The Fighter and the Fallen Woman Read Online Free PDF Page B

make, Mr. Adams. You can ask the three stockmen Jonathan faced in an outback bar. Oh, wait a minute—you can’t. They’re dead.”
    He studied Collins and tried to read truth or lies in his face while he considered the wager. At worst, he lost the blunt and King. But at best—oh, at bloody best—he could be the new owner of that little knife of a fighting machine. It was too good a chance to pass up.
    “You’ve got yourself a bet.” Hannibal stuck his cigar in his mouth and offered his hand. As Collins shook on the bet, Hannibal almost grunted with satisfaction. Things were lining up even better now. Feeling a little more charitable with his adversary, he reached into his pocket for a card case. “Do you fancy some companionship while you’re here?” He watched as the American’s eyes flickered to Lady and knew now that this fish could be landed any time.
    “Truthfully, I have been a bit lonely since arriving in your fair city.”
    Hannibal slid an ivory card out of the case and passed it to Collins. “Go to the Red Door Brothel—don’t worry, any hack will get you there—and give this to the madam, Mrs. Henderson. She’ll make sure you’re not lonely.”
    Hannibal turned away from Collins. After watching his fighter demolish his way through the first round, taking a bet for ten thousand pounds and another superior bruiser, and winning quite a few pounds on the bouts tonight, he was feeling like the king of the world.
    “Come on, pet.” He pulled Lady toward the door. “I’m going to make sure you’re not lonely for quite a while.”
    * * *
    After the fight, King returned to his rooms in the rear of the Red Door. When he’d managed to convince Mr. Adams that Shade should have the bigger, more opulent rooms King had been occupying in Mr. Adams’s home and he’d take these smaller rooms in the Red Door to provide extra protection during especially busy nights, he’d gained a small freedom but a rich one. Too many times had Mr. Adams stormed into King’s rooms and announced they were going on a collection run or to the Red Door or, worst of all, to Lady’s, and the small daydream King had been having about that very woman would be shattered, King’s calm with it.
    Images of Lady flickering through the back of his mind like a moving picture book, he checked on the ragged, bandaged brown bird in a box near the fire and saw it had eaten the worm King found in the street earlier this evening. “Good girl,” he murmured and lightly stroked the bird’s head. As he sat cross-legged in front of the fire and started building a small cage using bamboo canes he’d nicked at the warehouse tonight, he let the images of Lady build and break free. He could still feel her holding his hand, tracing that scar over and over again. Having her touch him like that was worth the pain of getting it, and he wondered if he’d feel the same about the pain to come because of that kiss. He’d been a brawler from damn near birth. He could handle the pain, but could she? Would she want to? He’d shielded her as much as he could from Mr. Adams’s attacks and moods, but their owner was capable of so much more pain and cruelty. She’d be smart to keep Mr. Adams happy and he’d be smart to stop thinking of Lady so much. There were other girls out there, blonde and blue-eyed, and it would be better for both of them if he picked one of those girls instead, regardless of that moment before Lady kissed him and he could see the question in her eyes.
    Do you feel the same way I do?
Knowing the darkness
,
knowing who I am and what I’ve done
,
do you?
    And he did. He’d known killers who were the benefactors of orphans and titled men who tortured barn cats, so as far as he was concerned, the measure of a man was more than the circumstances of birth or the basic power each person held. Mr. Adams was proof of that lesson, as was Lady. She’d never been anything but nice to him, never appeared to hold his profession against him,