“And justhowam I behaving suspect?”
Reaper didn’t hold back. “You’re sneaking around like a rat.”
“Go hang.”
But Reaper didn’t. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d be thinking you’re a spy for our uncle, just like that little arse of a surprise brother, Deveraux.”
Ah, yes.
Deveraux Peregrine. Well, Deveraux Fury, now. Or perhaps he changed back to Peregrine again. Drake didn’t want to think about him. “Kindly find someone else to plague. I’m busy here.”
“So I see.”
Drake sighed.
“You know you’re the head of business now,frère.”
The hell he did. “Maxen didn’t step down.”
“He didn’t say it, but he’s busy with his little mouse and renovating the palace he bought for her. Plus, he’s set up office at his little mouse’s candle shop.”
Good for his brother, and, “It’s a house, not a palace.”
“It’s as big and grand as a palace.”
“Have you even been in a palace?”
Reaper shrugged. “That’s not the point.” He nodded at the man at Drake’s feet. “Who is he?”
Right, that reminded him. “Name,” Drake demanded.
“Rook,” the man choked out.
Reaper made a pleased noise. “A bird. How original.”
“Your real name,” Drake said.
The fellow’s eyes flickered, then flared with stubbornness. “Just Rook.”
Spare me from fools.
“Fine,” Drake said. “You work for me now, do you understand? That orRookceases to exist.”
Rook’s gaze slid to Reaper, then back to him. He inwardly scoffed. Drake might not be the broodiest of his brothers, nor the most verbal, like Reaper, but he was patient, and he did understand one thing: the upper hand. In the pits of St. Giles, he’d learned the economy of violence. Reveal only what breaks bone. It had been years since he’d fought for coin beneath London’s dripping rookery yards. Before Maxen found him. But old lessons never left the body. His scars were a testament to that.
“Work,” came the croak. “I’ll work.”
Drake retracted his leg, relief flooding the man’s face. “Good. What does this rich fellow look like? Keep in mind, I’ve no patience for vermin that bite the hand that gives them a second chance at life.”
“Don’t recall much except for red hair and a bunch of freckles.”
Before Drake could respond, his brother sighed bloody dramatically.
“If we’re to play this game of vagueness all night,” Reaper said, “someone bring me a chair and a tart. Preferably one with currants.”
Drake shot his brother a hard look. “Do you like your teeth?”
Reaper flashed them. “Very much.”
