Page 47 of A Bride By Morning
Rafferty’s breathing became erratic. “No,” he said. “No, no, no, no. Not someone I can cross, mate. You don’t—”
“Oh, I comprehend perfectly. You’re aware of his reputation, and he’s paying you a lot of money. Not the sort of man you betray.”
Rafferty nodded eagerly. “That’s it. Can’t help you, mate.”
“No, you misunderstand me.” Gabriel leaned in and whispered, “Who the fuck do you think took his eye?”
The other man gaped at him, his body going utterly, utterly still. “I can’t,” the man whispered.
Gabriel twisted his dagger a slight degree. The man shouted, and Gabriel felt that animal part of him stir in response. It found satisfaction in violence. It had been Gabriel’s language for too long. He let himself sink further into the abyss of nothingness, that black place in his mind where he placed his memories of Moscow. Where his life as Alexei Borislov Zhelyabov would remain with him always.
“Remember what I told you about this blade,” he said to Rafferty. “Either this man is worth your hand, or you tell me where the fuck to find him.”
“I don’t—”
“He has people with him,” Wentworth interrupted. “They would be seeking either shelter or entertainment within the East End. Where would they go?”
They would not be found at the more upscale establishments like the Brimstone. Nicholas Thorne was not a man that even the Syndicate would cross—he commanded the territory of the East End, after all. But even those involved in the Syndicate had needs.
Rafferty wavered, but then Gabriel turned the knife ever so slightly, and he gave a cry. “Stop.Stop!There’s the underground fights. The location moves every time, but I’ve heard a few make bets.”
Wentworth and Gabriel exchanged glances. They had both heard of the underground fighting rings. Bareknuckle boxing was the lifeblood of certain families in the East End. Fighters made enough to keep their wives and children fed. It was the only way some people survived in the streets.
“When does the next fight take place?” Gabriel asked.
“Tomorrow,” Rafferty said. “In a warehouse by the docks. Ask if the doorman knows where you can find the butcher. He’ll take you down the stairs. I’ve heard the one-eyed man has men who fight there.”
Gabriel’s mind worked, fomenting a plan and deciding what he would need to do to keep Lydia safe. He would do anything.
Anything.
With a rough jerk, he pulled the knife out of Rafferty’s hand. The man’s shout rang in his ears. Panting, Rafferty held up his quivering, bloody hand that now held permanent evidence of how far Medvedev had pushed Gabriel. The stained carpet at their feet would need replacing.
Gabriel calmly removed a kerchief from his pocket and handed it to Rafferty. The other man swayed from blood loss, whimpering in pain as he accepted the fabric to wrap his wound. Gabriel took mercy on the old man and set a coin down on the prostitute’s nightstand. “For the doctor,” he said. “And if I find out you’ve told your associate about this meeting, I won’t be so merciful.”
The man shuddered.
Wentworth and Gabriel left the brothel. As they strolled down the street, Wentworth said, “That wasn’t necessary.”
“I got the answer out of him.”
“And I wouldn’t blame Rafferty if he told Medvedev about your questioning because you stabbed him in the hand, Monty.”
“I left him money for the doctor.”
“You still stabbed him in the fucking hand.”
Gabriel looked at Wentworth sharply. “And if Rafferty tells Medvedev anything, I’ll visit him in the night and slit his throat. I believe I made that abundantly clear back at the brothel.”
Wentworth loosed a breath, flicking up the collar of his overcoat. “I thought you never enjoyed killing.”
“I don’t,” Gabriel said. “But your offices never seemed to mind that when you gave me a target.”
He was like a blade, wasn’t he? He might be employed for other uses, but in the end, he was best utilized as a weapon. He had not grown blunt from disuse. He would do well to remember that when it came to Lydia, who tempted him to think he deserved something better.
Back in Moscow, the queen’s approval was the only difference between him and Medvedev.
“I’ll meet you tomorrow night before the fights,” he told Wentworth.
