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Twenty-three

She hadliedto him.

Everything they had shared for weeks had been underscored by a goddamn lie.

Lisbeth—Bonnie Bess—was a fucking spy.

All of the things he had missed came back to him. Her caginess. Her skill with weapons. Being able to speak so many languages. The ease of the masks she wore. The stop at the customs house in Cedar Key. Had she passed on information there? The silent exchanges with the Duke and Duchess of Thornbury.Theyhad known her secret while she’d been so careful to keep him in the dark. Had the crew of theSyrenknown?

Raphael glanced over at her giant shadow, who fought to keep the tide of men from crushing her, but the look of astonishment on Smalls’s face hadn’t been fake. So maybe none of them had had any inkling. That knowledge mollified him slightly, not enough to erase the anger and the hurt, but enough to make them less raw. The fact that she’d deceived them didn’t stop Smalls and the others from forming a tight circle around her to defend her. They were clearly more forgiving than he was.

“Saint!” a voice called. It was Boisie, frantically beckoning to him from the rear door. “This way! We got them!”

Got who? His uncle? Dubois had fled at the first sign of commotion. Raphael blinked and limped his way toward the back entrance of the hall. His thigh ached from the deep puncture wound he’d sustained during the fight. The dirty, underhanded act hadn’t surprised him in the least. He pushed his way through the sea of men, worried about what had exploded and whether the building would be next.

Goddamn explosives. The ones that had reduced his ships to timber at the bottom of the sea in Tobago had been fast-burning and meticulously set along the hulls to cause maximum damage. He recalled the one in New York that had blown through a solid wall. These explosions had to have been her, too, up to her favorite kind of parlor tricks. What had she destroyed this time? More ships? Other buildings?

Thank God theVauquelinwas still in New York. He was certain that Thorin would be able to get it to leave or at least make sure she wasn’t stripped, considering the ship was listed in his name for exactly these kinds of reasons. Plausible deniability. Carr and his men had been more focused on arresting Raphael on false charges to be concerned with papers of ownership. And whoever the anonymous tip had been from had only mentioned the name Captain Saint.

“Where are the others?” he demanded when he caught up to Boisie, whose nose was still trickling blood. “Did she do that?”

He pulled a shamefaced look. “No, I tripped overGibbons when he crashed into Balzac, who she did kick in the balls. She was spitting mad, too. Tied us up good at gunpoint.”

Damn it, he should have taken or hidden her weapons. Raphael still wanted to know how she’d undone his knots. “How did you get loose?” he asked.

“Gibbons had a knife in his boot.” Boisie rubbed at his nose and winced. “Cut us free.”

Raphael followed him to where he ran on the side of the building. An old-looking barn was on fire as well as one of the docks on the far side of the island. Neither of which were high traffic areas. So she wasn’t completely heartless. He nearly crashed into Boisie, who had come to a stop near the east end of the building. “What the—”

Lisbeth and Smalls stood at gunpoint between four of his men.

Something inside of him roared at seeing anyone pointing a loaded weapon at her, but then the reminder of her betrayal—of herdishonesty—was like a gush of cold water, freezing him in his tracks.

She’d kissed him. Let him inside her. Pretended to care.

He’d told her he’d fallen in love with her, when everything he’d been falling for had been a lie. Bonnie Bess did not exist and Lisbeth was a subset of dozens of people. Hell, how could he have been so stupid? She was an espionage agent working for the American Treasury. A good one, too, because he never would have suspected in a million years.

Christ, he felt like a hundred times a fool.

“Let them go,” he said.

Boisie grunted. “Cap’n?”

“You heard me,” he growled, unable to look at her though he could feel her surprise. He didn’t want anything from her, not her gratitude, not her relief, nothing. “Release them.”

Bitterness swirled through him at the faint scent of orange blossoms and honey as she and Smalls hurried past for one of the docks on the east end after throwing an unreadable look at him. He had to force himself not to acknowledge her. But at the bend of the building, she paused for an infinitesimal moment, those green eyes crashing into his, the storm in them reminding him of when they’d been together.

Tell me something true, Viking.

I don’t want to say goodbye.

She had tried to tell him after they’d been intimate and he’d been too love-drunk to heed her words:There are things you don’t know about me.Clearly, he should have listened, but he was of the opinion that everyone had secrets. Hers, however, were monumental.

Indefensible.

“I’m sorry,” her beautiful mouth shaped, and then she was gone.

He hated the way his heart clenched as if trying to hold on to something impossible.