Page 117 of To Catch A Rogue

Lark hesitated."He will not hurt you. I am certain of that."

Though she knew this man not at all, she couldn't believe the boy she'd once known could ever harm a woman. He moved toward her like a shark through the crowd and they parted, silken-clad wolves giving way to the sleek threat of death in their midst.

No more laughter. Not anymore.

"Congratulations," she told Nikolai, handing him the leash. "You're now the proud owner of Nadezhda. And she is not to be touched."

"I have no intention of touching her." He stared at the leash in his hand as if it was a snake. There was blood all over the slick leather coat he wore, but not even a single scratch.

He hadn't killed Berensky.

No, that would have been a kindness.

She could still hear the count screaming out the back, and everyone in the crowd gave Nikolai a wide berth. He might have done this as a kindness, but no one watching would ever think it a weakness, and she was fairly certain that was deliberate.

"You owe me some answers," Nikolai said coldly. "I will collect, but not tonight."

"Not tonight."

"Thank you, kind sir,"Nadezha signed, bowing at Nikolai's feet.

"Don't thank me," he said, looking horrified by her gratitude. "It was a transaction, nothing else. Get up. We need to get out of here. Chiyoh."

The Japanese woman appeared out of nowhere, a stretch of elegant red silk gown draped across one shoulder. It flowed down her legs and was bound by a black leather corset-style belt. Her silky raven hair was gathered back into a single braid, and she wore what appeared to be a katana at her hip.

"Here. Take... Nadezhda." Nikolai handed over the leash as if it burned him.

"Thank you," Lark said simply. Perhaps she'd been wrong. Perhaps there was some piece of her brother left inside him.

Coldness settled like a shroud over his expression. "Get out of my life. And keep your goddamned gratitude. I didn't do it for you."

Then he stalked through the crowd, leaving both Nadezhda and Chiyoh behind him.

Maybe not.

Chapter 22

"We survived," Charlie said breathlessly as the carriage rocked on its way back to the townhouse. He could scarcely believe it. "I didn't even lose any clothes."

Though it had been close there at one stage.

"What little there is of them," Lark murmured, as if sensing his need to break the ice in the carriage. She screwed the lid back on the flask of blood he'd given her.

He'd been two seconds away from planting Lady Kirinov a facer when Lark came blazing out of nowhere, proclaiming he belonged to her.

She'd saved the day and stopped him from blowing their cover.

And then she'd murdered the hell out of that smirking bitch who'd looked at Charlie like she wanted to eat him alive.

He'd always known she was a lethal little weapon, but it had been all he could do not to kiss her on her scowling mouth when she stared out over the crowd and asked if anyone else wanted to attempt to steal what belonged to her.

"Barely survived." Gemma looked furious. "Luther gave us bad intelligence."

"That's not entirely correct," Obsidian murmured, turning his face away from the window. "Not just bad information, but corrupted information. Balfour must know the identities of one—or more—of Malloryn's agents. He set a trap for us. We cannot trust anything Luther gives us from now on."

"So we're bloody blind, we have no leads on where Malloryn or Ava are, and our window of opportunity is narrowing every bloody day." Gemma tore the collar from her throat and hurled it at the floor. "He's outthinking us, he's outplaying us, and damned if I know what to do about it."

"You did your best, Gem." Obsidian slid his hand into hers and leaned down to kiss her lips.