Stolen Petals (3 page)

"If you'd like a cup of tea, why don't we go to Rosie's Parlor up the street? The night is young and I could use a companion," Edward offered.

Viola paused, not sure how to respond. She searched his face for darker intent, but he continued to project the same glibness he'd had since they first met. No one was here to question her propriety if she turned him down and yet, spending more time with the man would set her nerves aflame. Her curiosity piqued at the invitation, the same way it had when he wanted to work together. Why?

"I suppose it'd be rude of me to turn you down." She sighed. He offered his arm and she slipped hers through as they walked off to Rosie's.

Chapter Four

Edward held the door open and they stepped into the parlor. While not the mahogany and green velvet settings of her Ivory Bar, Rosie's managed to contain some charm of its own. Sand-colored planks lined the floors and an array of open-faced clocks decorated every wall. A brass swirl embellishment stood out against the black backdrop, giving the rooms a classy overlay. Not old wealth clientele like her bar entertained, but not ruffian scum either.

The old crone behind the counter had a hard glint in her eyes, one not unlike the mask Viola wore. Her wide shoulders and brawny arms suggested a life of hard work and the scars along her nose as well as the nick in her ear filled in the blanks. This wasn't your average establishment, but a bounty site. The old woman behind the bar was a collector and a supplier for jobs—in other words, retired.

"Maude, always a pleasure." Edward turned on his charm for the old woman.

She let out a snort and crossed her arms over her chest. "What trouble are you bringing into my bar now?"

"Cruel barbs. Would I do that? This is my companion for the evening, Viola Embrees."

Maude eyed her down with the disdain reserved for strumpets. As if she wasn't already regretting her decision to accompany Mr. Van Clef for tea.

Viola arched her back. "You might know me as the Brass Violet."

Maude's eyes widening a fraction was the sole reaction she let slip.

"So sweet of Mr. Van Clef to take me to meet his handler." Viola gave a wide smile, filled with sugar.

Edward shook his head, a grin on his lips. "Your powers of perception never fail to impress me, Miss Embrees."

"Perceptive or not, I was promised a cup of tea and I'm hoping you'll deliver."

Maude flipped the kettle on as a smirk rose to her face. "Found yourself a sassy one, eh Van Clef?"

Viola crossed her arms over her chest. "He hasn't found himself anything except for a partner in a mutual...endeavor. Once we're done, I won't see him again."

"That's how he takes them," Maude said cryptically. Viola frowned. Was she referencing the man's notorious one-night stands or implying he'd partnered with bounty hunters before? Uneasiness settled into her stomach like sour ale.

"While I'm always a fan of attention from two beautiful ladies, let's stop talking about me and have a seat. Could you bring us each a cup of tea and some biscuits?"

Maude responded with a nod.

Viola took a seat at one of the brass tables scattered around the place and let out a deep breath. While most of the time she wore her mask, the rare times she could take it off filled her with a thick gasp of relief. In a bounty hunter bar she didn't have to worry about feeling underdressed since anyone coming through would recognize their attire.

Edward slid into the opposite seat, stretching his arms over his head as he relaxed. "Cup of tea would hit the spot right now after all that tramping through the woodlands," he mentioned.

"And am I to believe this is something you do often? Tramp through the woods with young ladies?"             

A wicked grin stretched across his face. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

She affected a grimace. "Probably not. What I would like to know is what inspired you to work with a rival. After all these years of stealing my bounties, what made you want to do honest work?"

"I'd hardly call our field honest work." Edward reached out as Maude brought the tea over, taking his cup with those steady hands. "However, a bounty this big, even split, I could take it easy for awhile. And as you've noticed, I'm not one for risks or doing things the hard way."

Viola tapped her fingers along the table. Steam wafted up from the delicate black porcelain cup, the tea inside scorching. He withheld something, however, she couldn't pin down where his lies started and the truth began.

"Well then, partner," she enunciated, "if we're going to be working together, why not tell me something about the enigma known as the Fox? I suppose you were born and bred in an alleyway leading you to a life of crime and deceit?"

Edward took a sip of his tea before responding. "Dear lady, you think so little of me. You of all people should know better than to judge on appearance."

She fixed him with a stare but remained silent, waiting for an answer. They had worked in the same circles for years, yet here was her chance to learn more about the man she'd considered her rival. Viola could wait for a response—she was proficient in patience.

"You're not going to be satisfied until you know my whole lineage, right? Well, too bad for you, I like to leave ladies wanting. It keeps things interesting."

"Unless you'd prefer I keep my conception of you as a nameless scoundrel, I'd recommend some disclosure." She blew steam off her cup and attempted the first sip of scorching liquid. Crisp and clear, the way a good cuppa should be.

"Touche, dear madam."

She honed in on the ring he wore, remembering where she'd seen it before. "Perhaps start with what you had to do with the British military?" He coughed into his hand, but Viola didn't miss the way his eyes widened.

"Perceptive. So perceptive," he purred. Letting out a staged sigh, he continued, "You've caught me. I was a part of a mission that went afoul. We were supposed to protect a box, treasured by the crown. A crew of airship pirates stole our merchandise and the crown retired the survivors in secret for our shame."

Viola listened intently. She'd never heard any word of those events, however, his background explained his countenance. Why, despite his ragged stage of dress, he could still employ proper manners when he wanted to.

"I'm wondering how, if you were raised on military decorum, you can justify stealing others' bounties the way you do." She savored the sweetness of the honeyed earl grey as it warmed her stomach.

"When honor and glory get your squad killed and your brothers-in-arms shoved under the rug, you stop believing in the terms." His voice grew a notch deeper, which surprised her. For a slip of a second she glimpsed the real man behind his flippancy, the one who cared too much and who'd earned his scars. That, she could understand.

"But dear lady," he continued, "a trade is only fair. I've divulged and now it's your turn. What's the real reason you live in the Shanty district? Not the tripe about convenience you fed me last night."

She bit her lip. Her past held too many memories unsafe to let out of the tight box she'd stuffed them into. But he wasn't asking about her time at the Green Fairy's Den, a place that birthed haunted gazes and false faces. The scent of roses still made her gag after the clouds of perfume permeating the rooms there. Nor had he asked how she'd ended up on the streets. No need to delve deeper.

"I grew up in the Shanty district. I could afford to get out and really, I should," she said, her voice a shade quieter. "However, some part of me is still stuck there, refusing to leave. As if by staying I'm proving Shantytown can't dominate me." Her cheeks heated with embarrassment since she didn't want to look up and witness the disapproval or disdain sure to be in his eyes. Or worse, sympathy for the plight of poor Viola Embrees whose mother had been a whore.

"I thought there was more to you than some fawning lady. I'm glad to see I was right."

Her head jerked up in surprise at his words. A smile graced his lips and he gazed back at her with respect, something she'd never expected from the likes of him. Viola tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, feeling the heat rise to her cheeks again. This time not from shame.

"Well, this fawning lady prefers her etiquette. There's something comforting about the structure and order." Her palms pressed against the warm ceramic of her mug.

"Deadening you mean," he shot back. "A way to hide behind falsities and not deal with anything real or true. I've lived an ordered life, but I have to say I much prefer the chaos."

"Try coming from the slums. When you're born amongst chaos, it loses the appeal." She didn't meet his eyes, her temper rising. Instead, she drained the rest of her earl grey. If anything, this man knew each and every topic that struck a nerve.

Both sat in tense silence. Maude cleaned glasses from behind the bar and ignored them. Viola sucked in a deep breath.

"My apologies." Edward's voice broke through the quiet. "I don't presume to know what you've been through, so to pass judgment would be unfair."

Viola tilted her head to the side. An actual apology from the Fox?

"No matter. I expected such boorish behavior from you." A grin lingered on her face. His hazel eyes lit up at her attempt of levity.

"And one must exceed expectations, yes?" He scratched at the nape of his neck.

"Speaking of expectations, if you're working the event with me, even as a front, I expect your manners to be impeccable and your dress even better."

"Agh, taskmaster. You mean this isn't good enough?" He lifted his shirt, which had more than a few wrinkles in the fabric.

She leveled him with her flat gaze. "Not in the slightest."

"So serious," he teased. "Haven't you heard if you always frown you'll get wrinkles?"

Viola let out a sigh. "Thankfully my wrinkles will never be your concern."

"Not so." He flattened his palm on the table. "I am always concerned when it comes to the preservation of beauty." He sold his charm with one of those lopsided grins aimed her way. With roguish good looks like his, Viola could guarantee he'd dallied with more women than she wanted to count. Men like that tended to see her as a challenge. But she didn't want to be anyone's challenge—she wanted something real.

"You must be a darling at the whorehouses then, smitten with every rose who's lost her bud." Viola rolled her eyes, the sarcasm free flowing.

"They don't let me in anymore." Edward affected a sigh. "My poetry was scaring off the clientele."

That elicited a laugh from Viola, bitterer than she would've liked. Edward noticed too, with a quick glance her way.

Maude's dirty glares had increased more and more as time passed. Viola knew those looks, when you wanted to close up but several stragglers wouldn’t leave.

"While your company has been bearable," Viola allowed him a grin. "I believe I've got to be getting back since I'm sure the hour is late."

"Tired of my company already?" Edward sounded appalled. "You sure you wouldn't want to join me for a nightcap?"

Viola studied him. While he phrased the question innocently enough, the heat in his eyes gave him away. Liquid warmth flooded through her from his regard and a flush crept to her cheeks. She had to shut him down. Despite the lady façade, she was no blushing maiden and she'd lost the ability long ago to fall for the things a man would say or do to get her into bed.

"Oh darling, I don't slip into the sack with just anyone and when I do, I prefer gentlemen. I'm sure you've reeled in plenty of damsels with fire and swagger, but I've seen every trick in the book. I don't fall for them." A ripple of satisfaction flowed through her while watching him blink in surprise. Maybe he hadn't expected the bluntness or maybe he hadn't been turned down before, either way, she'd managed to trip up Edward Van Clef. A muffled chortle sounded from across the room as Maude tried to smother her laugh.

Edward stood and offered his arm. "Well, Miss Embrees, why don't I walk you to the station?" His familiar flippancy returned to his face, but didn't quite meet his eyes. Viola arched her eyebrow and accepted his arm. Had he expected her to jump into the sack with him or was he more frustrated she'd seen through his game? Men tried to peg women as fragile, but nothing was more breakable than a man's ego.

"Thank you for the courtesy, Mr. Van Clef." She smiled sweetly as they strode out of Rosie's and into the night.

Stray leaves blew through the streets and tall oaks cast larger, longer shadows across the asphalt. Despite her thin layers and the breeze, she still felt warm due to his proximity. He'd been rather quiet since they left the bar, which surprised her due to his tendency to prattle on. The silence changed him. With the way his eyebrows furrowed and he stared out into the distance, she caught a glimpse of the soldier he'd once been.

The moon was a slim crescent in the sky, leaving gas lamps the legwork of illuminating the streets. In the distance, the translucent hull of the sub-bus stood out like a wall of light cutting through the town. The pair of them in their black attire slunk across the pavement like shadows.

Viola opened her mouth, but after glancing Edward's way, she shut it. Had his goal in partnering with her been to get her into bed? Why else the unnatural quietness from him? If so, he could dream on. Annoyance danced across her skin in pinpricks. He'd said he preferred the real her, but the second she revealed the slightest bit he backed off—like all men did. The lady, the ideal demure creature who didn't have dark thoughts or an ounce of sass, that's what men wanted, at least for anything lasting. But a man wouldn't hesitate for a minute to take a harlot to bed. She lifted her chin high. Unfortunately for him, she was neither.

They stopped in front of the station doors. The interior lay empty since no one loitered around at this time of night.

"Thank you for walking me over." Viola looked him square in the eye. The silence hung pregnant between them as neither made a move to leave. She should leave. She should storm straight inside to the sub-bus, but something stayed her feet. Maybe the way the light of the moon glided across the street between them or the scent of gardenia and copper in the breeze. Maybe the way his hazel eyes fixed on her or how his passion hadn't dimmed, but instead had grown, tempered by his seriousness. Viola's heart beat in her ears and her chest swelled with every breath.