Page 38 of Devil in Her Details

She lifted her chin at Dagger. “No, it wouldn’t. Calvington will follow me back and keep sending men after you. No one will win. I won’t let him win.”

A soft sigh. “So damn stubborn.”

“Yes,” Lilly agreed. “Though, I’m not sure how we shall ever drive sense into that man’s thick skull without incurring even more of his wrath.”

“Let me worry about that.” The chaise slowed, and Dagger murmured, “We’re here.”

Lilly nodded, eager to meet these brothers and learn more about Dagger Fury. It was only fair that she armed herself with knowledge in kind. The irony, however, was not lost on her at all. She’d come to Brighton to escape men like Calvington. Yet now she had placed her safety—her freedom, her independence—into the hands of a man far more dangerous.

If she dared to trust Dagger Fury, she might finally be safe.

But if she trusted him too much . . .

She might never be free again.

*

Dagger led Lilly into Fury’s, the name of the very promise of the fire raging in his blood. He had broken men for less than what Calvington had done. Regrets were a damnable thing. Some lasted a moment. Some lasted a lifetime. This regret, the regret of not snapping the man’s feeble fish hands, would last until satisfaction was had. Otherwise, his regret might very well last a lifetime, and he had no intention of allowing that much space in his veins.

But the real danger here was not the marquess.

It was the woman following him inside. Lilly. Protecting her meant stepping into a world that had destroyed his mother. Destroyed him, in a way. In fact, it was a world that had destroyed almost all of his brothers in some form. And Dagger had not survived this long by making the same mistake twice. The problem, he was quickly discovering, was that knowing better and acting accordingly were two entirely different things where she was concerned.

“This is also your establishment?”

“And my brothers’. We own everything together.” He nodded at Knight, who occupied his usual spot. “This is Lilly.”

“Knight,” his brother greeted. “One of the brothers.”

Lilly stepped up beside Dagger and gave a little wave. “Lilly Trenton.” She glanced at him. “You said there were six, didn’t you?”

“Seven if you count the traitor, but yes, six.” He directed to Knight, “Anyone else here?”

“Only Saint.”

Dagger nodded and led her to the nearest table, pulling out a chair for her. “Do you want anything to drink or eat?”

She shook her head. “I don’t think I can stomach anything at the moment.”

Dagger hesitated. She still looked too pale for his liking. Far too pale. “Have something for the shock.” He motioned to Knight. “Whisky.”

Knight indicated his agreement.

“I’m over the worst of the shock,” she said, but didn’t otherwise protest, which told him just how shaken she still was.

Dagger dragged out a chair and joined her. “You only think you are. Trust me, a bit of liquor will help with hidden nerves.”

“Hidden nerves? I don’t believe I’ve heard that term before.”

“I’m not good with words.” Never had been. He also couldn’t write well, his handwriting atrocious. With a quill in his hand, he could be considered to have two left paws. He couldn’t even read certain words, which frustrated the hell out of him, so he’d never developed a love for books. Lilly probably flourished in all these things. Even in the wan daylight seeping through the windows, she looked so bright and so out of place in their humble tavern.

“Why do you need to be good with words when you get your point across?”

Hah. “In my line of work, bluntness is necessary.”

“Speaking of lines of work,” her eyes met his. “What do you do? And don’t tell me you’re harmless innkeepers or tavern owners. I saw enough of you fighting those three men off that I won’t believe you.”

Knight brought them each a glass of liquor and took a seat himself. The little lynx glanced between him and his brother but appeared to decide against remarking upon his brother’s silent arrival. He could have kissed her for that alone. An inward snort immediately followed that thought.