Chapter Two

C hapter T wo

I t was always unnerving when an operative failed to call upon their training, but this was something Hunter Mortimer had never seen in all his years of spy craft.

It was like Briar had never done this before, and if he'd understood right, she'd been working in the field almost as long as him.

One would never know it at the moment, which was one of the reasons why he was stepping in before the blokes could move her very far. It was entirely possible she would lash out with beautiful blows in a moment, but he wasn't willing to risk what he was witnessing.

The one holding Briar off of the ground looked startled at Hunter's words, while the scrawny one who seemed to have the biggest mouth was immediately charging toward him.

Hunter sighed, shaking his head. It was so unnecessary, this. But if he insisted, Hunter would engage.

One swift punch to the face and an elbow to the ear, and the little one was down.

Smiling as though to a wayward child, Hunter looked at the other one. "Put her down, please. It would not be good if you dropped her when I fell you."

"Who are you?" he demanded as he set Briar down almost gingerly. "The Gent?"

Hunter barked a loud laugh. "No, my good fellow, but I will give him your regards if I see him in the next few days. And I think it will be better for us both if introductions are avoided. Now, would you like to attack first, or…?"

The answer came as the man barreled toward him in some weak attempt to startle Hunter into forgetting how to defend himself. Instead, Hunter stepped slightly to the side at the last moment and slid his hands into the collar of his attacker as he reached him, gripping hard and forcibly flinging the man away using his own momentum. It was a most satisfying grunt of discomfort and dismay as the fellow landed against the nearby building, and Hunter strolled after him, fighting back the temptation to whistle a particularly jaunty tune as he did so.

He watched the man push to his feet and waited for the bloke to come at him again. He was rather beefy, but he did not look particularly bumbling as he exhaled harshly. "Look, I was only told to snatch the girl and take her to a meeting point. I don't want all the trouble; I don't even know what she's for. So if you'll just club me on the side of the head, I'll drop here until I come to and report the attack to my employer. No more harm done."

Hunter grinned at the suggestion. "A wise choice, my friend. Have you a club you wish me to use?"

There was an eager nod as a club was produced from his waistband, then handed over to him. The man went to his knees and removed his cap, nodding once. "Whenever you're ready."

There was nothing to do but chuckle at the ridiculousness of this situation. "I do hope you will remember that you asked for this, mate."

Before any retort could be made, Hunter struck the club against the man's head, knocking him to the ground. He didn't move once he was down, and Hunter checked that there was still regular breathing taking place before dropping the club beside the now unconscious figure.

He turned to face Briar, who hadn't moved from where she had been dropped. She was dressed in a finer manner than was called for under the circumstances, but he would not pretend to understand the intricacies of feminine dress and did his best not to judge.

He gestured towards the street. "Shall we away?"

"How did you do that?" she demanded, her face shadowed by her bonnet and the relative lack of light in the street.

Hunter gave her a bewildered look. "Do what?"

He couldn't see her face, but he imagined a slow blink. "Knock them out so spectacularly."

"Basic fighting tactics," he told her, doing his best not to sound utterly patronizing. He needed her help, so it would not do to offend her.

Though, if she was this clueless, he couldn't see how much help she would be.

"I am quite certain that was more than the basics," she retorted in a remarkably crisp tone for someone apparently skilled for blending in anywhere. "They never stood a chance, did they?"

"Not really, no," Hunter said with more bluntness than he might have done otherwise. He folded his arms and tried to give her a more thorough look. "Why didn't you get out of that? I know the training regimen, and I know you can get out of worse without breaking a sweat."

The woman actually reared back. "I beg your pardon? Why would I know how to get out of that? It is rather rude to criticize a young lady for not knowing how to avoid abduction, and entirely unfair to presume that I should know how to free myself from capture. What sort of a hero are you, anyway?"

She was rambling, and he hadn't expected that from an experienced operative. The pace of her words was picking up, as was the pitch, and she was speaking absolute nonsense. But there wasn't time to go into all of that, and this was certainly not the place.

"Not a very good one," Hunter admitted. "Come on, we cannot stay here."

Her feet inched towards him but didn't move far at all. "Can I trust you?"

This was getting tiresome, and he only had so much patience. "Considering I literally just knocked two blokes unconscious so you could avoid being snatched, I think you might be safer with me than otherwise."

That seemed to convince her, and she stepped down into the street, now coming towards him. Hunter shook his head and turned to start walking towards the next street, venturing farther into the neighborhood and closer to where their headquarters would be.

Honestly, setting up the mission was supposed to be the easy part. He hadn't been handed this assignment for nothing; one of the largest interdepartmental operations ever mounted had taken place only weeks ago because of the information uncovered in its development. He'd actually been part of it, which was rare enough, given his deep cover, but the finer details of the original assignment…

Those were now his. The investigation into a man who was housing a traitor, the attempt to locate that particular traitor and, if he could manage it, get some kind of a lead on what exactly was going on down here. He didn't like something like this developing under his very nose, but he'd had quite enough to be getting on with from his usual crowd and the information they unwittingly gave him.

He still hadn't figured out how the coves around the Convent had been pegged as useful by the Faction, given the sheer volume of accessible coastline in all of England. It could not be a coincidence, but he couldn't ask too many questions on the subject either. Repeating topics tended to get noticed, and he had to make a habit of being unnoticed. It was how he managed to get anything done down in this world of his.

Working alone had its own challenges, but he had done well without a partner. Better, in fact, as it allowed him to act independently and lowered the risk of betrayal or compromise. He could act on instinct, change his plans on a whim, push the envelope as far as he dared, and compromise his morals and integrity left and right without guilt or shame. It had served him very, very well over the last five years.

Hunter Mortimer was a rascal, a rake, a cheat, and a flagrant sinner, which was why he had disappeared from good society and exiled himself to Europe.

So they said.

The cover of a shamed profligate was rather perfect when a deep-seated operative was needed quickly after the London League operative known as Trace had been killed. It hadn't been the League's favorite decision ever that the underbelly of London was to be taken from them, but it was the best decision for all departments.

Now Trace was, amusingly, not dead, so they were both down here, working independently and staying out of each other's way.

Mostly.

But in order for Hunter, working as Trick, to get a decent start on his new assignment, handed over by Mist and his partner/wife Mirrors, he needed to know what Briar knew, as the leading Convent asset working both sides of the Thames. No one came in or out via the waterways of London without her knowing, and her team of barely loyal bottom dwellers could be vital to his work. The shipment of new operatives—as well as arms—weeks before was unnerving, but others had their assignments there.

Hunter wanted to know how it even got to that point.

There had been an attempt at mass assassination earlier in the year, which was when Blaine had first appeared on their radar. Before then, Blaine had simply been the name most people of the streets knew to avoid, but he had seemed to be a heartless curmudgeon and no more. Now he was housing traitors, meeting with the enemy, and actively working to undermine Britain.

Hunter wanted to know how he and everyone else missed the signs.

The League was an utter mess these days. Trace had been given bad information after years of flawless work. Cap had been compromised. Rook had been compromised. Their assistant was the traitor, for heaven's sake. Their families were being hidden in country houses outside of London for everyone's security. No one knew why or how or if, in many respects, and nobody liked unknowns.

Nobody.

There were bits and pieces to everything that had been taking place recently, and Hunter was collecting them all and assembling the lot.

It was what he did best.

Well, one of the things, anyway.

His instincts were never wrong, and there was something absolutely off about Briar.

He slowed his step, letting that sink in. Something was off, if Briar was who he had heard she was. Briar wouldn't be caught by anyone, let alone someone who was actively sought out by people who didn't know her. And if she had caught wind of being sought out, she would have disappeared. With her network, with each of the networks housed in these parts of London, someone would have known, and she would be gone.

Which meant…

Damn it. He should have seen it sooner. The dress, the accent, the situation…

He rounded another corner quickly and grabbed the faux Briar's arm, forcing her against the wall and covering her mouth so she wouldn't scream. "I am not going to hurt you," he told her immediately, her eyes widening at the sudden change in situation. "Understand?"

She nodded quickly, her impossibly dark eyes fairly distracting this close, particularly when there was minimal light to reflect in them.

She was pretty. He didn't need light to tell him that.

Didn't matter, he reminded himself. He needed answers.

"I think," he went on, "there has been a misunderstanding here. Now, whether that is my part, their part, your part, or all of it, we will hopefully soon know. I was supposed to meet someone in about the same location where I came across you. Were you meeting someone down here tonight?"

She shook her head quickly, her mouth moving against his palm, and muffled sounds met his ears.

Hunter sighed and gave her a warning look. "I'll let you explain, but keep your voice down, all right? This isn't a safe area, as I am sure you have surmised."

She rolled her eyes, which made him smile. He removed his hand, leaning back a little. "My name is Lucy Allred," she whispered, her voice so low he almost missed it. "I'm a teacher."

"And does the word ‘Briar' mean anything to you?" Hunter pressed.

Miss Allred shook her head, her brow creasing, and clamped down on her lips hard.

"Means something to me, though," a low female voice said.

Hunter glanced behind him, relieved to see a woman who was likely approaching forty years of age, dressed in the blandest shade of baggy calico, a tattered shawl, and a stained cap, all of which hid a muscular figure that he only knew to look for out of practice. She folded her arms and cocked a brow at him.

"Briar?" he ventured with a nod.

"Trick." She nudged her head towards Miss Allred. "Company?"

"Something like that." He stepped back from Miss Allred and rubbed at his brow. "She was being abducted when I arrived. I thought it was you, so I intervened."

Briar scoffed once. "I'd never be abducted."

Hunter frowned at her. "There wasn't exactly time to wait for her to display the extraordinary talents you possess for me to be certain. I realize now that she isn't dressed appropriately either, but quick thinking and all that."

"So what business do you have down here, pet?" Briar asked Miss Allred, coming towards her with a practiced nonchalance that Hunter also saw as intimidation.

"I don't know," she admitted with a whimper, a laced fist going to her mouth. "I don't know where I am, and I don't know where I am supposed to be. The coach left me without address or luggage, and I'm supposed to be at my father's house, and I don't even know where that is. I don't know why they were abducting me, and I am just so confused."

There was a hint of a sob at the end of that, and Hunter, for one, was not unmoved by it. He'd met a number of actors and actresses in his occupation as a spy, but there was something about Miss Allred that rang perfectly genuine, not to mention innocent. She was likely the most missish of young ladies, as were found in Society, unaware of any danger in her life and only concerned with the names on her dance card.

And now she was here.

Poor thing.

"Oh, pet," Briar whispered, tsking softly. "I can see you trembling from here. I'd tell you my name, but it is safer if I don't. Call me Briar. I fear our friend Trick here thought you were me when he intervened, but I hope he would have done so anyway." She didn't spare him a look as she came to Miss Allred and took her hands. "What is your name?"

"Lucy Allred," came the trembling whisper.

Hunter took a step back and let the women speak more privately, looking about them to make certain they were safe enough to do so.

"And your father? You are supposed to be at his house?" Briar pressed.

"Yes. He consolidated and moved to a cheaper place while I was away. I teach at a finishing school, and he didn't tell me where his new house was. The coach was supposed to…" She gestured towards the street they had come from, and Hunter needed no light to see that her jaw was quivering.

Briar muttered darkly under her breath, and he could only imagine what creativity she was using there. "What is your father's name? Between Trick and I, we could find his address for you."

"James Allred."

Hunter met Briar's eyes and nodded once. It wouldn't take long to get the correct address, though how her father could have relocated to this part of London…

The situation must have been beyond desperate. And why would he want her to join him here? Surely any father worth his salt would keep his fair and respectable daughter far away from this sort of shame.

"And which finishing school do you teach at?" Briar asked gently, rubbing Miss Allred's arms. "It may help us."

"Miss Masters's."

Lightning shot down both of Hunter's legs and seemed to crackle into the ground itself at those words. He did his best not to move or actually react beyond what was taking place inside him, but he looked at Briar anyway, and her eyes were hard on his.

The Convent. This girl taught at the Convent, but was clearly not one of the operatives there, and she had been almost abducted upon returning to London. On a night when operatives were to meet and from a location very close to where they would meet.

That was too many ironies for Hunter to be comfortable with.

And if he was reading Briar's expression correctly, she felt exactly the same way. "Right," she said briskly, returning her attention to Miss Allred as Hunter took a step closer, now readying himself to ward off further impending attacks on any of them. "We need to get you to a safe place. Well, safer than out in the open street, at any rate. Trick? This is your area."

Hunter nodded and stepped off the curb, looking around quickly. "Stay close," he murmured behind him, more for Miss Allred than for Briar.

He would have given anything for a cloak to hide Miss Allred's comparative finery, if not the brightness of her gown, but if they hit the shadows well enough, and she was tucked against Briar, they could probably get away with it. He glanced over his shoulder and saw, to his relief, that Briar had had the same impulse. Her arm was around Miss Allred's shoulder, the bulk of her fabric and the expansive nature of her shawl doing a great deal to hide the woman beside her without being obvious about it. It wasn't perfect, but it would do for now.

But where was he going to take them? The only place available to him at this hour with guaranteed safety was his own quarters, and the idea of bringing anyone there…

It defied every rule of operatives he had ever been taught. But what choice did he have? Secure lodgings were not easy to come by, and he couldn't risk some of his assets until the danger posed by Miss Allred's presence was assessed. If she was with him, she could be protected, and he could act swiftly. Briar would be with them as well, after all, and they could discuss her possibilities privately.

He had no idea what her personal life entailed, and he wasn't certain how deep her cover was. Some of the Convent operatives lived perfectly respectable, high society lives, others were practically hidden amid the poorer masses, and there were dozens of others in between, scattered all about and in all stations. He'd heard a rumor that there was even a Convent operative in the king's court, but he'd never receive confirmation of that, of course.

It was amusing to imagine, though.

Hunter took them in a roundabout way to his lodgings, more out of habit than protectiveness, but when he had doubled back on himself a second time, he decided enough was enough and took a more direct route. By this point, if someone was following them, he and Briar would simply have to take them out once they were inside. Miss Allred wouldn't have any idea where they were, what they were doing, or why they were going around in circles, if she had even noticed.

But at least she hadn't swooned. There was something to be said for that.

The boarding house was completely dark, just as it always was in the evening, and one might have thought the place abandoned from its appearances. Which was, he would admit, part of the attraction of the place for someone in his position. He didn't even see the cobwebs or the rats anymore; he was only ever focused on getting to his bed and getting whatever sleep he could.

It was certainly not a place that he would use for entertaining or bringing ladies back to.

The stairs creaked ominously, a deep groaning sound that spoke of the need for reinforcement, but Hunter led the women up anyway, ignoring every sound and crawling sensation that hit his hair. At the first landing, he turned left and pushed open the no longer locking door leading to the flats, holding it open for Briar and Miss Allred.

He put a finger to his mouth with a quick look to them both, then moved down the corridor to the last room on the right. He pulled the key from his inner pocket and jammed it into the lock, turning quickly and shoving the heavy door, pushing it open wide enough for the ladies to enter.

Once the door was closed, and all three locks engaged, Hunter exhaled heavily and moved to the fireplace. "Let me get this going. You could probably use some warmth."

"Don't do anything out of the ordinary," Briar urged in a low voice. "We cannot be obvious."

He looked at her almost sardonically. "I have been known to do this a time or two, Briar. And I do occasionally light a fire for myself."

She held up her hands in a sort of sarcastic, faux apology, her eyes widening in a manner he presumed she used on her husband regularly when he said something stupid.

It was very effective.

"Sorry," Hunter mumbled with a quick tilt of his head. "But I live here, and there are no staff. So when I want a fire, I make one. On the occasions when I actually sleep here."

"Wh-where else would you s-sleep?" Miss Allred asked, her teeth chattering audibly as she ran her hands over and over each other in a strange folding pattern.

She looked small and pathetic where she stood, and it wasn't fair that she had been dragged into all of this.

"Briar," Hunter said calmly, returning his attention to the fire he needed to build, "there is a clean blanket on the bed just there. Would you wrap up Miss Allred so she might get warm? I think she might be having a bit of a shock now that we are in here instead of out there."

"Oh, of course!" he heard, followed by some rustling from the bed. "Here, Miss Allred. A chair by the wall, hmm? Trick, do you have something to soothe her nerves? Madeira or port?"

Hunter clicked his tongue a little. "There may be some brandy in the bureau there. Normally, I would use a sideboard, but as you can see, none to be found." He laughed a little, but no one else did.

That never was anything less than awkward, even in these conditions and with strangers.

Shaking his head, he focused on the would-be fire. He picked up the flint and steel from the grate and began striking it together into the kindling. The sparks were quick and the kindling dry, which created the flames in the most rapid and efficient manner he'd ever had in this place. He would try not to take that personally; flint and steel couldn't know when he wanted a fire just for himself, after all.

Now, he did know some operatives named Flint and Steel, who would have made it personal, but they were not here.

For which they should all be grateful.

He added a small log to the now blazing kindling, then a slightly larger one, before rubbing his hands together and rising. He turned towards Miss Allred, shivering in the chair against the wall. Briar was crouched beside her, glass of brandy in hand, smiling gently.

"Perhaps we can move you a bit closer to the fire, Miss Allred?" Hunter suggested. "Then we can sort out what to do for you."