A Dangerous Liaison with Detective Lewis by Jillian Stone

Author:Jillian Stone [Stone, Jillian]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2012-08-27T21:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eighteen

“This safe house, as you call it, on Oswald Street. What is it exactly?” Fanny trotted up beside Rafe, who set a blistering pace along Clyde Street. The cobbled thoroughfare bustled with carts and pedestrians even at this wee hour of the morning.

“It’s a kind of hotel for detectives working undercover. A secure location for witnesses or undercover operatives in danger—usually on the run,” He glanced over at her.

Her brows knit together. “Like us.”

The tall masts and rigging of the merchant ships moored along the river wharf painted a macabre crisscross of webbing across the night sky. Rafe reached for her arm at the street corner. “When agents are found out, they need a place to hide until they can be brought safely into headquarters. The Yard men who work the Glasgow docks are after arms dealers and explosives traffickers, mostly. Deadly dangerous work. Two operatives were killed last year. A rat-catcher found the bodies in the hold of a ship, partially—” The last detail trailed off as he checked the sign post. “Hold on. Here we are, Oswald Street.” They made their way down a row of shop fronts and boardinghouses.

At No. 19, they entered the foyer of the residence and used the door knocker on the apartment lettered B.

“Will I have my own room?” She moistened her lips. “Will there be food and a bath?” Fanny allowed herself to hope for a few creature comforts.

“Perhaps hotel was the wrong choice of words.” Rafe’s mouth twitched. “More likely pub food brought in and a quick washup—we’ll see what can be done.” They waited in silence. And waited.

Rafe lifted the knocker and rapped again.

Fanny leaned in. “Do you suppose the house is not in use at the moment? Might there be a key we could ask for—from a neighbor?” She detected a whiff of fresh paint in the air and noted the clean runners on the polished wood floor. Perfectly respectable. She tilted her head back to check the brass letter again. “You did say ‘B’?”

“B as in bollocks.” Rafe tried the knob. Locked. He rapped on the door, this time with bare knuckles.

“Rude of Scotland Yard to direct us here and have no one to—what would you call it?”

“Bring us in. And rather typical, actually, the rudeness.” Rafe stepped away from the door, only to jerk back with a start. Fanny pivoted in the direction of his gaze. A rather swarthy-looking man dressed as a gentleman leaned against the rail post at the foot of the stairs. He pointed a pistol at them.

When Fanny opened her mouth to speak, Rafe grabbed her hand and shook his head. The man pushed off the banister. “If you would walk on ahead—this way.” He gestured with the gun—Fanny to go first and Rafe to follow after. They made their way down the corridor behind the stairs to a service entrance. The strange man crossed ahead and held the door open. He motioned them both inside.

They were in a kitchen, with a large kettle of water steaming on top of the stove.

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