Page 18 of Hexbound
Verity's gaze softened as she searched his. "Most men I know wouldn't bother to try."
"I'm not most men."
"I know." Verity looked away. "I also wanted you to know that you didn't force that kiss in the alley. I wanted it."
His breath exploded out of him. He'd needed that, he realized.
She seemed to understand, as she stood and fetched him a towel. "Well, now. I'd say we've got at least an hour of this left in us, and then we might be able to go see Murphy. Something about what Zach said makes me uneasy. I'll go see what they're saying on the streets. Give you some privacy." She shot a glance over her shoulder as she turned to go, taking in every inch of him with an unabashed interest. "Just in case youdowant to take care of that."
Bishop smashed the water with his fist in frustration, sending a surge of it in her direction. Verity vanished with a squeal and a laugh, leaving him alone in a bath of ice water.
Where, after some careful consideration, he did take care of "that."
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Chapter 4
"FOLLOW MY LEAD, keep your mouth shut, and for God's sake, don't reveal your sorcery," Verity warned, dragging a fistful of her black crepe skirts up the rickety staircase at the back of the Grey Goose Inn. "Let me do the talking. Colin Murphy isn't a man who cares for sorcerers or their ilk, and he particularly dislikes challenges to his authority. You're on his turf now, so don't forget it."
"As you wish," Bishop murmured.
At the top of the stairs, Verity turned to see if he was mocking her. Those warm brown eyes met hers and Bishop graced her with a faint smile. It transformed his face from not quite handsome to extraordinary.
And it quite stole her breath.
"Your move," he reminded her, with a twitch of his dark brows. "You're in charge."
Turning around, Verity knocked sharply on the door to Murphy's private rooms and then stepped inside as if she belonged. Which she did.
Only... Verity's head lifted, taking in the removal of Murphy's landscapes that he'd painted himself, and the lack of furniture. His books were all gone too and the room reeked of... some kind of smoky scent, rather than the Irish whisky that Murphy liked to drink. Only a desk remained, and a handful of people were gathered around it. Nobody in the streets had been willing to admit they knew anything, which made her nervous, and now this.
"Verity!" Mercy's voice was shocked as she saw them.
"Merce," she said, noticing the signs of damage to the walls and the smear of black that had scorched the curling wallpaper. "What happened here?" That was when the crowd stepped back from the desk and she realized who was sitting behind it. "Guthrie, what are you doing? Where's Murphy?"
Daniel Guthrie pushed his chair back, dark eyes flickering to Bishop at her side. "Thought you was dead."
"Almost," she admitted warily, for she and Daniel shared a turbulent history. And nobody should be sitting in Murphy's chair like that. The old man would have a fit. But... there was no sign of him. Only Conrad's looming dark hulk, Betsy Gibbons in her array of bright red ruffles and painted lips, and whip-thin Nigel Cremorne, who you never dared take your eyes off. All three of them Murphy's inner circle, but splayed around Guthrie as if....
As if leadership had changed.
"Murphy's dead, Verity," Mercy said, stepping away from Guthrie for the first time, her long lanky legs swathed in their usual trousers. "The attack happened the night you vanished, right here in this room."
The same day those... men... had tried to kill her. Mercy knew where she'd been and what she'd been up to, but Verity nodded vaguely, still reeling from the news. This was what Zach had meant. Murphy wasn't here to protect her anymore and Daniel... Daniel had his own grudges against her.
"Do we know who?" She didn't like the way Daniel was examining her, as if Verity were some bizarre object that he didn't recognize. "The Clover Lads? The Black Cats? They accosted me in an alley earlier. I thought they were bolder than usual."
Conrad and Nigel exchanged glances at that.
"What's going on?" she demanded.
"Perhaps you can explain?" Daniel rasped in his hoarse voice. Someone had tried to hang him once and failed. There was a cheroot sitting in the ashtray by his fingers, but he didn't move. Only watched her. "Heard you and Murph were workin' on some kind of job. Heard you bailed."
Mercy tried to shoot her a warning look from beneath the brown bowler's hat that covered her mousy hair. A smear of black kohl razored across her face, making her green eyes stand out in the shadows, but Verity rather thought she'd been crying recently, and that made her feel protective. At sixteen, the girl was several years younger than her, but they'd grown up together in the workhouse and when Murphy offered her the gig, she'd insisted upon Mercy coming too.
Madame Noir, and Murphy's Wraith. Thief and assassin. And allies.
"I didn't bail!" Verity spat. "They tried to break the terms of the deal. As soon as I delivered the goods, one of them stabbed me."
