Page 92 of Greed: The Savage
Casual as Sunday, Dynevor walked over to his desk and picked up an open bottle of brandy and one of two empty glasses set there. With steady hands, he poured himself a drink.
Thornwick turned on his heel. If the word had reached everyone, it had reached Addien—and he’d damn well be the one to put her right.
Dynevor called out. “Where do you think you are going?” The earl’s tone held more amusement than alarm.
Thornwick forced himself to turn back. As he did, he couldn’t help but wonder if Dynevor had known from the start his father of the streets was set to rise again—if he actually welcomed the dark devil’s return.
Thornwick tested his cynical suspicions. “I trust Diggory’s returned for the Devil’s Den. He must have plans to fight you for it.” He watched Dynevor closely.
“On the contrary,” Dynevor said, perching his hip on the edge of the table. He dangled his barely touched drink between his ink-stained fingers. “He’s back for vengeance against those who wronged him. Anyone who harmed the Devil’s Den in any way is fair game. He’s vowed to see the Devil’s Den rise above Forbidden Pleasures, Lucifer’s Lair, the Hell and Sin, and anyother upstart club that thinks to get established.” With that, he took a drink, still just as casual. He set it down. “Anyone employed here,” he paused, “and loyal to the Devil’s Den is safe.”
There were a great many people in danger. A large number of them Dynevor counted as family, and friends, but no one here inside these walls.
Some of the dread that had consumed him since he learned Diggory was back receded. Addien was safe. By luck, she’d ended up on the right side of the impending war. It was something he could bring her, some actual assurance.
And then he was getting her the hell out of here. Away from London. Away from Eng—
“Every single event today, including your various visits…Whitby and his fate, were carefully orchestrated.” Thornwick consulted the wall-mounted regulator clock. “It can be any moment now when he makes his reappearance. It’ll be a fierce strike. One of two places: the Hell and Sin Club because it is his oldest rival and run by the ones who got away.”
Funny how the wealthy, powerful men who’d built an empire in sin and vice should receive a vaunted title. Addien had gotten away…and she’d done it on her own.
“And given Latimer’s ouster, Forbidden Pleasures,” Thornwick said.
“It’ll be both,” Dynevor stated it as fact.
Diggory’s heir would know.
Restless energy ran through him, to get to her, to see her. To reassure her.
And then to make a markedly improved attempt at a proposal of marriage.
Dynevor appeared none too eager to relieve Thornwick.
“He’s got eyes everywhere,” Dynevor was saying. “His army was the largest London’s ever seen. He’s already assembled a legion that likely surpasses the one he left behind. He’s notcoming for us.” Dynevor opened his center desk drawer. He withdrew several sheets of paper and fetched a pen. As he wrote and spoke at the same time, he didn’t bother with a chair.
“This is where your work matters most, Thornwick.” There came the quick staccato scratch of the other man’s pen scraping, hitting wood as he penned his note. He paused, dipped his pen into the inkwell, and resumed writing. “You’ve dealt in security and secrets, but nothing like this. You’ve met your greatest match.”
Did Thornwick imagine the edge of admiration in the other man’s rough tones? Tones that’d suddenly become coarser than usual.
“He has men in here. We won’t know how long.” Dynevor finished one note and set it aside. He reached for another parchment, dipped his pen into the ink, and proceeded to dash off a second letter. “There’s people in our circles, ones we’re going to protect, and ones we’re not going to bother with.” The way the other man spoke about acquaintances, and perhaps even friends or family, falling in battle was the same casual way he went over regular club updates.
Thornwick should have admired that ruthlessness—it was how he lived his own life. Yet, for reasons he couldn’t name, a sour taste crept into his mouth as Dynevor went on.
“There will be those we lend support to. We’ll ensure their safety and find more power from that.”
Dynevor finished his third letter and straightened. “Before you leave this office, you have an assignment, a way to communicate to those who need to know. These aren’t simple letters with the words written in them. This isn’t pay people a visit and casually announce it with servants lurking about. I want a code, a language people on the inside can’t understand and aren’t even aware is happening.”
Bloody hell.He eyed the clock.
Addien.
Write the code and get the hell out.
This is what he’d done…among other responsibilities at the Home Office.
Dynevor, with a point to his chair, ceded his throne for Thornwick to work, and Thornwick worked as fast as he’d ever worked, and with the same level of expertise.
When finished, he stood and impatiently gestured for the earl to have a look.
