Chapter Thirteen

AFTER THE NIGHT Watch shift had ended, Vince ordered Mr Norton to take over keeping an eye on the prisoners.

Mr Norton had grumbled but accepted it needed to be done. “They can’t stay locked up here forever though.”

He was right, of course. The Watch House made a poor substitute for the Blackrabbit Gaolhouse and lacked the facilities needed to house prisoners for any real length of time. The Pennymen had only been there for a couple of days, but Walter had been locked up for longer. Not that he showed any intentions of leaving, mind you. Crabmeat had taken a liking to him and often slept by his cell while Vince worked.

Vince washed in his quarters. He threw on a clean shirt, and ten minutes later, he knocked on the blood-red door of the cherry house. Queenie answered it, giving him the customary knowing look. He’d had one brawl there, about five years ago, and she’d never let him forget it. Well, two brawls. But they were kind of the same, really. One sort of ran into the other. He’d paid for the damage, which was the only reason she hadn’t banned him for life.

He shook the rain from his cap and coat, hung them up to dry, and entered the cockerel room. In the low lighting, he stripped his clothes off and threw them in a corner. He heaved his heavy shoulders, stretched his arms, and breathed. One day, he realised, he’d have to try to figure out why he only ever felt truly relaxed in places like this. Not today though.

He stood aside to let a naked man in a wheeled chair go past with his strapping companion. Barely ten men occupied the room, most lounging and chatting in the buff. A far cry from the last visit when he’d met—

“Vince?”

He turned to find a nude James leaning against a wall with a muscular gentleman on his arm.

“Not meant to use names in here,” Vince said. “Bad form.” He walked away. James left his muscular companion and followed.

“You’re right, of course.” James kept his voice deep and purring. “I forgot myself in the excitement of the moment.” He set his hand low on Vince’s back as they walked, just above his buttocks.

To his mild annoyance, the sensation of James’s hand on his skin stirred Vince’s loins. Something which did not escape James’s attention.

“Been here all night?” Vince asked.

“A few hours, at least. A bit of a celebration, you might call it.”

Vince grunted and sat on a bench. “Heard your news.”

“And you came to celebrate it too? How decent of you.” James went to sit next to him but stopped and moved when he realised he’d be on Vince’s blind side.

“Came to drown my sorrows between someone’s legs.”

James laughed a little. “I know it’s not the outcome you were hoping for, but surely you can see it’s good news for the town?”

“Armed soldiers aren’t good news for anyone.”

“Tell that to a besieged colony.” James took a bottle from a nearby shelf and poured two tumblers of gin. He handed one to Vince.

Groans of pleasure from a nearby bed distracted them both momentarily. James slid his hand across the tattoo of a shark on Vince’s round stomach, and then slowly down between his legs. He gently stroked Vince’s member.

“Leave the gangs to me.” Vince sipped some gin. It could have stripped blood from a carpet.

“I couldn’t if I wanted to,” James said. “They’re the whole reason I have a Watch of my own in the first place.”

Two elderly gentlemen passed by, hand-in-hand, and winked at James, who raised his glass to them.

“Got plans to deal with them?” Vince asked. “Gangs, I mean.”

“We’re going to round up every single gang member. And any who try to act up will be put in the ground.”

Vince vigorously shook his head. “Can’t do that. Don’t deserve it.”

“I very much beg to differ. I think it’s the absolute least they deserve. And you’ve changed your tune. I thought you were all for a tough approach?”

Vince slammed his tumbler on the bench, stood, and turned away. He squeezed his hands tightly and opened them again, over and over.

James crossed his legs. “Weren’t you the one who planned to call into every gin house in town and break any heads you recognised?”

“Before. Not now.” Vince’s blood was up, and his voice went with it, drawing stares from the other patrons.

“Whyever not?” James asked. “Could it be because I’ll be the one to do it instead of you?”

“Yes! No… I…”

A slender man wearing only blue sapphire earrings and a high collar studded with jewels approached them. “Excuse me, but you seem to have forgotten that other people are present. Perhaps you boys would be better off in a private room?”

“Quite right,” James said, rising to his feet. “Shall we?”

Vince ignored him.

The man in the collar cocked his hip and played with an earring. “Or perhaps I should fetch Queenie, and see what she thinks?”

Vince sighed and followed James through an archway at the back of the room. It led to a domed hallway lined with looking-glass panels, even on the ceiling. James found an empty room and stood back. He squeezed Vince’s bare behind as he passed by, then he shut the door behind them.

The little private room had one large bed covered in cushions. Overhead, several lanterns fitted with red glass hung from gold chains.

“There now,” James said. “You’re free to be as contradictory and hypocritical as you like.”

Vince stared at him and pursed his lips. “Infuriating man.”

“Yes, you are,” James said. His smile refused to budge but his voice turned sharper. “Look, what is the matter with you? We both want to stop the gangs, and we’re both prepared to do anything to achieve it!”

Vince pointed at him. “No! Not anything! Not anymore.”

“Whyever not, man? What’s changed?”

Vince turned away and slapped his hands on the lavishly papered wall. The lanterns overhead wobbled on the end of their chains.

James slid over to one side of the bed and patted his hand on it. “Have you gotten it all out of your system? Good. Come over. Sit.”

After a moment, Vince did as he was told. “Met with…the Cream.” He saw no reason to let James know about the shadow council. Not yet. “Made me see things…differently.”

James’s smile finally disappeared. “In what way?”

“Thought I could come here and get rid of the gangs. Break them apart. But it’s not so simple. Gangs aren’t just criminals working together. More to it. Almost like…families.”

James tutted. “Hogwash.”

“Brought most of them into this life. Taught them how to survive. Whole world was happy to let them rot but not me. Then I left. Abandoned them. Didn’t give a second thought to what it would do to them.” He squeezed his hands together between his knees. “And the Gunbrides. Something wrong with them. Lambshead has twisted their minds. Don’t deserve to be killed for what they can’t control.”

“They don’t deserve to be left to run wild either. They’re dangerous to everyone around them.”

Vince studied his rugged face. He wanted to ask if James knew of Swan’s plan to replace Rabbit as head of the council. He wanted to ask if James knew he was helping her to do so or if he was just a pawn in her game.

Vince chose to help Rabbit because it kept him in employment, yes, but also out of loyalty. Rabbit had been the one who kept him out of gaol after Mudge’s failed coup d’état. Rabbit had given him the Watch. But he couldn’t escape the fact that he simply didn’t want Swan to be in charge of the council. He’d been at loggerheads with the C.T.C. for most of his life; he didn’t want them controlling the council or patrolling the streets. “Your new watch. Going to be around long, is it?”

“Just until the gangs are quashed,” James said with a shrug. “I have no doubt we’ll be successful, in time. Once things have quietened down, we’ll step aside. Until then, I’ve been looking at buying a house in the countryside. Something with a grand garden. You’ll have to come and visit when I’ve settled in.” He grinned then, and his eyes turned to little upturned crescent moons, twinkling in the lantern light. He lay back and rested on his side, casually running his fingers through his own chest hair.

He could be lying to my face. If James knew of Swan’s plan, he might be actively helping her—he might be knowingly working against Vince. He might be planning to take over Vince’s Watch, eventually. But there he lay, playing it all down.

“Don’t hurt them. Gang members. Please.”

“I can’t make any promises.” James used his thumb to turn the ring on his finger. “If they attack my people, my people have a right to defend themselves.”

“Don’t provoke them, then. Don’t rush in, guns blazing.”

James’s smile made a triumphant return. “Fine. For you. As a favour. Now, I wonder what you might do for me?” James ran his hand up Vince’s inner thigh.

Despite himself, Vince’s response was immediate and unmistakable. While James busied himself between Vince’s legs, Vince sighed and growled, just a touch. He ran his hands through James’s coiffed hair, ruffling it just because he knew it would annoy him.

James knelt on the bed and hugged Vince close, kissing his neck, his cheek, his lips. In the candlelight, his sage-green eyes sparkled more than ever. He squeezed Vince hard, as if testing how rough he could be, how much pressure he could apply before Vince broke. He would have to squeeze a good deal harder than that.

They lay on the bed kissing and caressing before James turned to the wall and pulled Vince in close behind him. Vince slipped his hand first over James’s ample stomach then down to clamp on his wide, pale thigh. James groaned and was caught breathless when Vince pushed hard against him. Neither man was in any great hurry to finish, and they remained in the little private room at the back of the cherry house until the clock tower chimed at noon.