“Because your brother was in trouble,” said the first man.
“Big trouble,” the second man agreed.
“Will you stop repeating everything I say?” the first man said irritably. “Shut your mouth and use your fists. That’s all you’re good for.”
“Pardon me for living,” muttered the second man.
“I want proof,” Dane said. “Hand over proof of this alleged information, and I’ll think about giving you what you demand.”
“You’ll think about it, will you?” sneered the first voice. “Not good enough.” A nasty, low laugh. “Your life is ours now. You’ll do what we say when we say to do it.”
Cold steel pressed against his throat.
Dane swallowed. “Tell me how much my brother owed, and I’ll try to raise the full amount. Pay off his debt clean and simple. How does that sound, gents?”
“Too late for that, I’m afraid. Our associate will take your money, and you’ll be called upon to do us small favors from time to time.”
“What manner of favors?”
“It’s easy enough. You and your reckless friends already spend your nights gambling and placing bets on sporting events. We’ll tell you what to bet on. Then you’ll tell your friends what to bet on. And when you win big, and they win big, you’ll take a cut of their winnings, and we’ll take it all.”
“That seems risky to me, to my friends, and to you if the authorities—”
“One word to the authorities and—” The knife pressed to his flesh traced a rough line across his throat, hard enough to make him choke.
“Understood,” Dane said shakily. The men holding his arms behind his back twisted harder, and he grunted in pain. “Easy, now. If you hurt me, I won’t be able to do you any favors.”
“You’ll do the favors, all right,” said the deeper voice, “or you’ll have Mr. La—”
“Shut your mouth!” bellowed the first man. “You imbecile.”
He’d been about to say a name that began withL-A, that much Dane knew.
“We’ll be watching you,” the man said. “You’ll never know when and where we’ll contact you, but be ready.”
One more jab to his ribs, and then they were gone.
Dane ripped the sack off his head and ran back to the wider street. Passersby gave him curious glances as he stared wildly about, searching for a glimpse of his attackers, who’d managed to disappear into the night.
He leaned against a wall, quieting his breath. He’d never admit it in a million years, but he was scared. He didn’t like being scared.
Whatever his brother had done for these men had been wrong. His upstanding, moralizing, holier-than-thou brother had been dealing in dirty money and nefarious deeds.
And now it was up to Dane to untangle the mess he’d made.
The ridiculous sun-drenched dreams he’d had at the coast were just that—dreams. Fantasies of a life he could never lead. Even more so now. Idyllic villages where everyone knew everyone, long walks on the sand with pretty, innocent Sandrine. It all seemed so distant now.
Danny Smith was gone forever. That stupid, silly fantasy he’d begun to have of abandoning his life in London and living a simpler, more meaningful life. Gone. All gone.
It might be his brother’s sins he was paying for, but he’d sinned plenty in his life, and reparations were to be made.
Those foolish dreams he’d pieced together out of soft laughter, sweet looks, and blue skies had been brutally ripped apart.
This was the beginning of the end for Sandrine. After the dessert course, Mr. Pilkington was going to propose.
She could barely choke down a few bites of custard. Her mind was in turmoil. She wanted to throw down her spoon, jump up from the table, run from the room, and keep running out of the house and away from her fate.
“Now, then,” Mrs. Oliver said, catching Sandrine’s eye. “I’ll leave you two alone for a moment.”