Page 47 of The Truth Serum (My Lady’s Potions #2)

T he easiest thing Nate had to do all day was transform into a Frenchman. He donned a hat, rubbed dirt on his face, then adopted a hunching gait and a scowl.

He’d feared that the Frenchmen wouldn’t give up the meeting location, but a stroke of luck made that easy.

They’d written it out on a crude map, complete with the time and amount of money.

Indeed, it was so lucky that Major Vance began to grumble.

He distrusted easy things. Nate, however, never questioned luck. He just thanked it with all his heart.

Very soon, the two of them headed to the meeting place. Nate let the major lead, doing his best to hide in the background in case Becca couldn’t keep the baron occupied at the ball. Lord Benedict stayed even further behind, waiting in the shadows because he was a good shot, but a bad brawler.

Normally, Nate would have arrived early. He would have liked to scout the area, but there wasn’t time. Indeed, they were very nearly late by the time everything was sorted. And so he went in with as many knives as he could hide on his body. Guns were too uncertain in close quarters.

They entered the warehouse, swaggering with confidence that was a complete lie, only to have all of it dissolve the moment he saw the English traitors.

The baron’s half-brother was no surprise.

They’d already put together the connection to Corporal Skewes, but it was nice to have the guess confirmed.

It was seeing Fletcher that set Nate back on his heels.

Nate had assumed Fletcher wasn’t deeply involved yet, but obviously he was wrong.

He wasn’t completely surprised, but he knew this would destroy Becca.

For all his faults, Fletcher was still her brother, and she loved him.

Nevertheless, Nate’s job was to stop England’s traitors. Brother or not, Fletcher was going to be arrested.

The major began the exchange, only for everyone to realize that Fletcher was brand new at this kind of thing. Or he was trying to show off for someone’s benefit. Either way, there was way too much posturing.

Fletcher crowed as he opened the first crate, talking about how superior the English rifles were to anything else the French had. Then he asked for the money, and the major tossed him the purse.

Fletcher made a show of looking at it, then he rocked back on his heels. “This’ll get you one crate,” he said, shoving the first crate forward. “The second will cost you.”

“That wasn’t the agreement,” the major growled.

“It is now,” Fletcher said, as he dropped his boot on top of the other crate. “You’ve got more on you. You Frenchies always do.”

Good God, how stupid could he be? Napoleon didn’t go about handing large purses to his smugglers, and no one shoved a box full of rifles forward then demanded more money. That was handing over weapons that could be turned against him.

The major shot Nate a look. It was the signal to end this farce. Between the two of them, they should be able to take down Fletcher and the Corporal. But then the unthinkable happened.

A woman’s scream split the air.

Becca!

He knew her voice immediately, even distorted in this warehouse. And then she bellowed, “Run!” before a sickening sound cut her off.

Chaos erupted. Corporal Skewes took off with the major sprinting right after him.

“Stop!” the major bellowed, just as a shot rang out in the warehouse.

It was Lord Benedict shooting from his hiding place, and the corporal let out a high-pitched scream.

Nate didn’t bother to watch. He was already running straight for Becca.

He had to skirt around crates, listening for the sound of her—any sound—but there was too much chaos for him to hear anything else.

And too much stuff in the way for him to find her.

“Becca!” he called, only to hear her cry out in pain.

Where was she? And what the hell was she doing here?

So many thoughts crowded in. He couldn’t fight them all as he searched for her. She couldn’t be involved, could she? He couldn’t believe it. But her brother was here. Had Fletcher dragged her in? But… No… And…

Damn it all to hell! Where was she?

He heard a muffled sound from his left. It was a heavy thud and a scramble as someone large ran away. The baron? Could be. It could also be Prinny, for all he could tell. Either way, he jumped over several bolts of fabric only to see the one thing he feared.

Becca. Crumpled to the floor, surrounded by blood.