Page 30 of Summoner of Sins

He reached for her hand, pulling it toward him, and placed the bag in her palm.

Then, he let go, and reached into another pocket, pulling out a sheet of paper.

“It’s the deed to my townhouse,” he said, holding her gaze. “Sell it or live in it.”

Her mouth hung open. This was…it was…she just… “Max?”

“I will be back. We’ll talk then.” With a kiss on her forehead, he was out the door.

She stood there, overwhelmed with emotion. Fear, gratitude, and love vied in her chest as she stared down at the gifts he’d bestowed upon her.

“Please come back,” she whispered into the empty room. She sank to her knees to pray.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

The sun had nearly left the sky when Max and Ironheart arrived at the address Cranston had given him. Though the place looked deserted, Max had the carriage take them to the end of the lane before he and Ironheart exited and doubled back.

“What are we doing here exactly?” Ironheart asked as Max tested one of the side doors. It was locked tight.

“Looking for clues,” he said, climbing up onto a crate to look into a window.

“What sort of clues?” Ironheart climbed up too, despite his incredulous tone.

Max didn’t dignify the question with an answer. As he peered at the multitude of goods that filled the enormous space, a weight settled in the pit of his stomach. Whitehouse had resources beyond his wildest imagination. Hundreds if not thousands of wooden crates filled the space, but just as much sat loose, stacked in neat piles and rows. What would he find in those boxes?

Just as he thought he might try to sneak in once again, he heard a noise at the front of the warehouse. The large doors at the front opened, flooding the space with the light of the setting sun. Four men went about the room lighting candles, as man upon man filed in, carrying more goods and boxes.

“Christ,” Ironheart muttered. “He’s got more assets than the queen.”

Max made note of that comment. These men were loading in the twilight when the docks had quieted because they were operating outside the law. He was certain of that, which was a point that might work in their favor. Then again, with this amount of money, almost anything was possible, and laws were frequently overlooked.

The sheer volume of men who came in and out of the massive space overwhelmed Max. Were there fifty of them? Seventy? More than he could ever fight. He’d been able to take Sophie because he’d used the element of surprise, but he’d be unlikely to use that element again.

He zeroed in on one, his muscles turning to granite. It was Plimpton. “How is he out of prison already?”

“Fuck,” Ironheart said under his breath. “Think he broke out?”

“Of the Tower? In a day?”

“Do you see Whitehouse?”

“No,” Max shook his head. “You?”

“No.” Ironheart cursed again. “I can go to the queen, and take his goods, but it would be better if I could say I’d seen him here.”

“Even that isn’t a guarantee if he offers her enough money.”

Max was still impressed that Ironheart had that kind of moral compass in which he didn’t want to lie. Over the last several days, Ironheart had hardly had anything to drink, and he’d been a good leader and friend. Max liked this side of Ironheart much better. However, this was one moment he might be willing to lie. Whitehouse deserved prison.

They stayed for another hour until all the goods had been loaded in and most of the men had filtered out. Sliding off the crate, Max crept along the side of the building to try and listen to their conversation as they parted. Peeking around the edge, he was just in time to hear Plimpton say to the three men who stood with him. “Night after tomorrow. That’s when deliveries will go out. Don’t be late.”

Max ducked behind the building. If they were going to catch Whitehouse, two nights from now might be their chance. Then again, he might be in this far too deeply. His next visit would help him decide. Slipping through the alleys, he made his way back to his carriage, Ironheart was right behind him. They didn’t speak until they were in the carriage.

“What are you thinking?”

“That we need to speak to Plimpton’s arresting constable. How is he out of prison already?”

“Good question.” Ironheart nodded. “Did Cranston give you any other good bits?”

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