The Blood of a Baron - K.J. Jackson Page 0,30
moment? I saw an acquaintance back a way that I must catch before he disappears.”
Her eyebrows flipped high and she looked around. “Oh, of course.” She motioned to the water. “This is a pleasant enough spot to wait. The water will do well to calm me.”
“I figured—you always were at peace at the edge of a river or pond.”
A half smile tugged at the corner of her lips. “So you do have some pleasant memories of our past.”
He looked directly at her. “I have more than some, Laney. That’s the problem.”
Her mouth opened, but before she could retort, he stepped away from her, striding across the undulating lawns in a straight line to Rune.
Rune stood in place, leaning against the oak, nonchalantly picking at his nails and obviously waiting for Wes to come to him.
Ten steps before reaching Rune, Wes’s voice rumbled through the air, low and menacing. “What the hell did you do to her house, Rune?”
Rune flicked the tips of his fingers against the pad of his thumb, one by one, and looked up at Wes. “Good day to you, too.”
Wes stopped in front of his shipmate, glaring down at Rune. Good thing he was a half head taller than the man or Rune surely would have busted him down to size on the ship long ago. For all of Wes’s brawn and pure strength, Rune was lean and crafty, a sleek panther in a fight.
His mouth pulled to a tight line. “Hello. Now what the hell did you do to her townhouse?”
Rune met his glare. “I went through it, just as you asked. No box to be found. May I remind you that I was doing you a favor?”
“You may, but it doesn’t change the piss-poor job you did of it.”
“Piss-poor?” Rune pushed himself away from lounging against the tree, his eyebrows drawing together. “It was never my idea to leave the box idle in Gruggin’s hands.”
“You know why we did. And why we need it back now.”
“Aye, I do. But just because you mucked it up with the chit’s brother doesn’t mean you get to set your ire on me instead of yourself.”
“All my ire is directed at myself where Gruggin is concerned. My ire at you is how you left her townhouse.”
“How I left the place?” Rune’s head tilted to the side. “You know better than anyone how discreet I am.”
“Discreet?” Wes scoffed. “You call what you did to her townhouse discreet? There wasn’t a tuft of stuffing left in place, not a fabric left unshredded, not one book on a shelf, not a piece of furniture uncracked. It looks like a typhoon set through the place.”
“It—what?” Rune’s eyebrows snapped together. “The place was torn apart?”
“By a rabid dog, from the looks of it.”
Rune’s head swung back and forth. “No. That wasn’t me. Whatever is there now is not by my hand. I left that place as untouched as I found it. It was all in order when I left.”
Wes seethed in a breath. “Shit.”
“Someone else was there.” Rune’s copper-green eyes went dark. “Did they find it?”
“No. We found it.”
Rune’s eyebrow’s arched. “You did? No—I covered that place from bottom brick to weather vane.”
“Your confidence in your thieving prowess aside, you wouldn’t have found it.”
“No?”
Wes shook his head. “A secret compartment behind the dry larder of all things.”
Rune rubbed the side of his face. “Tricky bastard.”
“Aye.”
“So, is it in your possession?”
“Laney has it for the time being. She’s turning it over to Mr. Filmore, but he’s not in town at the moment. And I can’t just take it from her.”
“Not in town? Mr. Filmore was the back-up plan if I couldn’t find it.”
“I know. And I don’t care for his absence.” Wes glanced over his shoulder at Laney. The apparent peace she’d felt when first approaching the pond had dissipated and she’d started pacing ten steps, back and forth along the water’s edge, tossing pebbles one by one from the palm of her hand into the pond. Rings from the plopped pebbles spread across the surface. “His clerk reported he should be returning this afternoon, so this whole mess will be done with for good today, with any luck.”
Rune nodded. “Keep me posted. I’ll accompany you to Seahorn Castle when you have it in hand.”
Wes started to turn away, but stopped, looking at Rune. “But check to see who else is in town that would know about the box—know about Morton’s death, the townhouse and Laney.”
“I’ll make some discreet inquires.”
Wes rolled his eyes and then