The Wicked Deeds of Daniel Mackenzie Read Online Free PDF Page A

English ton
watching, no Mortimer. Just Daniel and this lovely lady, a candlelit room, and time.
    “Enough of these parlor games,” Mortimer broke in angrily. “I told you, Mademoiselle, Mackenzie came here to see the whole show. So give it to him.”
    Daniel had to turn away from Violette’s beautiful eyes, and for that, Mortimer would pay. “Shut your gob,” Daniel said. “She’s done enough for tonight, and you still owe me two thousand quid.”
    Mortimer was halfway out of his chair. “I’m paying for a show, and by God, I want one.”
    Daniel started up himself, ready to go over the table to him, but Mademoiselle raised her hands, her voice cutting through the impending tempest.
    “The spirits are here!
Now!
”
    A freezing wind swept through the dining room, extinguishing the candles in one go. The room plunged into darkness. In the middle of the table, where the candles had burned, a pale, luminescent blob began to form and spread.
    Before Daniel could sit down, a heavy grip seized him by the arms, and someone very strong dragged him up and out through a door and into a pitch-dark room. The door shut, cutting him off from the wind, Mortimer, and the enchanting Mademoiselle Violette.

Chapter 3

    Daniel twisted and swung around, his punch contacting flesh in the dark. A man grunted, then an answering blow landed on Daniel’s face before he could spin out of the way.
    More blows came down. Daniel fought back. His punches landed on a gut like a brick wall and an iron-tough jaw. Giant fists hit him in return, on his eyes, face, chest. Finally Daniel’s punch contacted a solar plexus, and the man grunted again, wheezing bad breath over Daniel’s face.
    Daniel shoved the man away and steadied himself on his feet. He couldn’t see a damn thing, and his first step led him smack into a table on which things clattered and clinked. A heavy thud and hoarse breathing told Daniel where the gentleman had fallen, but there was no telling how long he’d stay down.
    The short fight had been brutal, the man deadly strong. Daniel shook out his right fist. So much for not hurting his hands.
    Daniel took another step forward, this time connecting with a chair. Good enough. He sat down and stripped the gloves from his stinging hands.
    “If I can’t finish my motor in time, I’m blaming you,” Daniel said, pulling a box of matches from his pocket.
    “I only want the money,” the man on the floor said between gasps.
    “You’re the bloke who’s been following Mortimer tonight, aren’t you? What does he owe you?” Daniel struck a match against his boot, and a spark flared to life.
    “Five thousand.”
    Daniel gave a short laugh. “The idiot. And he owes me two.”
    “I’ll have it out of him. I’ll have it out of you. You took all his money.”
    “No, I won it fair and square. What he owes you is between him and you.”
    The light from the match showed Daniel a table beside him loaded with trinkets. A hurricane lamp waited in the midst of the clutter, and Daniel lifted its chimney to touch the match to the wick.
    The glowing light fell over the hard-faced man who lay stretched out on the floor. He looked less intimidating with his arm over his stomach, his face sickly green.
    “I can’t go back until I have it,” the man said, struggling to breathe. “It’ll be my life.” He had a London workingman’s accent.
    “Hired hand, are ye? What’s your name?”
    “Simon. Matthew Simon.”
    “Nice and biblical. So it’s kill me or go back and be killed, is that it? Brutal times we live in.”
    “That’s the size of it,” Mr. Simon said grimly. “Sorry and all that. But don’t really see a way around it, sir.”
    The man did sound regretful. But not apologetic. He had a job to do, and he would use any means to get that job done.
    “Tell you what, Mr. Simon, why don’t you come and work for me? Right now. You won’t need to run back to your master empty-handed. You can stop beating on me for the cash, and