Page 41 of Seducing the Knave

Chapter Eleven

Max sat at his desk. Across from him stood Carver, a young man whose only apparent flaw to his almost unnatural handsomeness was a vicious scar that ran beneath the left side of his jaw—the remnant of a botched attempt to slit his throat when he’d been a lad of only thirteen. The attack might have been successful if Max hadn’t come along at just the right moment, earning Carver’s undying loyalty.

At the moment, Carver was giving a solemn report of the most recent activities perpetrated against them.

It appeared Max’s former mate and longtime rival had been busy in his absence—instigating a raid on their Whitechapel location along with their largest warehouse in Wapping. Most of those arrested had already been recovered, but the resources and manpower required to clean up such messes had left other aspects of their operation vulnerable.

Max suspected the recent raids had been set up as a diversion. But it was not yet clear what Gill intended by rising up to make a nuisance of himself after so many years.

Whatever the man wanted, he wasn’t going to get it.

The organization Max had created was too strong and had a reach and depth that very few were aware of. Like tendrils of smoke through the darkness, the full extent of Max’s power and influence often went unnoticed until it was too late. And it was far too solid to be rocked by anything Gill might do, but that didn’t mean individuals couldn’t be hurt during his attempts.

“Is that all?” he asked once Carver finished the detailed report.

He could clearly see it wasn’t. The man was holding something back—something he’d eventually have to reveal, though it was clear he’d rather not.

Carver shifted his weight, a sharp indicator of the typically unperturbable man’s unease.

Max leaned back in his chair and crossed an ankle over the opposite knee. Narrowing his gaze, he prepared himself for bad news. “Tell.”

“One of our lads spotted Gill creeping about in Mayfair two nights ago.”

That got Max’s attention. Now he understood Carver’s reticence. His trusted right hand was the only person who knew of Max’s blood association to the Earl of Wright and the other Wright bastards.

“What business could that wretch have in such a posh neighborhood?”

Carver met his hard gaze. “He was scoping out a certain address on Park Street.”

“The fuck he was,” Max muttered menacingly under his breath. “How in bloody hell did he find out?”

“Don’t know, sir, but I’d not put it past him to use the information.”

“Bugger him,” Max muttered.

At least his brothers and sister were all in the country for another week or so. It should be enough time for Max to figure out whatever trouble Gill Rook was brewing and put a stop to it.

“Have a couple of our best blokes roaming Park Street at all times. If the blackguard makes the slightest move, I expect to know about it.”

“Yes, sir.”

After Carver left, Max took a walk through the house, which wasn’t actually a house at all. Once an old warehouse, the majority of the large nondescript building now contained living quarters for up to two dozen, though only thirteen women and four children were currently in residence along with the five men who served as constant guards. Max’s personal living quarters took up a significant portion of the third floor and were kept strictly separate from the rest of the residence.

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