Reaper arched a brow in that insufferably knowing way of his. “And just who is this woman?”
“You don’t need to concern yourself with that.” They’d hold it over his head forever. He could already hear the relentless, low-brow jests about how he was following in his brother’s footsteps and becoming hopelessly entangled with a tenant. He was not.
“See, the moment you say things like that,” Reaper drawled, “I begin to think I should very much concern myself with it.”
Drake shot him a look sharp enough to cut through steel. “Drop it.”
“Fine. But then answer this. How did she get the jump on you?You, of all people.”
Drake ground his teeth. “Do you want a crooked nose?”
Reaper grinned. “I can take the risk.”
Bloody hell.“Where is Deveraux?” Drake changed the subject before his brother could dig any deeper into the dangerously soft thought of Violet in his arms.
“Probably following the bird you let slip,” Reaper said with a shrug.
Damn it. How could he forget he had two loose cannons tonight, not one? Fortunately, that particular disaster did not come to be, because the wayward arse himself sauntered up to them at that moment, hands in pockets, posture relaxed as though he’d strolled in from a stroll along the beach.
“Did I miss the grand no-show?” Deveraux announced. “A shame. I do so love watching you brutes pound one another into paste.”
“Where the hell were you?” Drake growled, turning on him with the last of his temper still riding his bones.
“Keeping watch. Why?” He blinked innocently, cocking his head to the side. “Did something happen?”
Reaper scowled at the man, turning the torch light on Deveraux. “Why do I get the feeling you already know?”
“So suspicious,” Deveraux murmured, unconcerned. “Are you going to tell me what happened or not?”
Reaper snorted but still recounted, “A woman kicked him in the leg and escaped.”
Deveraux’s eyes lit with annoying interest. “A pretty one?”
Drake shot him a murderous stare, wishing he could just throttle the grin off his face. “Mind your tongue.”
“Consider it minded.”
“So what now? If the insult to his honor didn’t drag the Bulldog out tonight, I doubt anything else will.”
Drake’s mouth flattened. “Men like him don’t ignore a challenge forever.”
“Perhaps if you’d chosen meat and not a carrot to lure the bulldog,” Deveraux murmured. “We’d be having a different discussion now.”
“There are more ways to skin a cat,” he reminded.
“He’s a dog, though,” Deveraux countered.
Drake ignored the man. His mind was already running ahead through other possibilities, motives, risks.
Violet Sharpe.
Brave little blossom in the dark. Too small to be skulking about dens like this, too soft to be brushing up against men like him, and yet she’d planted her heel in his shin and slipped his hold like a seasoned cutpurse.
The last time anyone had gotten the unexpected upper hand on him had been the day Maxen had found him. He had believed the boy was looking for trouble, and had lashed out without thinking, feral and half-mad, striking first because that was how you survived. How you stayed alive. His brother, while not afighter by any means, had been damn strong, and too damn calm. Drake’s fury had counted against him. He’d learned a valuable lesson that day. And now, he learned one again.
Who the devil are you beneath all that sweetness, truly, little flame?
Chapter Four
