Page 28 of Consume Me

“Leave that to me.” Smith’s eyes stayed on the road as he darted around bold tourists and slow cab drivers.

I appreciated his confidence, even if I didn’t share it. “If he was going to crack, he would have used it to get out of prison.”

“Face it, Alexander,” Smith muttered, narrowly missing a lorry. “He didn’t need the leverage. Whoever is behind this—truly behind this—got him out. He didn’t talk, because he didn’t have to talk.”

“Why would he talk now?” I muttered.

“I can be persuasive,” Smith promised darkly.

I had no doubt about that, but given my past with Jacobson there were other considerations. “I can’t exactly walk into his house and beat the shit out of him. No matter how much I might like to.”

“You aren’t the only one. Trust me. But there are more persuasive methods to break a man than physical violence.”

“But physical violence is the most satisfying,” I grumbled. Jacobson deserved it. He’d been an integral part of the plan that had ended in my father’s death. “He texted me, you know.”

“He did?” Smith sounded surprised.

I hadn’t shared this bit with anyone until now, and I wasn’t exactly sure why. There had been important matters to consider than a vague text. I’d just discovered my wife wasn’t at home. I’d just begun to panic.

My nightmare had only been beginning.

“The night she disappeared. It said ‘from within.’” My hands clenched into fists as I recalled the dawning horror of that moment.

Smith shot me a quizzical look. “From within? What does that mean?”

“He said it to me once. He told me that the way to destroy the royal family was from within.” I hadn’t known what he meant then, but Jacobson had been right. Ripping Clara from me meant I would do anything, give up anything, to get her back. I would break any law. I would hurt, torture, kill—whatever it took to bring her safely home.

If I had to I would burn this city to the ground.

“You think that means taking Clara?” Smith asked.

“What else could it mean?” I watched him for a moment aware of how carefully he arranged his features. But he couldn’t hide the darkness in his eyes. I knew that look. Something had sparked, turning the wheels in his mind, and whatever he was thinking, he wasn’t sure if he should share it.

“Maybe nothing,” Smith said.

“I don’t have a lot else to go on,” I admitted. Two days and nothing more than a bit of gossip from London’s most in-the-know gangster wasn’t getting us far. We had theories. Insane theories. But what I wanted was something tangible—something I could wrap my mind around.

“I need to talk to Georgia.” Smith was stalling, but why?

“Tell me,” I demanded.

Smith slowed the Bugatti as we came to a traffic light, but despite the stop, he didn’t turn to face me. “I understand wanting something to go on, but I need to speak with her. It was something she said.”

“I could order you to tell me,” I warned him. I would, too. Whatever tentative alliance we’d formed, however much I’d begun to respect Smith Price, I would do whatever I had to do to get answers.

Smith smirked, raising an eyebrow. “Order me?”

“I am the King.” I felt like a dick for playing that card, but it had to count for something.

“You aren’t my king. I’m Scottish. You’ll find my family’s roots in the Jacobite rebellion,” he informed me. There was a slight grin on his face as if he’d been granted a wish.

“Been waiting a long time to say that to me?” I asked.

“Nah, but I imagine my ancestors would be proud all the same.” The light turned and he continued into the exclusive neighbourhood where Oliver Jacobson, supposed man of the people, lived. “Look. I don’t want to turn this into a witch hunt. There’s following a lead and there’s causing trouble. We don’t have time for trouble.”

I couldn’t argue with him there. We were running out of time. Clara was due in a few weeks, but the truth was that the baby could come at any time. Not knowing where she was or what was happening to her was driving me crazy. But that wasn’t the most important thing. Clara’s job was to protect the baby and I knew she would. It was my job to look after her, protect her, support her—and she needed me more than ever. “I only hope Norris is with her.”

It was a vain hope. I couldn’t imagine anyone taking Norris alive, even if part of me wanted to because the alternative was too much to bear.