Evan hid his smile and propelled them farther up the narrow path.
With no imagination at all, the entire town could be made to believe she was his newest conquest. Given the roguishness of his reputation and his well-documented lust for fresh blood, he probably would never have to be within shouting distance of the inquisitive blonde for the rumor to spread like pox at sea. The villain would believe Evan too wrapped up in a new skirt to be playing detective... and executioner. Then Evan would strike.
Blood for blood. Death for death.
Chapter 10
Evan let himself into Ollie’s library with the sneaking suspicion that Miss Stanton’s exaggerated flight from his side upon entering the premises was more ruse than reality, and that she lurked nearby in the shadows. He waited a brief moment on the other side of the door before giving it a sudden wrench open and launching himself into the hallway.
He was alone.
The prickles on the back of his neck continued to plague him. He narrowed his eyes at the web of passageways trickling outward like so many rivulets of blood. He had no reason to believe she’dmeantto spy on them earlier, particularly given the ghost-white terror in her expression when he’d flown into the hall, but something about the way she’d—
“Bothwick,” came Ollie’s coarse voice from across the room. “Get in or stay out.”
With misgivings, Evan returned inside. He locked the library door before crossing to the half-circle of black leather chairs facing the fire, and threw himself into the one farthest from Ollie so he could keep an eye on any subtle changes in expression.
“I haven’t come to kill you after all,” Evan offered by way of greeting.
“Thank God, or I’d have to say you’re not worth ship room anymore.” Ollie glanced up from his ledgers. “If you fancy a brandy, get it yourself.”
“I need your help. He’s gone.”
“Who? Timothy?” Ollie frowned, the deep lines that shadowed his face making his ugly face even uglier. “Didn’t you say he was dead?”
Evan’s stomach clenched at the memory. “The hole in his head gave that impression.”
“Then how—”
“I obviously don’t know. That’s why I’m here.”
“How the bloody hell wouldIknow?” The surprise in Ollie’s eyes was real. “Your brother was the least unsavory shipmate I’ve ever had. The only person I can imagine putting a bullet between his eyes is Timothy himself out of pure boredom.”
“Suggest it again and I’ll put a bullet between yours.”
Ollie glanced away, by all appearances suddenly fascinated by the crackling of the fire.
That was as close to an apology as the brute had ever given, so Evan forced himself to stay on course. He needed answers. Ollie hadn’t been present. But other handshadbeen on board. He just had to find them.
“Red wasn’t at the Shark’s Tooth this morning,” he said aloud.
“Well, hallelujah.” Ollie lowered his gaze to his ledger and ran a finger down one of the columns. “First time that sorry bastard hasn’t drunk himself into a stupor since his mouth let go of his mama’s pap.”
“Don’t you find that strange?” Evan insisted, leaning forward in his chair. Perhaps Red hadn’t been in the tavern because Red had left town. Perhaps the sotted smuggler had turned on Timothy and fled Bournemouth forever.
“Red’s a big enough imbecile to put a bullet in one of his own shipmates, but if you’re suggesting he also managed to hush up the crew and escape by himself with the spoils, boat and all”—Ollie scratched at his beard—“I’m going to be a bit skeptical.”
Hmmm. A valid point.
“Actually, the ship turned back up.” Evan noted the surprise in Ollie’s eyes at this bombshell. “But the last log page didn’t. Who do you think might have taken it?”
Ollie blanched behind the midnight blackness of his beard. “A madman, that’s who. Even Red’s not that stupid. Taking a single word from any of the captain’s log books is tantamount to signing a contract givin’ away your balls.” His big shoulders twitched in an involuntary shudder. “And before you ask, absolutely not. Timothy’s sucket-fed. He would never have come within paw’s reach of that book, much less ripped out an entire page.” Lines creased his forehead. “Makes me wonder if I have any business hauling anchor come Friday. Ship could be cursed.”
Evan turned his gaze to the fire and tried not to let Ollie’s palpable discomfiture poison his own determination to set sail. This weekend’s mission included a stop to the same port Timothy had been scheduled to visit before heading home. There was no way Evan could afford to miss an opportunity to look around, ask a few well-placed questions. Hehadto go. Despite the unnerving fact that he’d never seen Ollie look the slightest bit ruffled before.
For the record, Evan hadn’t been about to ask if Timothy were foolish enough to rip a page from the captain’s log. Everybody knew coming within touching distance of that book was the fastest way to walking the plank. If the captain had suspected Timothy capable of doing so, Timothy would’ve wound up dea—
Evan shot to his feet so fast Ollie fumbled with his ledgers and they spilled to the floor.
