Hale gave a raw laugh and leaned back in his chair, which creaked under his solid, muscled weight. His expression as he spared Roderick only a passing glance while he reached around to grasp the neck of another bottle from the table behind him indicated he couldn’t have been less concerned about the threat.
Roderick’s features hardened. Hale knew well enough the kidnapping wouldn’t be reported. Not when such a thing would ruin Lily Chadwick completely. Hale expected no consequences from his actions tonight. He would have to be set straight on that.
Roderick watched patiently as the other man opened the fresh bottle and tipped it back to guzzle several healthy swigs.
He sensed something in Hale he hadn’t noticed initially. It was not something he saw very often, but on occasion a man would wander into the club with a particular air about him. A fundamental recklessness that indicated he had absolutely nothing to lose.
These men were more dangerous than those who were desperate to prove themselves.
These men were entirely unpredictable. Entirely without boundaries or limitations to what they may attempt. With nothing to lose, there was nothing to prevent them from achieving total destruction—their own or someone else’s; it didn’t often matter which.
No. Threats would accomplish nothing with this man. Nor would an offer of financial compensation, he suspected.
What, then?
Roderick relaxed his gaze and studied the former fighter from a new perspective.
After a few moments, he said simply, “You will vow to leave the Chadwicks alone.”
Hale nearly snorted his liquor and set the bottle down to sneer at Roderick. “Why should I do that?”
“Because you do not have an issue of concern with them anymore. They were a means to an end, and though I can see it did not result in the way you wished,” Roderick added, unable to resist prodding the man’s obvious wounds. He noted the way Hale’s countenance darkened considerably, and he flicked a haunted glance down at the overturned sketches on his desk before he continued, “You know as well as I it has nothing to do with those three women.”
Roderick paused.
He had heard Mason Hale was a shrewd man with a surprisingly sharp mind for business. He decided to trust in that being true.
“We run in some similar circles, you and I,” Roderick continued conversationally. “Share many acquaintances, some clients perhaps,” he added with a lifted brow. Though he doubted they truly had much in common by way of clientele, he understood Hale to be an ambitious man. “How would people react to the news that Mason Hale did not honor payment of a debt in full?”
Hale’s gaze was wavering under the influence of the alcohol, but was no less fierce because of it.
“I would say the Chadwicks have more than compensated on what you were owed, wouldn’t you agree?”
With a rough harrumph, Hale took another swig of his bottle before leveling a heavy-browed glare at Roderick.
“You are a hard man, Hale, but you are no villain. I would guess you have your share of troubles, but if you do not cut the Chadwicks loose, I vow I will become one more.”
Hale’s glower would have terrified a lesser man. “I don’t like you, Bentley.”
“I understand.”
The two men stared at each other for a moment. Then Hale reached to his side to pull open a desk drawer. He withdrew a piece of paper, wrote something across it in a slashing hand, and thrust it toward Roderick.
“Now get the fuck out of my place.”
Roderick took the paper. After a brief review of its contents, he gave a nod of his head, then turned and left.
He would have to arrange for Bishop to keep a close eye on the former prizefighter turned bookmaker to ensure he held to his word. But something told him Hale had bigger problems to worry about than the Chadwicks. He did not expect him to pose any further threats.
The light of dawn covered the town in a gray mist as the hackney drew to a stop in front of the town house. Roderick stepped to the curb just as another carriage was pulling away. A frisson of awareness snaked down his spine.
The front door was ajar, and he entered the house quietly just in time to spy a petite female figure in the doorway to the parlor at the same time that he heard Portia Chadwick’s bold voice exclaim, “Lily!”
The woman stepped into the parlor and out of his view. Roderick remained in the hall, tense and alert—unwilling to interrupt, yet unable to leave until he was assured the young woman was well.
He heard Emma’s voice next. “Tell me you are unhurt,” she said sternly.
“I am fine, Emma,” came the gentle response.
Relief flooded Roderick’s body. There was no need for the Chadwicks to know what he had done for them tonight. They were safe—that was all that mattered. With a long breath, he turned and left the house, securing the door behind him.