Page 58 of Her Beast

Malcolm knew he was a bastard for what he was about to tell her, but then what had Tommy Harlow ever done to deserve his protection?

“What do you want to know?” he asked.

The open delight on her face was more brilliant than a pyrotechnic display.

“Why is my father so ashamed of his past? Just because everyone was so poor?”

“The more successful some people are, the more they struggle to hide their roots. But it’s not just poverty that your father is trying to forget.”

Her forehead furrowed. “What do you mean?”

Malcolm looked across into her huge innocent blue eyes and felt like he was corrupting a toddler. “Are you sure you want to know what I mean, Miss Harlow?”

She scowled. “I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t.”

“Fair enough. Your father hasn’t always been a legitimate businessman.”

“Go on,” she said, not looking especially surprised.

“Once upon a time we both worked for the same man—a criminal named Charles Greene.”

“Doing what?”

“Whatever Greene wanted us to do.” He watched as she absorbed his words and wondered what she was concluding.

She pressed her lips into a tight frown and nodded. “I think I can imagine what you mean.”

Malcolm seriously doubted that, but he wasn’t about to enlighten her on the specifics.

“In your father’s defense”—he snorted—“well, and my own, too, I suppose, working for Greene was the only way to get out of the Dials other than a cheap pine box. Greene held out that rarest of rare offers to young men like us: opportunity.”

“You worked together and yet you are enemies with my father?”

“Not back then. Back then I barely knew him. I knew your Uncle Brian much better.”

“You were friends with my uncle?”

Malcolm hesitated, and then nodded. “Yes, we were friends.”

She cocked her head. “Why do I feel as if there is something you aren’t telling me?”

He couldn’t help smiling at that. “There are alotof things I’m not telling you, Miss Harlow.”

For a moment she looked offended, but then she laughed. “I suppose that is true. So, you’ve kidnapped me for something my father has done recently, then?”

“I won’t answer questions about that.”

She flinched at his cold tone and Malcolm felt a surge of guilt for suppressing her naturally curious nature so abruptly, so he said, “To be honest, I only worked with your father for a short time before Greene lost control of his… organization. Half the people who worked for Greene shifted their allegiance to the man who took his place and the rest of us moved on to other things.”

“I’m assuming when you saylost controlyou mean he died—or was killed, rather?”

Malcolm eyed her with respect; it wasn’t what the average debutante would have said.

“Yes, a competitor killed him and took what he had. That was the way things worked in the Dials—probably still do. You see the government wants nothing to do with areas like that, so criminals step in and provide things the people need. Of course, those criminals are not altruistic so there is always a cost for those services. In any case, a man needs to be strong to hold that position. Greene grew lazy and placed too much faith in somebody young and hungry; somebody who eventually took what he had.”

“And my father worked for the other man?”

Again, he hesitated, but then said, “He did.”

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