Brazen and the Beast (The Bareknuckle Bastards #2)(97)

Understanding dawned. Nik and Nora. Not that Whit could blame the woman before him—if Nora was anything like her friend, she was irresistible. But first things first. “You tell the lady that I’ll remove the wheels from every one of her vehicles if she doesn’t learn to drive with more caution.”

Nik rolled her eyes and shot Devil a look. “Was it Brixton? That boy needs to stop running his mouth.”

“It wasn’t Brixton, as a matter of fact,” Devil said, casually tapping the end of his walking stick against his boot. “And you needn’t be embarrassed; I only mentioned it because Felicity and I have found ourselves on that roof more than once.” He looked to Whit. “Perhaps you should bring Lady Henrietta up there.”

The idea of bringing Hattie to the rooftops and laying her bare beneath the stars was devastating.

Whit scowled at his brother. “You’re an ass.” He looked to their second, resisting the urge to gape at her bright pink cheeks. “What’s the problem?”

Gratitude flashed in her eyes. “We’re to have forty able-bodied men on the docks tonight, to help with unloading.”

Whit nodded.

“But there aren’t forty to be had,” she said. “There aren’t four.”

Whit wasn’t concerned. Not yet. But he was puzzled. “What’s that mean?”

She waved a long arm toward the docks in the distance. “It’s quiet on the docks.”

“Because Whit bought all the boats,” Devil quipped. “I’ve already had a word with him about it. We’re getting it sorted. What do you know about tinned salmon?”

Nik’s brow furrowed in confusion for a heartbeat before she shook her head and returned to the matter at hand. “That’s not why. There’s no one to do the work.”

Devil gave a little huff of laughter. “That’s impossible.”

“I swear to you it isn’t,” Nik said. “There’s no one working the docks. There are no hooks to be had. And we’ve ninety tons of ice melting in the hold every moment we think about what might or mightn’t be possible.”

“I’ve seen dockworkers all day,” Whit said, lifting his chin toward the warehouse across the street. “They’ve been in and out of Sedley, collecting their pay.”

“Be that as it may . . .” She reached into her coat, extracting a piece of paper and extending it to Whit. “There are no men to work the cargo on the docks. And if I had to guess, I’d say you’re the reason why.”

He took the letter.

Beast—

Congratulations on your new business.

Good luck finding men willing to work for you.

I await your reply.

Yrs, etc.,

Lady Henrietta Sedley

Future proprietress, Sedley Shipping



Whit gave a little, shocked laugh and looked to Nik. “Where’d you get this?”

“Sarita says she nailed it to the mast of the Siren not an hour ago.”

His brows knit together. “What is the Siren?”

“One of your new haulers.”

“Impossible. She hasn’t left the warehouse since she arrived.”

“Seems she has.” She raised a brow in the direction of the note. “We found it flapping in the breeze, virtually the only sound on the docks.”

Those docks were full whenever there was a ship in berth, men flocking, knowing there was money to be had for anyone with a strong back and a steady hand. He looked down at the note. “No hooks to be had?”

Nik shook her head. “Nowhere. We’ve our men—but nowhere near enough to empty that ship as quickly as we need tonight.”

How had she done it?

Devil whistled, long and low. “I thought you said she didn’t play dirty.”

Whit’s heart began to pound. He had said that, hadn’t he? But this was dirty. Wonderfully, wickedly dirty. He lifted the paper to his nose, reveling in the soft scent of almonds on it.

“She doesn’t need to be kept safe,” Devil said, his words full of dry humor. “Christ, we all need to be kept safe from her. She’s been waging war right beneath your nose.”

“You’ve got to get your girl, Beast. She risks the whole shipment; I don’t have to tell you how many months it will take to replenish the amount of champagne we’ve got in that hold if it gets stolen.”

Whit should have been furious. And he was. She’d put herself in danger to best him. But he was also vibrating with excitement. He hadn’t lost her. This was a shot over the bow.

His warrior wasn’t through with him.

“She promised me a rivalry.”

Another long, low whistle from Devil, and then, “This is proof that watching isn’t enough, bruv. If you want her safe, your best shot is standing by her side.”





Chapter Twenty-Two


After a childhood on and off the decks of ships, trailing behind her father, Hattie was rarely more comfortable than when she was on the water, even when the water in question was a barely-there lift from the Thames as the tide ebbed. She stood on the raised deck at the prow of the hauler, lantern at her feet, staring out at the black river, marveling at the silence of the dock at dusk on a night when a ship was in port and ready to be unloaded.