Jacquie D’Alessandro - Touch Me

Behind him, John Waverly, his superior, his mentor, a man he’d trusted and respected above all others, gave a humorless laugh. “We aren’t friends, Kilburn.”

Feeling as if he’d been gutted, Simon turned around. “Yes, that seems evident.”

“I told you not to move.”

“Yes, I know, but you needed me to turn around. A man can hardly shoot himself in the back, and I’m assuming that’s your plan-to shoot me, then place the gun in my lifeless hand to make it look as if I killed myself.”

“Over guilt for betraying your country and killing Ridgemoor,” Waverly agreed, as if they were discussing the weather. “Your suicide note will explain everything.”

“No one will believe that,” Simon said, wishing it were true, but knowing that it wasn’t. Forging a convincing note in Simon’s handwriting wouldn’t present a problem for a man of Waverly’s skills.

“Yes, they will.” Waverly stepped forward, his pistol aimed at Simon’s head, right where someone committing suicide would shoot. Waverly was an expert shot, but even if he wasn’t, it would be difficult to miss his target at such close range. Simon would be dead before he hit the floor.

“Murdering Ridgemoor wasn’t necessary, John.”

“I’m afraid it was. The possibility of him becoming the next prime minister was growing every day. His radical reforms would have ruined a number of very profitable enterprises for me. I have my finger in pies all over London. You’d be amazed at what a tidy sum I pull in from those workhouses alone. That bleeding heart, Ridgemoor, wanted to put an end to all that. All I needed was a few more years and I could have left the spy game an extremely wealthy man.”

Rage churned in Simon’s stomach. “From money gained by the suffering of others, suffering Ridgemoor wanted to see cease.”

Waverly shrugged. “Everyone suffers. Except perhaps people like you, those born to wealth and privilege. But neither your wealth nor your title will prevent you from suffering now, although I suppose you should thank me for ensuring that your end will be quick.”

“My gratitude knows no bounds.”

Waverly shook his head and made a tsk ing sound. “Sarcasm doesn’t become you, Simon.”

“Ridgemoor might not have become prime minister.”

“It didn’t matter. Even without gaining that position, he was far too influential. His suspicions of me were enough to make his elimination necessary. Unfortunately my first attempt on his life failed. When he confronted me, told me he not only had proof of my illegal activities, but that it was me who’d tried to kill him, his fate was sealed.”

“Proof he’d written in a letter.”

Waverly nodded. “Yes. Very annoying of him. In spite of my strong encouragement, he refused to tell me where the letter was. You were due to arrive at any moment and therefore I couldn’t afford to spend any more time with him. I’d convinced myself he was bluffing-until you came to me with your request for two weeks to prove your innocence. I knew the only way you could do so would be with that letter, that Ridgemoor must have been alive when you arrived and have told you about it.”

“So you followed me here.”

“Yes.” He made a disgusted sound. “I should have known he’d send the letter off to his whore for safekeeping.”

Simon’s every muscle tensed. “Mrs. Ralston knows nothing about this.”

“I disagree. She knows enough to have removed the letter from the puzzle box.”

Bloody hell. It was Waverly’s presence he’d sensed at the festival. Waverly who’d broken into Genevieve’s home and attacked Baxter. Simon’s stomach stopped churning and tightened into a knot. Unless he could convince Waverly Genevieve had no knowledge of the letter’s content, he knew the man would kill her. Before he could speak, Waverly said, “Don’t deny it, Kilburn. If you’d removed the letter, you wouldn’t still be here searching for it.”

“She did find the letter in the box,” Simon confirmed, “but she doesn’t know what the letter says.”

“If you’re trying to tell me she cannot read-”

“She can read, but Ridgemoor wrote it in code,” Simon improvised, although he suspected it was indeed true-Ridgemoor was an intelligent and cautious man. “She has no idea of the information it contains. It would read as nothing more than harmless words on the page to her.”

Waverly’s lips curved into an unpleasant smile. “Well, then. It will be a pleasure to convince her to turn the letter over to me.”

Simon swallowed the growl of icy rage that rushed into his throat. The thought of this monster going anywhere near Genevieve filled him with a dark violence he’d never before known. “She doesn’t have it. I do.”

Waverly’s smile vanished and his eyes narrowed to slits. “You’re lying. You’ve moved her into your house, and she’s now your whore instead of Ridgemoor’s. Clearly you’d say anything to protect her.”

It was true-he would say anything, do anything to ensure her safety. Swallowing the acid burning in his throat, he shrugged. “Your attack on her manservant provided an excellent excuse for me to get them both away from here, allowing me the freedom to search for the letter.” He paused, then added, “And I found it.”

Waverly studied him for several seconds. “Where is it?”

“In my waistcoat pocket.”

A combination of doubt and greed flickered in Waverly’s eyes. “Where did you find it?”

“The sitting room. Hidden behind a loose brick in the fireplace.”

Waverly’s shook his head. “You’re lying. I examined that fireplace and found nothing.”

Again Simon shrugged. “You didn’t have the time I did to devote to the task and the hiding place was easy to miss. I’d be delighted to show you the spot if you’d like.”

“Just give me the letter.”

“You told me not to move.”

Annoyance tightened Waverly’s expression. “Don’t play games with me, Kilburn. I could just shoot you then retrieve the letter from your pocket myself.”

“You could…but you don’t want to kill me until you know that I really have it. Because if I’m lying and I don’t, well, then I’d be dead and unable to tell you where it is.”

Waverly’s eyes went flat. “You’ll slowly reach one hand into your pocket and withdraw the letter. If you’ve lied to me not only will I shoot you, but I’ll see to it that your brother and sister don’t live long enough to attend your funeral.”

Waverly’s hand holding the pistol was perfectly steady and Simon knew his aim would be true. And that meant he had one only chance, one split second to save Genevieve and his family. Cold calm settled over him. He doubted he’d walk away from this alive, but he damn well intended to make sure Waverly didn’t either.

With his gaze locked on Waverly’s, Simon slowly reached into his waistcoat pocket and withdrew the folded piece of paper he’d taken from Genevieve’s bedchamber. Waverly’s eyes glittered and shifted to the letter. The hint of a self-satisfied smile whispered over his lips. Simon held out the paper. Then dropped it.

Waverly’s gaze followed the paper and Simon didn’t hesitate. One chance. One chance . With lightning speed he crouched down, slipped the knife from his boot, and let it fly. Waverly’s howl of rage was immediately followed by the deafening report of his pistol. Searing pain suffused Simon. He fell backwards and the world went black.

“HURRY, Baxter,” Genevieve urged as she made her way down the path. Her cottage was just around the curve and she quickened her stride, tension and unease gripping her increasingly with every step. The first mauve streaks of dawn had lightened the sky more than half an hour ago, more than enough time for Simon to have returned home. The fact that he hadn’t twisted her insides with dread.