AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Then you need to find him and find out the truth behind the lies.”
“But I don’t even know where he was off to—London was mentioned—but I don’t know how to find him.”
“Someone must know.”
She nodded, her gaze going out to the sea. “You are right.” Someone did know. She just needed to enlist some help.
“Good lass.” Lord Kallen stuck the tip of his cane deep into the gravel and pushed himself upright. Two steps toward his horse, he turned back to her, the stoop in his shoulder’s more evident than ever at this angle. “When you find the rogue, set a nice solid fist square across his jaw from me.”
She blurted out a chuckle. “Lord Kallen—”
“The man deserves it. Leaving you like this. He’s just lucky I’ve grown such sentimentality and showed up when I did.”
Elle stood, new strength in her legs. “I’ll be sure to convey that to him when I see him next.”
{ Chapter 22 }
At the top of the stairwell, Rune looked to Hoppler as he stepped into the shadowed hallway of the third level of the Den of Diablo.
His patience with the gaming hell was on its last threads. A week he’d been there, waiting, moving among every manner of ignominy in the rookeries, when all he wanted was to be back on the island and bury his head into Elle’s neck. Hold her.
The only thing he wanted more than that was to keep her safe.
And that was going to happen in the next ten minutes this night, one way or another.
“It’s neutral ground, the best I could do,” Hoppler said, his hand rubbing along the back of his neck. “But he brought some interference with him—probably what took him so long to get here, hiring that sorry lot about him. Can’t blame him though, coming to this part of town, especially at night.”
Rune’s head tilted forward, his stare going to Hoppler. “How many?”
“Two thugs inside with him. Two more are downstairs. There might be a third and a fourth planted in the main room below that aren’t obvious. But they shouldn’t affect you up here.” Hoppler shook his head, apologetic. “I couldn’t control what he brought with him without suspicion.”
Rune nodded. “I know.”
“He’s yours, if you can get to him. Finish it. But for how this could turn out, I can’t be a part of it.”
Rune nodded. He knew full well why Hoppler had to remain neutral in case this went poorly.
“Luck for you.” Hoppler clamped his hand onto Rune’s forearm.
Rune returned the clamp. “Luck is for the weak.” Rune smiled, the familiar exchange still easy off his tongue even though it’d been ten years since he spoke it.
“And we ain’t weak.” Hoppler smiled, releasing Rune and patting his back. “Prove it.”
Rune inclined his head and stalked down the corridor, his hands checking one last time the two pistols and three blades concealed under his coat and along his boots.
He paused, staring at the yellow peeling paint on the door to the private hazard room. Everything he’d lived for in the last thirteen years on the other side of the door.
One breath to steel his spine and Rune pushed the door open, walking into the room with his hands up. Smart move, for two pistols were trained on him—one attached to a brute on the far left of the room and the other attached to an even bigger brute on the far right of the room.
There.
Standing in between two more thugs in front of the oblong hazard table.
Lord Gatlong.
Same jowls that took up half his face. Same patchy tendrils of hair, now grey, slicked over a mostly bald head. Same wide belly that slid from his chest. Same soulless ice blue eyes.
The only difference in his appearance was the steel pick that jutted out of the end of his right sleeve. A replacement for his severed right hand.
