Chapter 27

I n the dead of night, a gentle wind scuffed over the waves cresting against the empty docks. Many ships had gone out with the tide, leaving few berths housing a ship. Non a single man was lurking about the waterfront. The scapegallows had gone on shore, leaving the bulk to be unloaded tomorrow morning. After a night of taverns and women, the captain would be lucky to get any of the crew back to the ship.

The captain was a nice enough sort, but the crew was an entirely different matter. Not one could be trusted. Ya might even get a blade for your troubles if you were dumb enough to turn yer back.

Blade hadn't had a choice. The ship's captain took him on at the last port, allowing him to work the fare off on the way to Brighton. Wasn't the first time he'd worked on a ship. Doubt it would be the last. Securing the heavy rope around the water-pillar, he took a glance in both directions. With no one in sight, he dashed across the muddy street and flattened himself against the tavern wall.

He was lucky to be alive. Thanks be to his maker and thanks to the ship that found him floating in the sea. Course he'd been unconscious at the time, is how he got so far away.

The last he remembered was sailing overboard like a seagull in flight. He'd swallowed half the sea before his mind kicked in to survival mode. Then the ship blew. Debris had landed all around hm, nearly knocking him out. He latched on to a floating piece of the ship before he passed out. He must have drifted, until another ship found him. And an angel nursed him back to life.

He'd been gone a long time. Finally found his way back, but he had to keep out of sight.

Now came the decision—to enter, or remain outside, where it was safe. Safe in the shadows. Safe in the dark.

Some might recognize him; the only one he feared was Bellingham. That Bastard had him thrown overboard with a knife sticking in his belly. Then again, Blade supposed it had been luck. When the ship blew apart, Blade was damn glad he hadn't been on it. He just hoped Bellingham was.

No guarantee. That snake had a way of showing up when ya least expected it. Blade saw the ship explode, so Bone had done the job. But he had no proof that Bellingham had met his demise.

A cloaked figure emerged from the tavern. The one Blade had been waiting for.

He trailed along behind, keeping a good distance between them. When Bone slipped around a corner, Blade knew the man would be waiting for him. Blade crept to the corner and whispered, "I know you're there. It's me."

A head with big eyes poked out. Hard to see, but then he reckoned the man couldn't see him neither.

"That you?" whispered a voice.

"Yeah," Blade replied, then hurried around the corner of the warehouse.

"Ye're a sight for sore eyes. Gads. I thought ye were a gonner."

"Seadog's men threw me overboard."

"Ya didna' jump?"

"No. I didn't have time. Besides. I was trying to keep you from gettin' noticed. They found me behind a pile of crates." Blade shrugged, then realized no one could see him. "Nothing I could do."

"At least ya got off afor' it blew."

Blade slapped a hand on Bone's shoulder. "Looks like you did too."

"They never saw me. I put enough powder on that ship to blow it to smithereens."

"I saw. Trouble was, I got hit on the head. Piece of ship come flying at me and slammed me good, and that was after Bellingham stabbed me."

"Gor, Blade. I didna' see that."

"I crawled on top of a plank of wood before I passed out. Guess I floated out to sea."

"How'd ya get back?"

"Another ship found me. I been hidin' in case Bellingham didn't go down with the ship."

"He's still skulking round. That damn Seadog too."

Blade swore under his breath. "Too bad. Those two are as ornery as the bunch I sailed in with."

Bone breathed a grunt. "If that's the case, yer lucky to still be alive."

"I am anyway." Blade poked his head around the wall to see if anyone was walking down the street. Black as night in some spots. Still, he didn't see anything. "Ya seen Bellingham around here?"

"Yeah. And he's got a whole new crew with a ship to match."

"Blimey." Blade said, shaking his head. "What happened to their captain?"

"Dead, most like." Bone spit a wad of juice to the ground. "I know a gent gonna be real glad to see ya."

"Who?"

"Aaron Greystoke."

"He's just the man I need to see. Got any passage going up north? I might could tag along?"

"Got some horses. We never quit looking fer ya. Come on."

Shadows lingered in every corner. Bellingham pressed up to the planked wall as he peered around the sharp corner. Waves lapped against the hull of several ships lining the docks. He only needed to find one.

He'd handed over one hundred pounds for the information. A bloody fortune when his resources had dwindled after the explosion. A costly mistake. One that all the brothers would regret.

Damn Greystoke. Damn them all to hell. Dumb luck he'd gotten off that ship.

Bellingham slipped behind a storehouse, blending in with the other ruffians that frequented the dockside taverns. Not a savory lot. Just like the new crew he commanded. A fight most every night broke out between the men. These cutthroats would sooner slit a man's gullet for one blimey coin.

Since the brothers were looking for him, he had stuck mostly to the ship. For the trek to London, he'd traveled by land, using the dense woods for cover. While keeping to the shadows, he happened upon another of Greystoke's men, and now he stalked the man like a thief after a rich purse. How ironic—spies spying on spies.

Aaron, the youngest brother of the three, was in cahoots with the lower life of London. Men for hire, whatever the job might be, until the bloody morals got in the way. Bellingham had no such qualms. He didn't give a tinker's damn what a bloke had to do, as long as the job got done. But for the Greystoke brothers, Bellingham wanted the pleasure of destroying those three himself.

The man he followed was slipping in and out of shadows, making sure not to be followed. That meant he was headed to a secret meeting. With Aaron? Bellingham hoped so. He'd like to take the brother out with one thrust of his blade.

On to the next phase of his plan. He had to restore his capital. Luck had a way of getting him through most any situation. And his wit. He could talk his way into and out of about any circumstance. If one plan failed, he made another. What better motivator than greed. An emotion all too familiar.

The man came to a sudden halt. Bellingham jumped out of sight just in the nick of time. The hairs stood on the back of his neck. He tugged the cap low over his brow and did not dare move. He'd hoped to find one of the Greystoke brothers. If he had brought men with him, he'd be prepared for all three. Since he was alone—

Bloody hell.

The man was nowhere in sight. Bellingham looked left, then right. No one on the street. Not one shadow moved. He hurried several steps to the last place he'd seen the man. A dark figure jumped at him, grabbing his arm and shoulder in a hold, with a thick blade stretching his neck.

"I knew I was being followed, but I didn't knowd it was you."

"You have the wrong man. I mean you no harm. I was minding my own business."

"Is that a fact?" The man chuckled. "Imagine the reward I'm gonna get for you."

"No one will pay for me. I'm nobody."

The man loosened his hold. Before Bellingham could make a move, he was spinning around and pinned with a hard wall at his back. The man had the strength of five burly seagoers. But his eyes. His eyes gleamed with an icy chill that sent shivers down Bellingham's back.

"I knowd who you be. I also knowd the gent I give you to will pay. I'm meeting me friends down there." The man gave a jerk of his head. "Now get walking. And don't try nothin'."

Bellingham counted the seconds until the long, thick blade was moved. He released his breath and staggered as he was pushed.

Bloody fucking hell.

"Where's Bellingham?"

"I aint' his keeper."

Samuel locked his jaw to keep from losing his temper. These cutthroats were the worst lot he'd ever commanded. Since he was their new captain, and he was clearly outnumbered, he chose his words carefully.

"Have you seen him?"

"Yesterdee. Dressed in old clothes, like the rest of us."

"You haven't seen him since yesterday?"

"That's what I said."

Samuel wanted to sock the man in the jaw, but the cur took his big knife out and rubbed his thumb along its edge. A drop of blood slid down the ten inch, razor-sharp blade.

He got the message, but Samuel hadn't lived this long by being timid.

"Any idea where he is now?"

"Said something about payback. Figure he's after an old debt."

Bollocks.

Bellingham couldn't be dumb enough to go after the Greystoke brothers alone. The man wasn't stupid, but he wasn't invisible, either. Even dressed like the riffraff on the waterfront, he could still be noticed.

Where the bloody hell had he gone?

"Let's get something straight. I'm yer captain. If ya want to see another coin, you'll get off your arse and help me find ‘em." Samuel glared at the man, eye to eye, not backing down.

"I heered tell Bellingham has pretty big pockets," the cur said, sheathing his knife. "That's good enough for me."

By the time Samuel left the tavern, he'd rounded up three more. The five of them set out to find their boss.