The Blood of a Baron - K.J. Jackson Page 0,45
like that.” He snapped his fingers. “I’ve seen it happen, time and again. The first time I saw it was on the Firehawk.”
“The ship you sailed on? You’ve known about the box for that long?” Her eyes narrowed at him. “It’s how you made your money, isn’t it?”
“It is. Captain Folback had the box in his possession for years. It brought the ship untold riches.”
“And now you want it for your own?”
He gave the slightest sigh, almost as if it pained him. “That, I decidedly do not want. Did you not hear me when I said it was cursed?”
Her right cheek pulled back. She had never believed in curses, in the twisted old biddies with their tarot cards and bowls of pungent charred hair. She never would have believed Wes did either, if not for the somber set of his eyes.
She took a deep breath, meeting his stare. “Cursed how?”
He started to pace in front of the bed. “It turns fortunes, multiplies them by nine every few months—probably more than that—as I have seen with my own eyes. Benefitted from. But the riches come at a price, and that price has been steep—madness, losing everything most dear, torture, death. Captain Folback died for it. His wife was tortured and killed for it.”
Her head jerked back. “That’s what you want for me—what you set upon Morty? Madness? Torture? Death? I know you wanted to crush me, Wes, but I never thought…”
His feet stopped, his hands curling into fists. “Dammit, Laney, stop—I don’t want to hurt you and you bloody well know that fact.”
“Do I?”
His mouth pulled into a hard line, his glare slicing her through. “Yes. You do know that fact, whether or not you choose to believe it.”
She wasn’t about to hear it.
She was done. Done with everything.
She thought she needed the box to get Morton’s fortune, but what she should have been doing for the past week was running as far and as fast as she could from Wes and everything that he touched.
Her arms in a flurry, she shoved the coverlet aside and jumped from the bed, dodging around him and going to the chest by the fire that she had laid her damp dress upon. Her fingers flung aside the folds of black dyed muslin and she found the pocket she’d left the box in.
She spun to Wes, shoving it at his chest. “You want it so badly? Here, take it.” She dropped the box and he only barely caught it before it cracked to the ground.
“I’m done—done with you, done with the box. I’m leaving.” She spun back to her dress, searching for the opening to slip it on.
Wes tossed the box onto the bed and moved to the back of her in an instant, his hand catching her dress from behind just as she lifted it above her head. “You don’t get to do that, Laney.”
Twisting around under his extended arms, her eyes shot daggers at him. “I’ll do what I please, thank you very much.” She tugged at her dress, determined to get it on her body and then get herself out the door.
“No, you won’t. It’s not safe.”
“Not safe?” She yanked at her dress. “You have the bloody box now—so it’s not safe for you. I’m washing my hands of the whole thing. It’s safe for me.”
“It’s not that easy, Laney. Whoever is after the box—after you, after me—they’re not going to believe you don’t have it.”
An exasperated growl from deep in her chest yelped into a scream. “I don’t care what they believe.”
“Laney—stop, dammit.” One of his hands dropped down from the dress and he grabbed the side of her neck, forcing her to look up at him. “Think—think about getting shoved over the side of the bridge—that man thought he had the box and then only wanted to kill you. And now think about your townhouse—they ripped it to shreds when they couldn’t find the box. So what do you think they’ll do to you if they get their hands on you and you don’t have the box?”
She gasped, his words a gut punch sending her legs weak. Her eyes closed. Breath after breath after breath she had to force into her lungs.
His fingertips dug into her neck. “What do you think is going to happen to you?”
Her eyes opened, her unfocused gaze travelling up Wes’s legs, his waist, his chest, his chin, to land on his hazel eyes. “They’ll rip me apart just like they did the beds.”
He gave her