Page 36 of Devil in Her Details

Rotten shite. “I did.”

Reaper’s gaze slid to the wreckage of the front of the shop. Broken glass. Four sprawling bodies. Blood staining the ground.

A mess.

“You let your guard down, frère.” Reaper accused. “If I hadn’t been here, you’d be dead.”

Damn it. “I know.”

From inside the shop, the faint tread of footsteps approached.

Dagger swirled instantly. Lilly. Her face pale from shock. His gaze swept over her—quick, thorough, searching for any sign of harm. Knowing he’d find none did nothing to untie the knot in his gut. He crossed over to her in big strides, blocking her view of the chaos outside. “Watch out for the glass. Don’t cut yourself.”

Reaper cleared his throat. “Take your little cat home, frère. I’ll get the boys and deal with this mayhem.”

His eyes probed hers, hating the fear he found there. He needed to get her out of here. “Then I’ll leave it to you.”

Chapter Eight

In twenty-two years and seven months, Lilly had never been so scared in her life. Not even when she’d learned that Calvington had tried to trap her into marriage, and that could be considered the most “excitement” she’d had in the way of troubles. She hadn’t even been scared when Calvington had shown up in Brighton.

But today . . .

Today she’d come to realize, even knowing that man’s character, just how she’d still underestimated his determination. This went far beyond mere persistence. This had transformed into some form of obsession.

And the part that sat cold in the pit of her belly was that she’d glimpsed the signs and dismissed them. She’d told herself . . . well, many things. She was imagining things. Being dramatic. It was nothing. That men like Calvington were all bluster and wounded pride. He’d move on when something shinier caught his attention. She’d been so certain of her own reading of the situation that she hadn’t stopped to consider that she might be wrong.

He’d sent ruffians to her shop.

Her shop was in shambles.

She remembered little of what transpired after the incident. Dagger had mostly blocked her view, but she had caught a glimpse of the pandemonium. Right before she’d been cocooned in an embrace and ushered into a one-horse chaise. Slowly, she blinked, the haze of shock finally parting for her to notice . . . Yes, they really were in a carriage. She was seated beside a large body, and his arm was anchored around her waist.

She glanced up at Dagger, only to find his brooding dark gaze already on her. Her lips parted to ask all the questions that were supposed to be swarming in her mind, but the only thing she could think to ask was, “Whose chaise is this?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” She furrowed her brow. “Do you mean you . . . stole this carriage?”

“I don’t steal,” he said softly. “I borrow.”

“Oh, Lord. You stole a carriage.” Under any other circumstances, Lilly might have argued with him over the distinction. Under these circumstances, sitting in a stolen—borrowed—chaise with her head still spinning and her hands not quite steady in her lap, she lacked the wit. She craned her neck to peek around the side of the chaise, cursing her sluggish movements. She didn’t recognize the neighborhood. “Where are we going?”

“My lodgings.”

“Why?” Lilly turned back to him. Her mind had drawn a blank.

He regarded her a moment before explaining, “We don’t know who might be waiting at yours, so I need to question the men that attacked your shop today. Is that all right? I can take you to Peregrine’s.”

“No!” Lilly exclaimed, flinching at the slight furrow that appeared between his brows. “Not Peregrine’s. Allie and Leo, they don’t know about my troubles. I don’t want to involve them in this. Calvington, that pest, sent those men, didn’t he?”

Dagger’s face darkened. “I believe so.”

“So he didn’t leave Brighton, then?”

“I suspect he did,” Dagger said honestly. “I also suspect he sent those men after me, not you.”

Lilly’s gaze widened, confusion drawing lines across her features. “But why? What on earth did you do to the man?”