Stolen Petals

Stolen Petals

By

Katherine McIntyre

Copyright © 2015 by Katherine McIntyre
All rights reserved.

This book or any portion thereof
may not be reproduced or used in

any manner whatsoever without the

express written permission of the publisher
except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

Printed in the United States of America

Cover Art by Victoria Miller

Edited by Jayne Wolf

First Printing, 2015

Dedication
:

First off, to my friends and family for their constant support. Secondly, to the wonderful staff of Breathless Press, my phenomenal editor, Jayne Wolf, and the lovely cover artist Victoria Miller. I also want to thank Adrienne and Rob for being my beta-readers for this story.

Chapter One

He'd been sitting at the edge of her bar for the past hour.

The man was all broad shoulders and long limbs with walnut hair longer and shaggier than proper. Wearing a creased, half-open, button-down shirt, he didn't fit in amongst the polished mahogany countertops or the citrine drop lamps dangling from the ceilings. He'd ordered a pint and paid with coin, another faux pas on this side of town. Viola lifted an eyebrow as she noted his dirty fingerprints smudging her glasses. Her other customers avoided him on principle. A couple of gentlemen clustered by the humming fireplace and a dapper couple in the corner whispered to one another while reclining on the plush green chairs of Viola's establishment. Class was one thing the Ivory Cup overflowed with.

His silence unsettled her. After all, a man like him wouldn't dare step foot in her establishment without reason and given the air of familiarity about him, Viola had the feeling she wouldn't like said reason. He glanced up, his hazel eyes sparking as they locked with hers. She kept her chin high and looked away, tucking a stray strand of hair back into her bun. A hiss cut through the quiet atmosphere from the mechanical bottle that sprayed rosewater through the air. Entertaining his company would only bring a bad name to the Ivory Cup and serve a waste of her time and efforts.

The bell on the door tinkled as a tall gentleman stepped in, his silver-threaded waistcoat and signet rings marking him as money. Viola leaned forward, angling so the creamy skin of her chest displayed in full view and a dazzling smile curved her scarlet lips. The man approached the bar and rested his cane on the side. He scanned her over, pausing on her assets.

"What would you like to drink tonight, sir?" She grabbed a tumbler, anticipating the usual kind his sort ordered.

"Gin on the rocks." He sat on the stool and passed her a folded bill as she dispensed the dew. She didn't ask if he wanted change—in a place like this, it would be unseemly.

The gentleman focused his attention on his gin. However, the ruffian at the edge of the bar took note of the newcomer. His gaze slid her way as he feigned inattention. Right. The lager he drank wasn't groundbreaking enough to spend this long nursing it. Questions of what he wanted and why he lingered here broiled through her mind, but Viola, if anything, was patient. She could wait and besides, she had more important things to do. After all, she hadn't grilled this new gentleman yet, and he was the exact type to have the information she sought. Pulling out a holo, she began jotting down a list of items to restock while keeping her attention on her patrons.

She'd been fishing all night for any hearsay on Claude Brownetree. The recluse younger brother of Lord Brownetree had racked himself a hefty gambling debt, leaving an enormous bounty on his head. Why? Because of his station, he was untouchable. Any capture had to involve discretion unless you wanted to be beaten down by Brownetree's guard.

Viola hadn't been in the game this long by being sloppy. Her scores gained her this bar, and the bar made her job easier. However, her status meant the occasional unmannered boor straggling into her business. Other bounty hunters hunted for the information that flowed through the Ivory Cup or looked to make trouble for her. Either way, Hazel Eyes would cause problems.

"Will you be attending Lady Henrietta's upcoming soiree? It's all the talk around Islington." She twirled one of her curls.

The gentleman parted with his gin and regarded her question. "Haven't seen her in awhile, so I suppose I'll have to pay my respects."

"I heard it's going to be quite the scene. All the noble families are going." Viola kept the conversation flowing while topping off his gin. "Colstons, Kirklands, Stanburys and Brownetrees..." she trailed off, keeping close watch to the gentleman's eyes. His expression didn't change.

"Yes, yes, the whole lot of them. Including their brats and all the nonsense that entails," he grumbled and returned to his drink. Knowing nobles the way she did, any misinformation on her part and he wouldn't hesitate to correct her.

"Well, I'll be tending the bar there, so hopefully I can prepare you something to take the edge off." She flashed him an extra-wide smile before strolling back to the bottles in stock, making the conversation as forgettable as possible. The tight gray cincher around her waist regulated her breaths while doing lovely things to her figure. Her petticoats swished at her ankles and lace itched her bosom. Didn't dare scratch though, not in front of clientele like them.

"Barkeep, I'll take another," the chap from the opposite end announced. His loud voice hung in the air like noxious perfume and drew the eye of every patron in the bar. Viola held her sigh back, grabbed a glass, and poured. As she handed over his pint, his rough fingers brushed against hers.

He'd slipped her a piece of parchment.
Curious.

Before she could retreat back to the other end of the bar, he stood, chugged his lager, and plunked the empty glass back down.

"Thank you kindly, madam." He tipped his tattered top hat her way, a cheeky grin on his face. Whistling, the man walked out the door. Grimaces weighted the faces of gentlemen and ladies alike in the wake of his departure.

Viola swiped his glass and made a retreat back to the washroom. Carefully, she unfolded the parchment.

Meet me at the Rusty Scupper tomorrow evening. You want word on Brownetree's brother? I've got it.

—The Fox

Damn and double damn.

While the run-down tavern, the Rusty Scupper, was the last place a lady should dally, the opportunity was too good to pass. She'd been on this bounty for months and couldn't let this chance slip. Viola focused on the name. Should've recognized the scoundrel.

A smile curved her lips. No, she couldn't pass up this opportunity. Under her alias, the Brass Violet, she'd maintained a healthy competition with most, but none as much as the Fox. Like his namesake, he snuck in and snatched her targets before she had the chance to nab them. He stole the pickings of others, especially hers, for his own entertainment. So why the peace offering? If he had information, he wouldn't share it unless he needed something from her. Which meant this bounty was about to get interesting.

Chapter Two

The next night, Viola adjusted her burnished chocolate brown corset in front of the mirror. A dim light overhead came from the desk lamp she kept by her mirror to examine details. Her bodice dagger slid into place, as were the ones tucked inside her boots. Her custom-made garters held five to six vials each of whatever latest poison she'd concocted, and although the term made her upper lip curl, her herbal blends couldn't be termed anything else. In her field, one could never be too prepared, especially when trudging through the worst district in New Londo
n
—
Shantytown.

She kept her ashy curls pulled back with a rose-shaped brass fascinator. Like most of the accessories she owned, upon flipping the switch, the handy gadget clicked together to form a knife. The brown in her dress brought out the green in her eyes and she'd powdered her face to perfection. Beauty was a weapon as well, one Viola enjoyed wielding. Even for the undeserving.

Grabbing a shawl and purse, she stepped out onto the cobbled street, winding her way toward that tragedy of a bar.

Some neon signs were on for the night, although most places preferred the cheaper illumination of gas lamps. Dozens of them lit the city streets, coating the cobblestones with a greenish, subterranean hue. Smoke from the industrial complexes rose to the sky in thick, choking tufts, like an attempt to snuff out the stars. A rat scurried around her heels and several crows cawed overhead.

Shouts from several streets over sent her into alert mode, but she kept walking forward. Paying attention to the lowlifes would give them more reason to come after her. Besides, she'd hear any coming her way well in advance. Keen senses came after years of training.

The Rusty Scupper's sign splayed out in lurid red neons with the same tackiness as the buildings out in the gambling mecca, Reno. The smell of garbage, stew, and cheap timber wafted out from the sallow lit building. Scratchy sounds from an old jukebox filtered through the holes in the walls and sludge dripped along the brick exterior. Viola's upper lip curled but she strolled inside as if she owned the place. No matter what station one held, confidence was everything.

Sounds of a downtown bar washed over her—grunts, raucous laughter, and thuds from drinks dropping and fists slinging. Viola wasted no time associating with the denizens of the bar or bartender. Instead, she made a beeline to the back where a familiar hazel-eyed rogue sat with two drinks already on the table. Not like she wasn't paying attention to the activity in the bar—only a fool wouldn't—she just didn't care. To the right, men brawled and at least seven pairs of eyes honed in on her, most with hungry expressions. However, hands weren't moving for their weapons, so she wasn't concerned.

"I see you've taken it upon yourself to order for me." Viola folded her arms across her chest as she came to a halt in front of the Fox.

He lifted the second glass of the emerald elixir and gave her the sort of smile that would send most women reeling. She accepted with a polite nod and held it to her nose, pretending to take in the aroma. The drink was the correct green for absinthe whereas a sedative would make it milkier. Bitter, sweet licorice wafted up from the liquid, but no other herbal fragrance stood out. Shouldn't be spiked.

She took the first sip as she sat, aware he wouldn't pull out the seat for her. The absinthe rolled across her tongue, allowing her to relax.

"Edward Van Clef at your service." He tipped his hat, a crooked tooth poking out with his grin.

"Viola Embrees." She pursed her lips. The scoundrel had already found her establishment, so false names were pointless. He sat in silence, his eyes honing in on her painted lips and resting on her porcelain chest. Ever the gentleman. Up close, Edward wasn't unattractive. Boorish and ragged, yes, but he had deep-set eyes and a long chin that widened with his smile. Perhaps if he stumbled onto a bath and a tailor he could even be considered handsome. Viola sipped the absinthe again to cover up her stare.

"I'm relieved you decided to indulge my request." His voice lowered with a hint of glibness. "I was concerned you'd toss the invitation considering who it was from. Not that I haven't enjoyed our competition in the past, I jus
t
—
" he halted, frowned, and lifted the cup to his lips.

Viola waited for him to continue. What about this bounty did Fox want so badly he'd work with her? The question enflamed her curiosity like nothing else.

"Are you going to get to the point?" Viola murmured into her drink. "After all, why bother with niceties given the illustrious–history–that we've managed to build with barely a glimpse of one another."

His grin widened. "My dear, business is business. I can't help but fall victim to deceit and manipulation as any addict can stave off gambling."

"You sell your company so well." Viola cast a glance over to the waitresses who wandered through, ranging from bony to sallow. Most of these women hadn't seen better days and never would. Every single one of them had the same haunted look of women from Shantytown, that world weariness. A taller waitress with a bush of ratty black hair brushed by her and Viola didn't miss the venom in the woman's eyes. She returned the glare with similar coldness. Envy her all they wanted, but she'd fought her way out and would never, ever return.

"Who needs to sell a point when I've got what you want?" He ran the tip of his tongue over his teeth. Of all the insufferable men around, she was saddled with one of the worst.

"That all depends. If you aren't offering anything enticing, then you needn't try to sell your deficiencies. I'll walk away." She fixed him with her gaze, insinuating her point. There would be no sabotage or hidden knives slung because she already packed her own.

"You wound me, madam. Would I waste your time?" He placed a hand over his chest while his teasing smile reflected in his eyes.

"Yes. You would. And you'd revel in the fact you got me to tromp down here for a drink."

He burst into laughter, loud and sudden, but unlike the Ivory Cup, no one batted an eye in this place.

"How'd you get to know me so well, Miss Embrees?" He finished off his drink, wiping his mouth with his threadbare sleeve.

"Hm." She tapped a finger against her chin. "Maybe when you stole my mark in Prague, or perhaps the intercept of my charge, Jenny Heartswaith?"

"Come now, you can't blame me for that one. The poor girl was enamored."

"Can't I? A mere day away from the docks and I walk in to find you and my charge indecent."

The grin on his face widened and a crooked tooth emerged. "We sort of tumbled into one another. Besides, I gave you a fair fight."

"You grabbed her and dropped out the window before I could even throw my knife," Viola ground out. The entire time, Edward watched her, eyes twinkling and his expression carefree as a sunny day. His hands were never still, whether he flipped the silverware back and forth or drummed his fingers on the table. He buzzed with a sort of restless, nervous energy despite the calm on his face.

"Well what if I happened to stumble onto the plans for Henrietta's mansion? Would that perhaps make it up to you?" He leaned back, placing his hands behind his head.

How had he gotten the exact thing she'd been looking for? She'd hit up her contacts and even used her invitation to inquire from a professional standpoint, but they had given her information on her workspace, nothing more. The biggest question was—what did he want in return? With the plans to the mansion, he could sneak in and out on his own accord. Viola adjusted in her seat, the boning of the corset digging into her hips.

"Now, we both know in this business that nothing comes without a price, so what is yours?"

"Hire me," he said, point blank.

She blinked several times, not quite sure how to respond. Her confusion must've been apparent, for seconds later he began explaining.

"Dear lady, you have the perfect excuse to be in the manor that night while I have the plans to said manor. Alone, Brownetree's guards and the complexity of the mansion could turn this excursion more risky than worthwhile, but together this task would be piss in the pond."

"Not a fan of extra legwork?" Viola pursed her lips.

Edward leered. "Why, I'm quite the fan of legwork, however, with a bounty this big and this difficult, going alone is either a waste of resources or suicide."

Viola tightened her shawl around her shoulders. Behind closed doors, she'd found a fair number of men to tango with, but the days of flaunting her sexuality around like he did had passed. Lifting her glass of absinthe, she stared into the green depths, an old familiar friend. She hadn't partnered with anyone in years. Not only did it cut the reward in half—and bounty hunters were a greedy lo
t
—
but it was risky. Her business lent itself to untrustworthy men and women.

The Fox was a well known double dealer, to the point where she expected duplicity. However, it couldn't hurt to go along with the charade, at least until she slipped her hands on the plans. Then she could backstab him before he could do the same to her.

"Fine. As much as it pains me to work with you, your argument makes sense. We have a deal."

"Shake on it?" Edward thrust his hand forward. Viola gave him a look and shook her head. Who knew where those fingers had been or what filthy things his hands had done. He shrugged, an irritating grin still on his face. "Fine, milady. We're in agreement then. Now, I don't suppose I have to tell you what the next step is?"

She forced a grin. "Only if you suppose I gained my reputation on luck, not sweat and blood. Send word for me once you have a time and I'll be there." If she spent any more time in his company, she'd be ready to snap necks. Something about him crawled under her skin and reminded her of the past she'd buried. He stared her down like he knew they were both from the mud, but unlike her, he was ready to roll around in it.

Her jaw tightened and she finished her absinthe in a gulp. Edward watched, with those teasing, knowing eyes on her every move. The surrounding patrons grew rowdier as the night wore on. This sort of hour, the drink would get to their heads and bad decisions began to happen. Already, a couple men shouted, the veins in their necks bulging and their faces growing redder by the second. The barmaids maneuvered around them, trying to serve food and drink without getting a fist to the back or an elbow in the side. Wariness painted every face of those women and Viola couldn't blame them.

"If you'll excuse me, sir, I'll be departing now. The hour's much too late for me to be wandering around town." Viola curtsied, not because he deserved her manners, but more because she would be proper regardless. If she stayed any longer, she'd be around when thugs started slinging punches, and that didn't appeal to her.

To her surprise, Edward stood as well. "And what kind of cad would I be if I didn't see you home?"

"Please don't trouble yourself," she demurred. Of course, now he wanted to play the gentleman.

"No trouble at all." He extended his arm out. Viola kept her sigh in and slipped her arm around his. Even against the thick fabric of his navy coat, his hard muscles were defined and tensed for action. Underneath her petticoats, she was in similar form, as anyone would be with proper training. Edward strutted as they strolled through the bar, drawing in stares to Viola's dismay. In a place like this, she preferred to avoid attention, and yet all the Fox wanted to do was tromp around in the flashiest way possible.

Upon stepping out into the night, the cool breeze caressed her face, carrying with it the smell of rotting leaves. Out of the slums and into the gutter. Overhead the sliver of a moon barely illuminated anything and shadows slunk on every corner. The sound of gunfire exploded as they walked past the alleyways. If she had to guess, ruffians from the airship docks had gotten into another tiff.

"Lovely weather tonight," Edward commented. Strands of hair poked out from under his ragged top hat.

"Ignore the reek of feces in the air, the bloodstains on the ground, and you have yourself a glorious night." Viola's voice dripped with sarcasm.

Edward's eyebrows rose. "Was that a joke? An actual sense of humor from the ice queen? I don't know whether to be impressed or appalled."

Viola shook her head to hide the smile rising to her face. As they walked along the cobblestone, rats scurried back and forth. Very few autocarts ran late at night and without the hiss and clink of their mechanisms, the streets remained quieter. Edward shifted his arm and the movement caught a glint from the gas lamps lining the street side. The ring on his finger had sparkled under the light, a pure gold piece laced with a red, blue, and white emblem. Viola committed it to memory. With as little as she knew about the man, any bit of information helped.

She gave his arm a slight tug for direction once they reached the side streets. He complied without argument and picked up quite easily. In the alleys, he grew quiet as did she. These areas, anyone could jump you. At the end of Waterside Street, her apartment stood out, a rose-colored nimbus still lit in the globe lamp.

"Let me guess, the place with the touch of class is yours." Edward pointed. "Although I'm surprised you live in this section of town."

Embarrassment pinked her cheeks. Of course, for all the show she put on, she still hadn't made it out of Shantytown. "Better place to stake out targets. Also, not as much upkeep when I'm out after a bounty." The excuses dried on her lips like the stale reminder of what they were. "Well, thank you for the walk home. I'll await your message for the next rendezvous," she said stiffly, pulling away from him.