. “When?”
She looks away. “I don’t know yet, but soon.
” She’s lying, but she’s already pulling away, mind already scheming, always three steps ahead of me.
“Next time I’m next asked to take his dinner.
The security guard knows me, so he won’t notice anything different.
I just won’t leave straight away. I’ll hide somewhere until he’s gone.
He’s always at his club until midnight. Then I’ll slip in through the loading docks, to the canal—”
“No.” The word comes out harsher than I intend. “No, you’re not doing that.”
“I have to. If we wait—”
“Then we both do it.”
“No.” She grips my coat, pulling me to her. “It has to be me. I work at his wife’s bakery. If I’m caught, I can talk my way out, say I forgot something…left a fork. But if you’re there? If you’re caught breaking into Richard’s factory?” She shakes her head. “He’ll put you away for life.”
Every instinct I have screams at me to lock her in the room upstairs, to refuse, to go myself and damn the consequences. But she’d claw my eyes out before she let me do that. She’s never taken my shit—and it’s why we’ve made it this far.
And I can’t keep her in a cage, no matter how much my dark side wants to.
“How are you getting out?” My voice is rough.
“The factory backs onto the canal.”
“Don’t tell me you’re going to bloody swim.”
“Did I tell you I’m a champion swimmer?” That wild grin again, the one that makes her look fearless and breakable all at once.
She has told me…several times.
“I’ll put everything in one of these waterproof bags, slip out the canal side, and be gone before anyone knows. Crazy Roy has a boat—”
“You are not swimming. And Crazy Roy’s boat is a rust bucket that just about floats.” I take her face, force her to focus on me instead of her brilliant, suicidal plan. “Nell, the Thames current is vicious this time of year. If you cramp up—”
“I won’t cramp up.”
“If you cramp up,” I continue, my thumb brushing her cheekbone, “You won’t be able to swim. Not in that damn water. Do you understand me?”
Something flickers in her eyes—the first hint of real fear I’ve seen since she burst through that door. Good. She should be afraid. Fear keeps you from feeling like you’re already dead.
“I’ll be fine,” she exhales.
“Fine isn’t fucking good enough.”
“Stop hen-pecking me.” She covers my hand with hers, and her fingers are ice-cold despite the pub’s warmth. “I’ll be fine. We need this. This is the evidence we’ve been looking for that clears your name. It proves you didn’t kill your family and can give you your life back.”
What life? I want to ask. I’ve been dead since the fire. They took everything from me and buried it with my family.
But looking at her now…this beautiful, reckless girl who went out and hired a killer, a monster like me, to murder a man who destroyed her family, too, has somehow become the only light in my dark existence.
I don’t know how to tell her I don’t care, that it’s too fucking late.
Richard is already dead; it’s just a matter of time. He’s the last one on my list because, despite changing my name, erasing my past, I want him to see me coming.
I want that bastard shitting his pants when I drag him to my chair.
But what kind of twisted shit would I be to tell this sweet girl that I’d rather chop him into pieces while he’s still alive and make him watch while I turn him into mincemeat, than ever send him to goddam prison.
Prison is too good for him.
And so here we are.
Nell is off, playing spy, and I’m falling so helplessly in love with her that I keep on letting her.
“When are you going to do it?”
She gnaws her lip. “I’m not telling you.”
“For Christ’s sake, why not?” When she says nothing, I add, “Because you know I’ll stop you.”
She gives me that look, the one that says I’m being ridiculous and over-protective.
“If you’re not here next week,” I say slowly, “I’m coming for you.”
“I’ll be here.” She leans forward and presses her lips to mine. “I promise.”
But that’s the problem….
Promises aren’t worth the paper they’re written on.
But I don’t say that. I just…grab her and kiss her again, harder this time, drowning myself in her because that’s all I can do. I couldn’t save my family, and now I feel like I’m failing her.
Then she’s pulling away, adjusting that ridiculous blonde wig over that untamed sienna mane of hers, buttoning up her coat properly.
At the door, she pauses and looks back. “When this is over. When your name is cleared and my…” She sucks in a breath. “…when Richard is in prison. I’ll tell you who I am. I promise. No more secrets.”
Before I can say anything about how much I hate promises, she’s gone, lost to the city at night.
I head out too. It’s time to visit Crazy Roy.
Nell is lying to me. I know it.
She doesn’t know that I’ve caught her out so many times. That I know Richard is someone to her, not just a man she wants dead. But every time I look for her, she’s a dead end, even with my resources and connections.
Nell doesn’t exist.
Which is why I wonder sometimes if I’m not dead already and this is my version of heaven.