Page 67 of The Highlander's Holiday Wife

But soon, he hoped. Something bad was happening here, something that put the bairns in mortal danger.

“For the time being,” he added, “let’s assume it’s a new gang that’s formed. That means, like other gangs, they must have a bolthole or hideout. If nothing else, they’d need a place to stow the children.”

Samantha turned up her hand. “But where? None of us have heard anything, and it’s been months. What are they doing with them?”

“Probably using them right now for smaller jobs, ones that wouldn’t raise much suspicion. Look, I know you don’t want to hear this, but I think we’re going to have to enlist more help in searching the stews.”

She grimaced. “Perhaps, but it’s an awful risk.”

Emmy muttered something under her breath as she rubbed at a tiny spot on the tabletop.

“What is it, Emmy?” Braden quietly asked.

Startled, she looked up. “Uh, sir?”

“You know something.”

For a few moments, she seemed to debate with herself before answering. “It’s just a rumor, sir. It’s probably not true, but if it wasn’t, I wouldna go near the bloody place. And not much scares me in Old Town, ye ken.”

Joe got up and stalked over to join them. “Ye’ll nae be goin’ there, Emmy. I dinna care how worrit ye are for the kiddies.”

She flapped a hand. “Och, dinna be a fool. ’Course I’m not goin’ there.” She fixed her earnest blue gaze on Samantha. “And ye’ll nae be goin’ there, either, if ye know what’s good for ye.”

Samantha reached across the table and took Emmy’s fluttering hand. “I know you’re worried for me, but those children are in danger. Even if it’s a rumor, you must tell me.”

“Emmy,” said Joe in a warning voice.

“It’s all right,” Braden said to the young woman. “I’ll keep Lady Samantha safe.”

“Ye promise?” she asked.

“Word of a Kendrick.”

Samantha shot him an irritated glance but held her peace. She was a woman who didn’t like ceding control over anything, including her own safety. But she was also an intelligent woman who knew she needed help.

“It’s a tavern off Niddry,” Emmy reluctantly said. “It’s called the Hangin’ Judge.”

Dammit to hell.

Braden shook his head. “That’s nae good.”

Samantha frowned. “You’ve been there?”

“I wouldn’t set foot in the damn place unless someone held a gun to my head—something which no doubt occurs there on a regular basis.”

Joe nodded. “Like rats in a nest they are in that place. Worst den of cutthroats and thieves in Old Town.”

“Not your average cutthroats, either,” Braden added. “Some of the most violent thugs in Edinburgh frequent the Hanging Judge. Even the police avoid it.”

He’d heard tell of it at the clinic. All sorts of ugly rumors hung over the place like a foul smoke, including those involving body snatchers and killers for hire.

Samantha nodded. “It sounds like the perfect hiding place for a new gang of criminals and for hiding the children, too. Especially if the police avoid it.”

When she made to stand, Braden wrapped a hand around her wrist and gently pulled her back down. “We are not running off half-cocked to the most dangerous spot in Old Town.”

She turned to him, her eyes glittering with a dangerous combination of anger and determination. “I never run off half-cocked, sir. But I will have a look at this tavern from a sensible distance. There is much that can be learned by watching the comings and goings of such an establishment.”

“There’s nae safe place when it comes to the Hangin’ Judge, my lady,” Joe warned.

---