Page 36 of Destiny Redeemed
Chapter 9
I sat in the dingy corner of the Meadows Inn, my legs spread in what I hoped was a convincing imitation of masculine nonchalance. The air reeked of stale ale and unwashed bodies, making my nose wrinkle in disgust. Somehow it was even worse than when I lived in exile. My eyes kept darting to Gareth, that idiot, as he gleefully tossed coins onto the grimy table. Each clink of metal on wood sent a spike of fury through me.
“I ought to go over there and knock some sense into his thick skull,” I muttered, my hands clenching into fists.
Tommy’s small hand on my arm stopped me. “Easy there, m’lord. Remember why we’re ‘ere. You can deal with ‘im later.”
I took a deep breath, forcing myself to relax. The boy was right, of course. I had more pressing matters to attend to than Gareth’s stupidity. “Fine. Remind me again about this Red Cross gang and their mysterious leader.”
Tommy’s eyes lit up, clearly excited to show off his knowledge. “Well, m’lord, most folks ain’t even seen the leader. He goes by the name Red.”
I snorted. “How creative.”
“They say he’s real clever though,” Tommy continued, unfazed by my sarcasm. “The gang members all ‘ave this tattoo– red arrows crossin’ inside a circle. That’s how you kno’ they’re Red Cross.”
I nodded, absently munching on stale peanuts as I scanned the room. Tommy pointed out a burly man near the bar, the telltale tattoo visible on his forearm. As I squinted to get a better look, a nagging sense of familiarity tugged at my mind. Where had I seen that symbol before?
My musings were interrupted by the approach of a barmaid. “Can I get you gentlemen anything?”
I looked up, ready to decline, when my heart nearly stopped. It was the same woman I’d saved from Gareth’s assault. Panic flooded through me as I scrambled to deepen my voice.
“No, we’re fine,” I growled, trying to sound as gruff and manly as possible.
The barmaid nodded with a smile and moved on. I let out a shaky breath, relief washing over me. That had been too close.
“You alright ther’, m’lord?” Tommy whispered. “You look like ye’ve seen a ghost.”
I waved him off, trying to regain my composure. “I’m fine. Just… thought I recognized her for a moment.”
As I settled back into my seat, my eyes drifted once more to the Red Cross member’s tattoo. The nagging feeling intensified. Why did that symbol seem so familiar?
As I pondered, a hulking brute of a man lumbered over to our table, his meaty hands splayed on the sticky wood.
“Boss wants to see ya,” he grunted.
I arched an eyebrow, trying to mask my surprise. “Oh? And who might your boss be?”
I hope it’s this Red Tommy was talking about.
The man’s face twisted into what I assumed was meant to be a smirk. “You’ll find out soon enough. Now move.”
Tommy looked at me and gave me a reassuring nod. This was exactly what I wanted, wasn’t it? A chance to get closer to theheart of this operation. As we followed our less-than-charming escort through a hidden door behind the bar, I couldn’t help but memorize the path. A sideways glance told me that Tommy was doing the same.
The passage beyond was dark and damp, the walls close enough to brush my shoulders. The smell of mold and decay assaulted my nostrils, making me wish I’d brought a handkerchief. Not that I owned any these days.
“Lovely accommodations,” I muttered. “Do you charge extra for the ambiance?”
Our guide didn’t respond, but I swore I saw Tommy stifle a giggle.
We emerged into a well-lit room that seemed way bigger than anyone would expect. I assumed we were underground. The space was teeming with scary, big, and muscular men— some sharpening their weapons, some practicing their swords, and some practically beating up other men — but one thing stood out: that they were very organized. They couldn’t be a small gang. I was more certain than ever that they were behind the gold smuggling.
When Anderic told me about the smuggling being connected, my first thought went to the Red Cross and how they conveniently placed more than a million gold bars in Magnus’ furniture instead of the five hundred my father gave. It didn’t make sense for a mere gang to have that much. I thought someone else might have given those gold bars to them but if the Red Cross themselves were doing the smuggling… No, it still didn’t make sense. They couldn’t do all this without some powerful backing.
They must be working with someone. I had solved half the puzzle.
He moved us into a smaller, less than stellar room, which seemed to serve as some sort of makeshift office. Crates werestacked haphazardly against the walls, and a rickety desk dominated the center. The man sat behind it.
I eyed the Red Cross member across the rickety desk, keeping my expression neutral despite the nerves fluttering in my stomach. The room smelled of damp wood and cheap whiskey, making me long for a breath of fresh air.
