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3
Polly
“Jude’s no checked in, majesty,” my self-appointed secretary Prog said with a deep frown. “Ain’t heard from Miss Beatrice neither. And she’s not the type to not write to say she arrived safe.”
“Say that again?” I put my glass of canary down. I was sharing a late supper with my most trusted lieutenants in Rules’ private parlour in the Covent Garden. Prog had just barged in and launched into his speech.
“Youse heard me well enough the first time,” he said. It wasn’t insubordination. Not the way he held my eyes steady.
“Go,” Peaseblossom, my right hand, urged me. She had just finished regaling us with a story about an alpha with a diamond earring and pocket watch and, though not deep in our cups, howled with laughter at the farce. “We’ll loose the birds.”
“No need to overreact. Only just gone eleven. No doubt my sister and her mates are enjoying their reunion.” I didn’t say I expected Jude was fuming that I had not come out to bid him a safe journey. Whenever I stayed at Omega House and barred him from my bed, for inviting him in seemed too intimate, he snarled and pouted in turns. “Jude, no doubt, has found a tankard of ale.”
“Majesty, they’d have sent word. No harm in checking.” Or words to that effect came from several corners of the room. The root of my operation’s success lay in the fact I trusted my people to do their work and push me around if necessary. I could argue but there was no harm in going. No harm either in learning how the whole endeavour had played out.
“Fine. I go to Curzon Street to see if Beatrice has arrived safely. I want eyes and ears on the Hell. Get in touch with Sarah. Peaseblossom, will you go to Omega House for me?” She stood without a word and hurried from the room. She was a complicated one who’d given up a life of luxury to fight for our cause after her omega brother had been left for dead by his so-called mate. Now she stood by my side and picked out our marks.
“I’ll go with you,” Prog offered as the table broke up. I nodded. He was the best because of his steady temperament. If I needed to be restrained, Prog was the beta to do it.
We walked the twenty odd minutes to my brothers-in-law house that we might keep our eyes open for any suspicious goings on. Sometimes it really was better to be on foot than in the confines of a carriage.
My brother-in-law’sslim house was unusually bright. Servants peering out the ground floor windows. And on the first floor, my sister’s mates silhouettes prowled. Without the sound of a carriage we were able to come upon the butler unawares and make our way up the stairs without alarming the household—aided by the circumstance that the maid in the hall was my own person. As we passed her on the landing she shook her head, her lips pressed together until they disappeared. Prog muttered angrily under his breath about the poor security and I cataloged the improvements I would ensure were carried out before the end of the night.
I pushed into the drawing room without announcing myself, but neither alpha seemed surprised to see me. Lord Paxton was Beatrice’s wealthy and aristocratic mate. All silver from his hair to his eyes and suit. Colonel Jack Fordom stood at the window. A dark, angry alpha who enjoyed using his fists to end arguments. I had no quarrel with them but they represented all the proof I needed that no omega was safe just because they had an alpha. Wealth and strength did not guarantee anyone’s safety, no matter what society would have us believe.
“Jude not returned?” I asked frustration lacing my words. Fruitless since it was hardly their fault. “Bea not here?”
“He’s your man. You entrusted our mate—”
“Not any longer. If he’s the cause of her not being here,” I fumed. Paxton’s insinuation made my stomach roll. Oh goddess, I’d never thought Jude of all people might betray me. Not my Jude, I prayed. Then anger at even entertaining the thought he might be a villain in this story. “I’d be grateful if you forgive... I should have brought her home myself.”
“We’ll go to Drexler,” Paxton said. “He promised to help in case Beatrice did not return to us safely. It was his man who lost Stimpson. And Sarah is missing.”
My head spun at his news. “Not Sarah! Why is she tied up with all this? Tell me. What deal did you make with him? What deal did you make with Drexler? The exact words.”
“The words? Goddess, what do the exact words matter?” Jack growled.
“There would be a prize fight between Jack and Puck. Stimpson would be there—Drexler seemed to believe Stimpson could be lured out with the promise of the purse being on site. Stimpson was captured. We were interrogating him. He would be transported somewhere more secure so that the body could more easily be disposed of.”
I rubbed my temples at their foolishness for believing Oberon or Puck would act with anything but self interest.
“Stimpson owes Drexler a huge sum of money. Gambling.” Jack interrupted. “He has no reason—”
“Debts can be paid in other ways.” I paced in front of the cold hearth. “Fools for trusting him!”
“Your ignorance of the affair confuses me, Polly. Explain why we must repeat what you surely know,” Jack commanded. “Jude was there. He caught Stimpson.”
I felt dread like a physical thing. “Impossible. He didn’t tell me. He wouldn’t work with Drexler. He wouldn’t.”
“I saw him with my own eyes, my girl.” Jack’s anger manifested in the fists he barely kept by his side.
“He was there? No. Jude must have his reasons for not being here with her. Who could have got past one of my people if not Drexler? Who could…” Each thought I voiced was wilder, more improbable than the next. I dragged in a breath and released it in a sad attempt to calm my racing heart. Where was my curse when I needed that supernatural quiet? With clarity brought an incontrovertible fact. “Mark my words, Stimpson shall try and extort monies from you. And on your own head be it if you pay. Drexler! He is the one to get you out of this. Fools. Dammit. Alpha fools,” I let my bark creep in, knowing it would rile them.
Jack lunged for me. A bitter smile tugged at my lips. I should never have agreed to let alphas arrange this business.
“You are friends,” Paxton intervened. “Drexler and Stimpson. Focus your anger there.”
In the next breath, a panting beta dressed as a valet stood on the threshold, holding out a letter, his face grim.
