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“Sullivan?” Parrish blinked. “He’s Aldridge’s best friend. He’s sure as hell not goin’ to help us find him.”
“Not willingly. But with a bit of persuasion.”
“You want us to rough him up a little?”
“No, I want you to rough him up a lot. And not only with your fists. Use whatever tools you need. Make it messy, but not fatal. We need Sullivan alive. I want news to reach Aldridge that, just to discover his whereabouts, you thrashed his buddy within an inch of his life. As for Sullivan, I want him coherent and so terrified that, if he does know where Aldridge is, he’ll happily furnish us with the address. Or at the very least, he’ll wire Aldridge on his own and plead with him to reemerge.”
“What if Sullivan doesn’t know Aldridge’s hidin’ place?”
“Then we wait. It shouldn’t take long for Aldridge to get wind of Sullivan’s brutal beating. I expect he’ll be on the next rail home.”
“You think so?”
“I do indeed. Remember, Aldridge has just two weaknesses, his daughter and his old pal Sully. And since the little chit Nicole is tagging along with her father, Sullivan is our only remaining bait. Further, devotion aside, you know how honorable”—the word was a bitter sneer—“Aldridge is. If he won’t throw a race, he sure as hell won’t sacrifice his friend’s life to save his own neck.”
“You’re probably right.”
“I know I’m right.” Pensively, Coop regarded the tip of his blade. “Grab Sullivan at home, not the stables. That would be too risky, especially given how thorough a job you need to do and how much time it’ll take to do it right. You know where he lives.” His gaze shifted back to his henchmen. “Now get on it.”
Glancing at Archer, Parrish shifted uncomfortably, still holding the cloth to his neck. “Uh, Coop—I know you’re busy”—he wet his lips—“but you did say we’d get our money after we finished with Tyreham.”
“No,” Coop corrected, a paralyzing gleam reigniting his eyes. “I said you’d get a portion of your money after you finished with Tyreham. How much of it depended on how much information you unearthed—which, in this case, is nil. What’s more, I have a strong aversion to greed, especially when the bastards who display it haven’t done a thing to earn their keep.” His grip on the knife tightened until his knuckles were white. “And I have an even stronger aversion to being pressured.”
“C-Coop …” Sweat broke out on Parrish’s brow.“—we didn’t mean …”
“Don’t do it again.” Coop shoved his free hand into his pocket, extracting several five-pound notes. “Here.” He tossed the money at Parrish’s feet, waiting until the frightened thug had snatched it up. “Split that with Archer,” he commanded. “It’s all you’re going to see until you’ve finished this job. Now get the hell out. And don’t come back until Sullivan’s been taken care of and Aldridge is on his way home.”
“Okay, Coop.” Archer h
ad already begun backing off.
Parrish glanced at Archer, then at the meager amount he held. Hastily, he straightened, abandoning all thought of arguing the insufficient sum. “Thanks, Coop,” he muttered, inching away a hairbreadth behind Archer. “We’ll take care of everything.”
“You’d better. I react even more violently to being failed than I do to being pressured.” With callous deliberation, Coop stared down at his scarred forearm, kneading the disfigured skin. “Needless to say, so does our employer.”
Five
“PAPA, I’VE TAKEN CARE of everything.” Nicole glanced out the cottage window, noting that the sun was beginning to peek its head up over the horizon. “Why are you behaving like an ornery tiger?”
“Because I feel like one, that’s why.”
With an exaggerated sigh, Nicole tucked the final pin into her upswept hair, tugging at her cap to make certain it wouldn’t budge.
“Why not clamp your hair down with steel bands?” Nick muttered, glaring at her over the rim of his coffee cup. “You’ve already done that to your chest.”
Nicole bristled, unused to her father’s disapproval—or his explicit references to her figure. “I’m doing what I must.” She eyed herself critically, making certain the binding beneath her shirt was doing its job. Satisfied that her curves were totally concealed, she crossed the cottage’s small but cozy kitchen and poured herself some coffee. “What’s more, you knew what I intended when I responded to the marquis’s ad. Disguising myself as a boy was a crucial part of my plan. I wore this binding when I left for my interview yesterday, and you did no more than grumble. So why have you been ranting since I returned with the news that I’d gotten the position?”
“Because a few unexpected changes accompanied you back from Tyreham,” Nick retorted, slamming his cup to the table. “None of which I had time to consider during our flight from the inn. Hell, I scarcely had enough time to wire our new address to Sully. But I’ve had plenty of time to think since then. And I’m furious at myself for allowing you to push me into this insanity.”
“Papa, I thought you’d be pleased with this cottage. It’s more than adequate for our needs, and Lord Tyreham has generously offered it free of charge.”
“I’m not talking about the cottage and you know it. I’m talking about the reasons why we had to move here in such a blasted hurry. If you remember, your plan in trying to get this job was to buy us time—and wages—until I could resurface from this bloody seclusion I’m confined to. We agreed you would train in my stead to pretend to compete in the summer meetings. Pretend, Nickie. I made it plain that I refuse to allow you to actually enter those races. So what happened? Lord Tyreham was so impressed by my letter and your skills that he decided to speed up our schedule. To have you run the Derby. This year’s Derby, the one that’s taking place in three weeks. Needless to say, you were thrilled and agreed straightaway, without even consulting me. Like a tempest, you whirled us up, swept us off to Tyreham, and now intend to begin full-time training in”— he glanced at the clock—“a quarter hour. Well, dammit Nicole, I’m still your father. And I can still forbid it.”
“But you won’t,” Nicole replied softly. “Because you, better than anyone, know how much running the Derby means to me. Oh, Papa, it’s been my dream ever since you sat me on my very first horse. I can feel it, taste it, savor the sensations of crossing that line. It’s one race, Papa. How dangerous can it be?” She gave him an impish grin. “Besides, if I’m half as extraordinary as you claim, maybe I’ll win.”
“You are extraordinary. But you’re also a woman, whether or not you care for the idea. You’re also my daughter”—his voice faltered—“all I have left in the world. And I know you, perhaps better than you know yourself. You think running the Derby will satisfy your passion, but it’ll only feed it, make you want more. It’ll whet your appetite, sink into your blood like a heady dose of brandy. And, speaking of brandy, let’s not forget that you’ll be gallivanting about with a bunch of raucous jockeys who believe you’re one of them. You’ll also be prancing onto the racing scene at the precise time when those crooked bastards who threatened my life are avidly seeking a new target and in hot pursuit of their old one—me. According to what you told me last night, they’ve gone so far as to threaten Lord Tyreham—at his own home, no less—should he ever consider hiring me.”
“Papa,” Nicole squeezed his hand, “even if those animals happen to be at Epsom when I run, it won’t matter. They’ll never realize you and I are related, much less that I’m your daughter. They’ll never even suspect I’m a woman. As for their illegal offerings, should they approach me, I’ll make it clear from the start that I cannot be bought. And, as the Derby will be my one and only riding event”—she gave her father an I-promise-you look—“they won’t receive a second chance to twist my arm.”
