Page 5 of Dukes of Peril

“We’re the Dukes,” Sy goes on. “Our job is to fight, and what I did that night—” He tenses, eyes staring out into the dark river. “I should have stayed. I should have fought.” Suddenly, he whips his gaze to me, adding, “I should have fought to keep you.” The moment is too acute, too intimate. Even Remy squirms beside me, Nick carefully not looking back, as if they both realize this demands privacy. But then, like a string being cut, Sy averts his eyes, adding, “I mean, all of you.”

I squint against the wind, not knowing what to say. The apology up in the belfry was a start, but these guys… it’s like they had a glimmer of something good coming, and they sabotaged the hell out of it. “J-j-just get us somewhere warm and dry, and then we can do all the fighting we want.”

Nick glances back, hair ruffling in the wind, and steers the boat across the dark water. I look back, watching the rocky face of the cliff we just jumped from growing smaller in the distance, and feel my face paling.

Remy and I share a long look.

We really jumped off that?

“Does he know where he’s going?” I ask Sy.

“My little brother has more connections than an airport,” is all he says, but Nick shifts the boat into gear, making it impossible to hear or speak.

It’s a long while later, in the gray dawn, that houses rise on the banks. Nick steers the boat toward a dock that he seems to recognize more than the others, but Sy jumps up instantly. Together, they ease the boat into the slip, securing it to the hooks with rope, and watching them move like this, smooth and powerful and efficient, is almost enough to distract me from the heaviness of the moment.

I look past the boathouse, toward the steep steps that climb up the mountainside. Behind the trees looms a gray house with big windows that reflect the muted light of the sunrise.

“Where are we?” I ask, clutching the blanket to my chest.

“A place to hide out.” Nick tucks his gun away before offering me a hand. “Sorry it’s not the Crane Motel.”

I snort and climb over the edge of the boat. “If I never see that shit hole again, it’ll be too soon.”

He grunts in agreement while Sy keeps the boat steady for Remy’s exit, and then the four of us start the hike up the hill.

“So how did you find this place?” I ask, my calves burning.

“I did a security job here for Daniel last summer,” Nick says, clutching my elbow to help me up each step. “It’s owned by some jack-off that lives in the Caribbean nine months out of the year. They leave after Labor Day. The whole thing was wild—I’ve never been around that much money. Diamonds on every finger, Viper Scratch piled in candy bowls,” we reach the back door and he opens a security box, “and, of course, Daniel’s hustlers providing the best pussy in the city.” Remy and Sy wait impatiently, eyes on alert through the trees as Nick stabs in a code. “Which is why I have the security details. Daniel didn’t play when it came to his pussy.” He glances at me, mouth in a tight line. “We had contingency plans in case something went to shit.”

The light on the box blinks from red to green, the bolt sliding open.

He explains, “I figure we can hide out here until we come up with a plan.”

“If that plan doesn’t involve taking out my father—” I start.

“Or mine,” Remy adds.

I nod. “Then add them to the list. None of us are safe while they’re around.”

Sy touches my lower back, ushering me deeper into the house. “We’ll get your hit list together, but first, we need to patch you two up.”

I’m not in the mood to argue.

We all follow Nick deeper into the house, which is a little North Side-esque for my liking. Although he’s loose here–relaxed in a way that broadcasts how secure he feels in this strange place–the rest of us are on alert, tense, our footsteps quiet. Nick, however, starts turning on lights, even stopping at a thermostat to crank up the heat.

From behind me, Sy clears his throat. “Come on, Remy. Let’s check out that shoulder. I hurt just looking at you.”

Nick and I watch as Sy helps Remy out of his shirt, and I’m not thinking much of it just then; what happened while we were falling. But then Remy twists, hissing as his damp shirt flops to the floor, and I catch sight of his back.

It’s mottled with black and blue, blooming out toward his shoulder, his lungs, his spine.

So when Sy inspects his arm pensively, muttering, “Shouldn’t be too hard to pop it back in,” I lurch forward to stop him.

“I’m the Duchess. I’ll do it.”

Sy swings those blue eyes on me, blinking. “Lavinia, you look like you can barely stand. I’ve got it. I saw someone do this at the gym once, so it’s not–”

“No,” I demand, stepping between them. Remy watches me, head tilted, like he’s confused why I would possibly be so eager to pop his shoulder back into the joint. But then, his face clears.

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