Page 56 of The Swan Detective (The Swan Syndicate #2)
Beckworth and Michelson caught up to Stella as they approached the warehouse, but when she saw the two men standing next to the doors, she replaced her earlier grin with her all-business smile.
If there hadn’t been more than a dozen men hovering in the alley, she would have kissed Beckworth for getting her head back in the game.
She checked her pocket for the crossbow bolts she’d been given earlier and released a breath when she counted eight.
More than enough if they got into trouble—or so she hoped.
When Beckworth and Michelson slowed, she pushed past them.
It hadn’t been the plan, but she took their action as a sign that this was the time for her to lead.
The two men wore sour expressions and didn’t move when she reached them.
“I assume Captain Leclair is already here. Are you going to let me in, or do I require a special invitation?” She lifted her crossbow and cradled it against her chest. Just in case they hadn’t seen it.
“You’re late,” the one on the left said. He was a big bruiser with a crooked nose and scraggly beard, but he carried two pistols, one on each thigh. No doubt he had a dagger or two in his jacket, or maybe a boot.
She sneered at him. “A woman’s prerogative.” When neither man moved, she shrugged. “I went to a lot of trouble for this meeting, but if the captain’s no longer interested, then so be it.” She turned and took several steps back the way they’d come, surprising Michelson but not Beckworth.
“Wait.”
This time when she turned, she wasn’t pleasant. “I’m not in the mood for your hogwash or your games.”
“Hollister, let her in.” The command was shouted from somewhere in the warehouse, but it didn’t sound like the captain’s voice.
Hollister spat on the ground before opening one of the doors.
She ignored him as she passed into the building but turned when she heard the unmistakable sound of flesh hitting flesh and the thud of something hitting the ground.
The something was a someone—Hollister—and he glowered as he got to his feet.
Beckworth stared down at him with a smug expression.
The man’s partner backed away, hands up.
Beckworth winked at her, and she nodded, doing her best not to grin like a lovestruck ninny. He was her hero.
She marched into the warehouse, quickly scanning the area as she’d been trained to do.
It was larger than the building where she’d first met Leclair, more similar in size and style to the warehouse the team used to monitor the clubhouse.
She glanced up to the landing where a couple of men stood by the railing.
If there were others, they would be hiding behind the closed doors of the three offices.
More than a dozen men were positioned around three sides of the building, leaving the side she’d come through with just the two men who’d been stationed at the door.
There were two closed doors at the front of the building, but they opened briefly for two men to step inside.
They were most likely put in place in case Stella came from the main street rather than the alley.
An empty wagon was positioned on the far side of the warehouse, led by two horses that twitched their tails and shuffled their feet.
There were stacks of crates and barrels to her right, still leaving the warehouse two-thirds empty.
The captain and his two bodyguards stood next to the crates with their arms folded across their chests.
Leclair frowned as he took in Stella, who still clutched the crossbow. “Sorry about my men. They get cantankerous when they have to wait.”
“His impatience has been dealt with.”
The captain looked beyond her as if concerned for his man.
“Oh, don’t worry. Other than his jaw, only his pride has been injured.”
“I don’t see a wagon.”
Straight to business. That was fine with her. The last thing she wanted was to carry on a loathsome conversation as if she liked this man. And if he wanted to play the annoyed game, then two could play.
“I want to see the jewelry first. Once I’ve determined it’s the merchandise I’m looking for, I’ll call for the wagon.”
The captain’s expression soured, and he started to say something, but instead shook his head as if giving in.
He stepped toward a short stack of crates, his two bodyguards just a step behind him.
She stopped a few feet shy of the crates and waited.
Leclair glanced around the warehouse before pulling out a purse-sized linen pouch.
He was surprisingly gentle when he opened it and laid out the four stolen pieces.
When the last piece, the diadem, was added to the others, he waved her closer.
“I’d prefer it if you took a couple of steps back.” She gave him a cross look. “We’re all friends here, right?”
His lips thinned, but he did as she asked.
Beckworth and Michelson remained close as she stepped up to the crate.
She kept the crossbow in her right hand and used her left to pick up each piece for inspection, though her gaze immediately landed on the necklace she’d last seen around Elizabeth’s neck.
All the pieces were accounted for, but she couldn’t stop admiring the amazing craftwork and intricate designs, which were even more impressive when the pieces were gathered together.
She turned to Beckworth. “They’re all here.” To the captain, she said, “I’ve brought six crates of French firearms to trade for these. If that’s acceptable, I’ll call for the wagon. It will only take a few minutes.”
When the captain nodded, seeming more relaxed, Beckworth waved to the back of the building.
She didn’t need to look at him to confirm that Leclair planned on double-crossing them.
They’d expected it, and when the captain didn’t question the number of crates in exchange for the jewelry, it only validated their suspicions.
She remained by the jewelry, unwilling to let it out of her sight while they waited. Beckworth and Michelson stuck close as the men they’d brought quietly repositioned themselves inside the building, a couple of them moving far enough in to keep an eye on the men on the second floor.
“Where did you get the rifles?” Leclair asked.
Stella suspected he didn’t expect a truthful answer and was only filling the silence occasionally disturbed by the soft rustling of the horses. “I have a contact on the north shore of France.”
“And they’re reliable?
She shrugged, trying to remember, to no avail, what, if anything, she’d told McDuff. “They have been for the last several months.” The only thing she recalled telling McDuff was her story of how she came to England, which hadn’t been that long ago, so her answer seemed reasonable.
The captain’s gaze turned unfocused, and she wondered if he was having the same wet dreams Cheval had about stealing her contacts. Fat chance, but she couldn’t blame him for considering it.
The sound of approaching hooves made everyone straighten. Game on.
Stella took a step closer to the jewelry but turned to face the back door while keeping an eye on the captain. His focus was fully engaged on the doors, and he licked his lips in anticipation. However, she didn’t miss the bodyguard on his left who inched in the direction of the jewelry.
The back doors opened wider to allow the wagon through.
The same two men were on the bench—one driving and one gripping his rifle.
But the back of the wagon no longer held just the crates of firearms. Six men, all with rifles, were positioned in the back.
Two of them trained their weapons on the second-floor landing, while the other four pointed their rifles toward the front of the building at the captain’s men.
Leclair nodded to one of his men, who approached the wagon. Lando, who’d walked beside it as it entered, waited at the back of the wagon and lifted the tarp covering the crates. He pried open one of the lids, which Stella could only tell by the creak of wood rubbing against nails.
When all six crates had been checked, the captain’s man nodded that the inventory checked out. He helped Lando pull the tarp off the crates before they both stepped back.
The captain waved his wagon forward, and several men walked with it, most likely the muscle to move the crates.
Stella leaned her crossbow against one of the crates and took the liberty of picking up the pouch to put the jewelry back in.
She tensed when the captain approached but managed to get a brooch tucked inside.
“There’s one more thing before we conclude our deal.” He barely got the words out when shouting came from the back of the building.
“We’ve been betrayed. Trouble coming.” The voice that came from the back of the building was distinctly Fitz.
Stella glared at the captain, but he appeared as shocked as she did.
He might have been faking it, but she didn’t think so.
He turned his attention to the doors as he stepped back.
Hensley’s men held their positions inside the wagon, keeping their guns trained on the men upstairs and Leclair’s men who’d followed the empty wagon.
Everyone else was looking around, wondering what the hell was going on.
The front doors were flung open as men streamed in, firing weapons. She tried to count how many before she was dragged to the ground as return shots echoed through the building. Horses screamed from the chaos as men attempted to find cover.
The captain’s bodyguards shielded Leclair.
“Michelson, stay behind the crates with Stella.” Beckworth’s following words were drowned out by the weapons fire.
Stella was already moving behind the crates but had to backtrack to where she’d left her crossbow. When she felt resistance, she turned to see Michelson handing her the weapon. She took it, glancing back to Beckworth, but he was already on the move, ducking low, his pistol in hand.