Page 85 of A Dark and Stormy Knight
Morley didn’t know the place. He thought he knew every inch of this city, but that dock didn’t even ring a bell.
“There’s an old flour storage warehouse there. My father bought it years ago, but he’s done nothing with it. I know William’s been working out of it. I can show you where it is.”
“How many men would he have with him?” Argent asked from where he glided down the hall. “Would these partners be armed, perchance?”
The question drew her eyes wide with panic, but she shook her head. “I-I don’t know. I rarely mark my husband when he’s discussing business. You have to understand, he’s never had one of his ventures succeed.” Her brows knit together. “But this one, it’s been profitable. He’s not been able to keep himself from throwing the income in my face but…I don’t have the details.”
“I’m going.” Morley rushed back toward the door.
“So am I.” Honoria dogged him down the steps and onto the front walk before he turned and seized her by the shoulders.
His grip gentled when he felt her tense and flinch.
“You’re staying here,” he fought to keep his voice gentle against the rising tide of his own urgency.
“She’s mysister. Besides, you just said you don’t know where it is.”
Argent jogged down the stairs after them. “We might need backup if these associates are as shady as they are likely to be. I’ll go for Dorian and Ash.”
“Very good.” Morley angled himself in the opposite direction, lamenting how much city lay between Southwark and Mayfair. “I’ll meet you at the docks.”
Argent stopped him with a hand on his arm. “Is that wise? To go alone?”
“I don’t give a dusty fuck if it’s wise,” he growled. “It’s what is happening.”
The large man assessed him with that cold, cold gaze of his. “Are you good, Morley? Where is your rage?”
“What sort of question is that?” he asked impatiently.
“An important one,” Argent insisted in that monotonous way of his. “Where is it? Because I can’t see it. Is the fury deep or is it close to the surface? Can you make the decisions that have to be made? Because that is your wife and unborn child. What if you arrive to find the worst—?”
“Don’t,” Morley snarled, wrenching his arm away and shoving his finger in the assassin’s brutal face. They stood like that for a moment, Morley’s breath sawing in and out of his chest. “Just…don’t.”
It didn’t bear consideration. It would be the loss that shattered him completely.
Morley glanced at his reflection in the window. He didn’t look like himself. Harsh. Mean. Drawn tight and locked down. His eyes gone flat.
Dead.
“I’m going to get my wife,” he said. “You do what you will, I’ll do what I must.”
Argent nodded, leaving him with his departing words. “Wait for us, Morley. Don’t let your fury endanger her life. I made that mistake once and Millie paid for it with blood.”
Morley leapt onto his horse and reached down to pull Honoria up behind him.
“I didn’t know she was with child,” Honoria said into his ear. “Is it…George’s?”
“It’s mine,” he growled, gathering up his reins. “Now, I’m going to ride like hell,” he warned. “Can you hold on?”
“Like hell is the only way we Goode Girls ride,” she said, her voice flinty with an admirable strength.
Morley spurred his horse out into the square, astonishing society matrons and bustling errand staff as he went.
Wherewashis rage? What emotion lived in him now?
Fury was often hot. A constant companion of masculine brutality he assumed every man carried within him.
But not now.Thisemotion was stark. Unutterably bleak. An icy chill that echoed through a vast yawning abyss opening in his chest. This was what caused men to summon demons and sacrifice virgins. This rage. This power. This need to crush and consume. This desperate hope to stop all things beyond his control if only to protect that which was most precious.
