Page 32 of Once Charmed, Twice Cursed
Weston raises his fists again, but otherwise, no one moves, the fight apparently at an impasse.
I take a quick inventory. The other man has a knife. We have Weston’s skill. And no luck to speak of, good or bad.
Which probably renders our chances an even fifty-fifty.
My mind spins, searching for ways to tip the balance. If that man gets near us with his blade, this could go catastrophically wrong, and I can’t allow that to happen. But we can’t let him leave, either. He’ll only return with reinforcements.
Then I land on an idea that sticks. One I can make work. I think.
I hope.
“You work for the duke?” I call over Weston’s shoulder.
The armed man narrows his eyes. He holds his knife loosely and with a disturbing degree of familiarity. “Wouldn’t be here, if we didn’t.”
I ignore the patent condescension in his tone. “Alverton’s paying you, then? How much?”
“Birdie?” Weston whispers from the side of his mouth. “What’re you doing?”
“Bribing them,” I whisper back.
The duke’s man scans me with hateful eyes. “Enough to make this worth it.”
“Nothing’s worth this,” the larger one interjects, hunched over his ruined arm.
I seize on that. “No, nothing is worth this, is it? Risking injury? Death? You’d be better off letting me top the duke’s price, because I can give you enough to last you months. You wouldn’t have to work for Alverton anymore. You wouldn’t have to work at all.”
The smaller man’s expression twitches, hardening into something I recognize, because I’ve seen that look on Brendan’s face plenty of times. Calculation.Hunger.
“How much are we talking?” he ventures.
“I have a hairbrush,” I say. “Inside. Sterling silver and gold. It’s worth a small fortune, just by itself.”
Skepticism passes over his face.
“And a brooch,” I hasten to add. “Rubies and diamonds.Lotsof diamonds.”
He makes a thoughtful sound. “Hmm.”
“You can have them. All you have to do is leave us alone. And make sure the duke doesn’t find out we’re here.”
Weston grumbles a protest, but I silence him with a tug on his shirt. I know he’d rather make these men pay the same way Theodore did—with pain and blood and suffering—but I can’t let him risk himself.
The lackeys exchange looks, weighing their options. They don’t have many. They can either fight and risk Weston’s wrath, or take my offer.
The smaller man spits on the ground. “Fine.”
My heartbeat catches. “You’ll do it?”
“For that price, I’d be stupid not to.”
“And you won’t tell anyone where we are? Or come back?”
His jaw works. “No. I swear it. But you’d better pay up.”
My attention slides to the man with the broken arm. “And you?”
He regards Weston for long moments, his eyes burning with resentment. I hold my breath.
