Page 52 of The Viscount of Shadows

Chapter 18

Danaher’s lair left much to be desired for a rookery boss’s hideaway. There were only a few chairs and a table located in the lean-to. But then, Danaher always had more than one place to scurry away to—like that rat he is.

Claudia took a moment to reflect that returning to Notting Dale to bring Oliver food was not the wisest choice. Her heart overrode all common sense. There was no use admonishing herself over it now as more immediate issues lay before her.

A tall young man shoved her toward one of the chairs. “Sit.”

“Good lookin’, ain’t he?” Danaher chortled roughly. “He’s mine, so it’s said. I’m bringin’ him along, like.”

Claudia turned to give the young man a thorough inspection. He was darkly handsome with wavy black hair. He appeared to be around twenty years old. No doubt Danaher had the same look when at that stage. “Run, lad. Get as far away from this man as you can.”

Danaher gave her a clout across the head. “No one asked you.”

Fair enough.

“Why take me? What do you care about me or what I’m doing?” Claudia asked.

“I don’t bloody care. Well, I did for a bit, for I had plans for you. And you mucked that up good and proper. Cost me good money.”

So, her mother had been correct in her assumption of Danaher. He would have put Claudia to work on the streets. She wound up on the streets anyway, but it had been on her terms, her control. A vast distinction from being under this monster’s thumb—and her mother had known it. So did Claudia, even at age sixteen.

“Anyways, I want that masked nutter,” Danaher continued. “Give him to me, and you’ll come to no harm.”

Claudia barked a caustic laugh. “Right. Don’t forget, I know you. You will pass me around to your men like I was a frosted cake on a silver tray. I’ve seen you do it before.”

Danaher stood closer, looming over her. “Have you, now? You were always sneakin’ about. Stickin’ your nose in. And you still are. Why are you in my territory?”

How much information to give him? Could she stall him enough until the sun set and the Met Police arrived? That is if Simpson got her note. The Galway Agency would not just shrug off her absence. They would first go to Oliver’s and, in finding him missing, work out a search strategy. If her note arrives at Cleveland Street, they will locate that letter at Simpson’s. There were many moving parts, but Claudia believed those mechanisms would click into place. Eventually.

“To watch you and plan my revenge,” she replied sarcastically.

“Give over. For what? I didn’t kill your mother,” Danaher snapped.

“You didn’t help her, either. A doctor, medicine, a better place to stay. You did none of it.”

Danaher grunted. “Why should I? Besides, it were obvious she were dyin’. Nothin’ I could do. I ask again, why’re you here?”

It was best to keep him talking and reveal enough truth to gain his interest and perhaps a sliver of trust. If memory served, Danaher could tell when people lied. “I am an investigator for a detective agency.”

“She’s a copper!” the young man exclaimed.

“Jaysus, Cillian. Agency, not police. Besides, there ain’t any women coppers on the streets.”

“Not yet,” Claudia muttered under her breath. “But there will be one day.”

Danaher growled in response and turned his attention back to Claudia. “Again, why’re you here in my territory?”

“A well-to-do client hired me to follow someone. He’s in with a bad crowd. They come here to partake in the various vices available. I am merely noting what the young man is up to and where. That is all.”

Danaher cocked one eyebrow, the one not bisected by that awful scar. He shrewdly turned over her words in his brain, ascertaining if she expressed the truth. “That’s why you wore costumes and the like. To make sure you’d blend in.”

“Yes, and I also didn’t want to run into you. Bad memories and all that.”

Danaher gave her another swat across the head, harder this time, enough that a burst of stars danced in her vision. “I gave you and your sick mother a roof over your head. And firewood. And shillings, besides. So, aye. I helped her.”

“As I said, not enough to make a difference. And my mother paid for that pittance many times over, and you know it,” Claudia spat. “You must realize your time as a rookery boss over these dwindling streets is ending. Soon, you will have power over no one at all. Still notching your kills with ace tattoos on your arm?”

Danaher chuckled cruelly. “Aye. Your mother must have told you that. I’ll be startin’ on the other arm soon enough. Don’t tempt me to add you and all.” His eyes narrowed as he assessed her closely. “You always were a clever girl with your snobby way of talkin’. I like that. You challenge me. We’d make a good team. In all ways.”