Page 17 of Healing the Highland Sinner
“Aye. Of course.”
“I mean it, Ellair. We’re goin’ tae be steppin’ intae a pit with some of the most dangerous vipers in all of Thurso. I cannae afford tae have ye drawin’ attention tae yerself or underminin’ me.”
“I hear ye. I get it.”
“Dae ye?”
“Aye. I dae.”
Rosalind stared at him for a moment longer then nodded. Without another word, she walked on, expecting Ellair to fall into step beside her. He did. They followed the twisting labyrinth of streets that made up Thurso’s harbor district, heading for a tavern hidden in plain sight among the shops that filled the area.
She was nervous about taking Ellair in with her. Not only because the men she was meeting didn’t know him, but because he’d proven that his tongue was as sharp as his blade. The man didn’t seem to know when to shut up. And the last thing she needed was for him to say the wrong thing to the wrong person and ignite a fight. She was going to be outnumbered. Yes, he’d bested five men on the docks, but those men were nothing compared to the snakes they were there to meet. They were as vicious as they were ruthless and one false step would end with a blade in her guts.
As they walked, she could feel Ellair staring at her. “What?” she snapped.
“If I’m nae tae speak or make meself known in any way, what exactly am I here tae dae?”
She scowled. “Ye’re here tae watch me back. If things go sideways, ye may need to step in. But that’s only if things go sideways.”
“And how will I ken if things are goin’ sideways?”
“Ye’ll ken,” she snapped. “And if they dae, ye need tae get me out. Understand?”
He nodded. “Aye. I understand.”
“I cannae stress how important this meetin’ is. And how important it is that naethin’ go wrong.” Her glare was as icy as her words.
They wound their way through the alleys and finally arrived at a plain wooden door set between a baker and potter’s shop. Rosalind looked up and down the alley and seeing nobody, rapped on the door once, then twice, then once more. The door creaked as it opened, revealing a large, imposing looking man who bristled with weapons. His eyes shifted to Ellair who stood behind her.
“He’s with me,” Rosalind said.
The man nodded and stepped aside, letting them by, then closed the door behind them. They walked down the short staircase that opened up into the common room of the tavern. Done up in red and black silks and velvet, the place always reminded Rosalind of the town’s most opulent and decadent brothels. The half-naked women dancing, giggling, and sitting on the laps of the men around the tables in common room did nothing to dispel that image.
She’d heard there was a hidden staircase somewhere in the tavern that led to a set of rooms where men, for a price, could take their pleasure with some of the hostesses. Rosalind had never availed herself of that service.
“Secret place, eh?” Ellair said.
“Very secret. And it’ll remain a secret or I’ll have yer tongue.”
He held his up to his chest, palms out. “Ye have me word.”
The interior of the Black Kraken, the secret tavern frequented by the leading figures in Thurso’s underworld as well as its most prominent merchants, was large but windowless, giving it the dimly lit, stuffy feeling of a subterranean cavern. Musicians played softly in the corner, the air was redolent with pipe smoke, thick as the whispered conversations that filled her ears.
The hushed voices tapered off when they walked further into the common room, which she was used to. As a woman, she was a novelty among the town’s crime lords. Those who knew of her, of course, since she tried to keep her sex hidden. Some accepted her. Some resented her. And many thought she was a figure ripe to be taken advantage of.
As a woman, most of the men in her line of business thought her weak but they knew whose work she had taken over and they’d feared her husband. This didn’t stop them from relentlessly scheming and plotting to bring her down.
She had proven herself to be capable and some didn’t take that very well. It was why she needed somebody to watch her back everywhere she went, a veritable army to protect her. The moment she let her guard slip was the moment she’d find a blade in her back. She spotted the men she was there to meet sitting at a table in the corner. She turned to Ellair.
“I’ll be over there,” she said. “Keep yer eyes open. And keep yer bleedin’ head down.”
He nodded.
As she made her way to the table though, she couldn’t help but notice the amount of attention Ellair was drawing. The wide, admiring eyes of most of the hostesses were already on him, as were the narrowed, suspicious gazes of the seedier figures. Rosalind gritted her teeth and stifled her sigh of irritation. She should have expected it. Ellair was a strikingly handsome man who was sure to draw eyes in any room he walked into.
She made it to the table and sat down across from a jowly, rotund man with dark hair that was liberally sprinkled with gray and eyes as dark as in his porcine face. He was so heavy; she was half-surprised the chair he sat in hadn’t collapsed beneath his girth. She despised the man and could barely disguise her look of distaste.
The table was filled with half-empty plates of food and he was chewing on a chicken leg, his eyes fixed on her. Grease glistened on his cheeks and chin and the smacking sounds he made as he ate turned her stomach. She fought to keep her gorge down. He dropped the gnawed-on leg onto his plate and wiped his hands on a cloth stained with grease and filth.
