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“Smuggling operations, mostly. The East India Company has a lockdown on legitimate trade with their bastardly relationship with the crown, so we service the cracks. The needs that need to be met outside of their jurisdiction. There are a lot of ships with a lot of cargo that need to make it from one country to the next. We supply the delivery path for that to happen.”
“You act so magnanimous about it—when really you’re skirting outside the law.”
He shrugged. “Needs will always be met outside of the laws. Any law benefits one class of people more than the other. There’s nothing new about that.”
She shook her head. “Whatever you have to tell yourself.” She paused, staring at him. “It is dangerous work, isn’t it?”
“It is.”
“Is it killing work?”
“It can be.” Maiming and beating, usually, but she probably didn’t want to hear about that portion of his life either.
Her stare penetrating, her bottom lip slipped inward and he could see her working the flesh between her teeth. “Is that why you are so cold?”
“I am cold?” His head tilted to the side, trying to figure her.
“I am heat personified in everything I do, so yes, I can say that you are cold—or at least that is the image you portray.” She paused, her head shaking to herself. “No, I take that back. You aren’t all cold. Sometimes when you look at me, all that ice melts away and I feel like I am being swallowed by the sun. It is odd, for I always thought there was no one mired in more heat than me.”
He swallowed, shifting on his seat, her words making his cock jump. The bed was only three feet away, but no. Food first. He needed her to have as much strength in her bones as possible for what was to come.
He pointed to her plate. “Eat.”
“You have killed a lot of men, haven’t you?”
He stared at her, his jaw ticking. “You eat, and I’ll answer your question.”
With a frown, she picked up her fork and stabbed another bite of the pie. She chewed, swallowed, took one more bite, and then set her fork down, her eyebrows raised as she looked at him.
He didn’t shy away from her stare. “I have.”
“Is that why you sleep upright?”
“I what?”
“On the journey to Seahorn, you slept multiple times with your back against a wall. I don’t know how you do that, sleeping upright like that. It must be practiced.”
Damn, she knew how to ask questions that struck to the most uncomfortable places.
He grabbed his wine glass and took a long sip of the claret. At least the quality of the drink made up for the inferior food. Probably from one of his smuggled shipments from France—he did take quality seriously in his business.
He set the glass back down onto the table, watching the deep burgundy liquid slosh back and forth until it settled. “My father was a dangerous man. And once I joined him, I learned that it would always be a chaotic, dangerous life to lead.”
“And?”
“We were always on the move, always with wronged people, or being hunted by the governments looking to wipe us from the earth. So I had to learn how to sleep anywhere, but to always be aware. Sitting upright as I sleep ensures I never drift too far into darkness.”
“Do you ever sleep flat on a bed?”
“Rarely. My body doesn’t work like that anymore. The few times in the last years where I have lain down to sleep, I’ve slept for fourteen hours straight. One time eighteen hours. One time thirteen, but that slumber was interrupted by a knife coming down into my shoulder, missing my heart by inches. That was a nice reminder that peaceful slumbers and I were never going to be acquaintances.”
Her jaw dropped.
“I said I would keep you safe from everyone, Vic, and I meant it. I don’t rest. I don’t get jumped. I am always on.”
Her head shook as her mouth pulled into a tight line. “Isn’t that exhausting?”
His teeth clamped tightly together. Exhausting? Yes. But it was what it was. It always had been.
