Page 72 of Black Curtain

“Maybe this ‘case’ is nothing but one big distraction, Black. A way of getting us away from the others while his people kill or kidnap all of them.”

As soon as the last word left my mouth, I felt my heart stop.

It clenched so hard in my chest, I fought to breathe, but there was no air.

Behind me, I felt Black’s arm cinch around my chest.

His hand gripped my shoulder so hard it hurt.

I fought to think past everything I’d just said.

Nothing but debilitating fear ran through me as I contemplated my own words… what had run through my mind and out my mouth in a continuous stream before I had time to think about what that collection of words and thoughts actually meant.

I was trying to come up with a different scenario in my mind, one I liked better, when the timeline seemed to skip in front of us.

It jarred me at first, watching them go from being naked and thrusting to sitting on the couch together, still half-naked but now partly covered, the fire burned down in the grate, their hair mussed and stuck to their necks and heads with sweat.

They shared a mug of something alcoholic, wine I guessed, and looked into the fire.

Both of them appeared tired but content.

“Can we stay here?” she asked, giving him a thin smile. “They said they would follow us, didn’t they? That fat church lady, especially. Do we need to worry about them showing up at the door? Nooses in their hands?”

I frowned, glancing at Black.

He returned my stare, his expression dark.

“No, my dearest. I doubt that very much.” The male smiled back at her, taking the mug from her fingers and putting it to his lips. He tilted his head back and swallowed for a few seconds. When he got enough, he lowered the pewter stein.

I realized it one of those same steins I’d seen on the antique table under one of the large windows. In the vision it looked brand new, however, and freshly polished.

The man burped and let out a low gasp as he handed it back to his wife.

“No,” he repeated, smiling. “You need not worry about that, dearest.”

He watched her drink from the mug. Her swallows were significantly more delicate than his had been. Still looking at her with affection with his eyes, he shrugged.

“They will not come here. Remember how we left things, my clever, wicked, impossible to resist wife? It was your idea. They will count the bodies. The numbers will match. They will think us dead along with the rest. They would not have the intelligence to discern what you did to hide us from them. Moreover, they would never assume pirates to come from real money.”

My eyebrows rose higher.

I glanced up and back at Black, who met my gaze, his mouth hard.

“…Anyway,” the male said, motioning around the high-ceilinged room. “They would not come here. You know what they are like. They would not leave that place. Likely not for any amount of spite or profit. They will find some local peasant to hang on their scaffold. Catharine, perhaps. Or Lenora. Or they will shoot a mountain cat and claim you transformed into this thing after you ate the Henderson boy.”

She burst out in a laugh, nearly spitting out some of the drink.

I decided it was wine.

He chuckled with her, smiling wider as she handed him back the stein.

“They will not find us here,” he repeated, taking it from her fingers. “We will use different names here. Anyway, they think us from the Caribbean, remember? Blackhearts. Jackanapes. They would never think to scan faces in society, looking for us. They would think such a thing quite impossible.”

“New names, you say? For us?” The auburn-haired woman gave him a coy look. “Do you have them picked out for us, my beloved?”

Black grunted.Jesus. Even his parents were grifting, murderous fucks. Why am I even remotely surprised by that?

Are you surprised by that, Black?

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