Winter's Woman (The Wicked Winters #9) - Scarlett Scott Page 0,47

her.

“What is it?” Blade bit out.

Evie clambered out of the carriage as well, desperate for answers.

Mr. Winter offered her an abbreviated bow. “My lady. Forgive me, but there is a matter of grave import my brother and I must attend. Davy will show you inside to a private salon where you can make yourself comfortable.”

“You need not go to trouble on my behalf,” she said, hoping to garner some answers. To find Theo. “I only wish to speak to Theo.”

Her brother-in-law’s brow furrowed. “Theo?”

“Devil, apparently,” Blade said, raising a sardonic brow.

Mr. Winter muttered an epithet. “God willing, he shall speak with you soon enough. However, for the moment, I must insist you go with Davy.”

Something was wrong, Evie knew it.

“I am not going anywhere until you tell me what is happening,” she countered. “If Theo is in danger—”

“He is,” her brother-in-law interrupted. “And that is why you must go with Davy. Blade and I will do everything we can to help him. But for now, what he needs more than anything is for you to remain safe.”

A gasp tore from her, fear clawing her from within. “What is happening? Where is he?”

“Go with Davy,” her brother-in-law told her, his tone sharp enough for her to know he, too, feared whatever situation Theo had found himself in. “Devil will wish to know you are unharmed. Blade and I will do everything we can to bring him back to you.”

She swallowed, looking to the lad with the soiled face. He grinned, offering her his arm. “This way, m’lady.”

She glanced back at Addy’s husband, whose expression was grave.

“Trust me, Lady Evie. He is our brother, and we will do everything we can to bring him back to you. But time is wasting, and we must go.”

Of course. The bond between all the Winter siblings was incredibly strong. She knew that from Addy. And she knew it from Theo himself. Whatever the situation in which Theo had suddenly found himself embroiled, she had to trust her brother-in-law.

“Go to him, then,” she managed, barely avoiding bursting into fearful tears. The tremor in her voice said enough.

She took the filthy urchin’s proffered arm and allowed herself to be led into The Devil’s Spawn.

The plan had been simple.

But like all simple plans, it quickly become complicated. And then, it became downright deadly.

The barrel of a pistol in his lower back told Devil he’d found Paul Wilmore in the instant before the bastard’s growl was in his ear.

“Fine day to die, Winter.”

Icy dread slid through him.

Fucking hell.

This was not the way he had intended to cross paths with Wilmore. The bastard was supposed to have been within his private rooms, bedding one of his harlots. Obviously that bit of information had been wrong.

“Wilmore,” he bit out. “Coward’s way, is it?”

“Smart way, the way I sees it. End an enemy before ’e ends me.”

“I didn’t come here to kill you,” he gritted. Not entirely true. “If I wanted you dead, I’d have sent Blade to do the job, and you’d be bleeding on the floor as we speak.”

Also not complete truth. Blade was no stranger to killing. However, Devil wanted to be the one to defend Evie. To make certain she was safe. He had to do that for her, because he could never have her for himself.

“You’ll pardon me for not believin’ a word you say, Winter,” Wilmore spat.

Devil did not blame him. Wilmore was no fool, even if he was reckless and ruthless. Else he would not have been capable of scraping and clawing his way up in the East End to where he was now, flush enough with power that he dared to torment the two most powerful families in the rookeries.

Devil inclined his head, aware his position was precarious at best. Jasper Sutton was no solid ally, and although he had promised the aid of his men, Devil did not entirely trust him. And whilst he had sent Davy back to The Devil’s Spawn with an order to tell Blade and Dom what was unfolding, he was not certain the rascal would not find another tempting pocket to pick on his way home. Devil ought to have gone back to the hell himself to fetch his brothers, but Sutton had wanted to move on Wilmore immediately and Devil had not wanted his sometime nemesis to allow Wilmore to tip them the Dublin packet.

“You don’t have to believe me, Wilmore,” he said calmly now, taking care to remain immobile as his mind whirled and madly plotted