NINE
Anthea
I slippedfrom my room the next morning with less confidence than usual. On the outside, I could be as cool and firm as diamond, but I wasn’t sure how my insides would react if I ran into Lucan.
Thankfully, I didn’t encounter any of the Rosano brothers on my way to the kitchen to scrounge up some breakfast. And my luck held even after. I was just leaving the kitchen when a gruff voice reached my ears from the direction of the front hall.
“Mick! About time you came back around.”
I slunk toward the hall quickly enough to make out the answer, though that voice was lower. “The boss has a job for me. I come when called.”
Maybe some resentment about his status as a lackey? I hadn’t picked up on any sourness in his nonchalant tone, but it was hard to say across this distance.
I eased toward the stairs, checking that no one was observing me. As Mick headed up, I caught a glimpse of him: shoulder-length hair that was black flecked with gray, a frame corded with lean sinewy muscle. He might have been getting on in his years, maybe halfway through his forties, but he didn’t look like any kind of weakling.
I dawdled for a few moments near the base of the stairs and then headed up with a distracted air as if I were simply wandering back to my bedroom. Mick would have disappeared in the opposite direction, into Marcel’s office.
What excuse did I have to head that way? There was a bathroom nearby. I veered toward it.
Out of view of the stairs, I edged toward the door to the office. No one was in the hall outside. If I heard someone heading this way—from within the room or the other end of the hall—I could dash into the bathroom and pretend I’d been in there the whole time.
The conversation had started while I was making my approach. It sounded like Marcel had already given Mick his marching orders. Mick was responding in a low voice. “I can definitely handle that. Should I be reporting to you or to Lucan?”
“Given the circumstances, I wanted to oversee this deal myself,” Marcel said. “I assume you’ll exercise more caution this time?”
Mick’s tone became terse. “I don’t believe there were any signs I could have missed the last time. Believe me, I’ve spent plenty of hours trying to think of how I could have saved any of those men from the Nobles’ bullets.”
So he was giving Marcel the same story everyone else had heard about our people turning on theirs—interesting. It seemed as though none of the Rosanos knew any differently. I’d thought it might be a conspiracy between just them and their trusted underling. What could his endgame be?
“We’ll have to approach all our supposed allies with more caution from here on, I suppose,” Marcel said with a sigh. “There was oncesomehonor among thieves. Well, no good mourning the old days. You’re clear on the details?”
“No questions here. Looks pretty standard. I’ll handle this without a hitch like I always did before that one disaster. You know I’ve never let the Hell Kickers down before.”
“I do. Let’s show we’re still just as much in business as we always were.”
I recognized the dismissal and darted to the bathroom. I had the door shut before the one to Marcel’s office even opened. Marcel strode by with firm strides like a man with a mission.
What was he up to now? Could I use this new job to confirm my suspicions? I had no idea what or where it was, though.
His footsteps faded away—and others rasped past me. There was a knock on the office door, and a brusque voice I recognized as Griffin’s. “It’s me.”
A very casual announcement for an average underling. But this guy hadn’t seemed to have an average level of access earlier either. I hesitated as Marcel called him in, and then snuck out to resume my listening.
“…sure Mick can handle it just fine,” Marcel was saying.
“It is his specialty, right?” Griffin chuckled. “You pick good people. I think I’ve gotten together a great team for our next moves.”
Next moves for what? My ears pricked.
“Excellent,” Marcel said. “I’ve confirmed the location. Those bastards are going to learn what happens when you try to screw over the Hell Kickers. The place on Orvil Street should make for a perfect start.” He paused. “I just wish…”
“You’re doing the right thing,” Griffin cut in before Marcel could finish his thought. “They haven’t given you anything. Cracking down hard, showing your strength—that’s why you’re the man I always want leading me.”
He was laying on the praise thick, but Marcel gave a pleased laugh, clearly eating it up. “And you’re proving yourself invaluable. I appreciate how well you’ve stepped up, Griffin. Maybe you should consult with Darius about—”
Griffin made a scoffing sound. “Oh, I already tried to talk to him about working together. He blew me off, too busy with his gambling rackets, I guess. Seems like that’s the only part of the empirehecares about.”
I frowned. It’d been obvious to me that Darius and his younger brothers wereveryprotective of their family legacy. That was half of the reason, maybe the whole reason, they were harassing me. Had Griffin even talked to the oldest Rosano brother, or was he making that up?