“Feck’s sake,” Brigid said. “Anne’s better than either of you at keeping me from burning the place up. You good with going below, Anne?”

Anne paused and thought about it. Brigid would be more than enough protection from anyone who might be a danger to her. They would just have to stick together. And Anne could keep her friend from igniting in the close quarters even better than Carwyn could. Murphy would be able to, as well, but he was also the only one who might be able to decipher any clues that Jean or his people had left behind.

“I agree with Brigid,” Anne said. “Murphy, you’ve got to search the offices. The paperwork won’t make sense to any of the rest of us. You’ll know what to look for.”

Carwyn slapped Murphy’s bare shoulder. “I’m with you, then. As soon as we clear the bridge, I’ll follow them down.”

Murphy gave a swift nod and pressed a quick kiss to Anne’s mouth.

“Be careful,” he said before he walked behind the bridge and began to climb silently.

Anne and Brigid approached a sealed door.

“Do you know anything about boats?” Brigid asked.

Anne smiled. “It’s been a while since I’ve been on one of these monsters, but I think I can stumble through.”

Chapter Twenty-two

MURPHY FORCED HIMSELF TO REMEMBER that Anne was an imminently capable vampire who was paired with one of his fiercest soldiers. His worry must have shown on his face though, because Carwyn slapped him on his shoulder.

“If you’re wondering if it gets easier, it doesn’t.”

“Thank you. That’s reassuring.”

“She’s not a fierce woman like my Brigid. It’s not her nature. But Anne is smart. They’ll be fine.”

There were a few muttered curses when they entered the bridge, but the three humans working were no match for their speed or their amnis.

Murphy grabbed one of the human’s mobile phones, pleased that the man had a watertight, shatterproof—and thus fairly vampire proof—case covering it. He gingerly put it on the table and grabbed a pencil, hoping the phone wasn’t password protected.

He was in luck.

The screen came to life with the slide of the pencil eraser. Murphy put it on speaker and immediately called Ozzie.

“Yeah, boss?”

“Have you heard from Terry’s people? Have they found Jean?”

“The house in Kensington was empty ’cept for a few humans. I ain’t heard more than that. I imagine they’re still looking. If he’s disappeared, that don’t look good.”

“No,” he muttered, “it most certainly does not. Oz, I’ll keep this phone close. Call when you hear anything.”

“Will do.”

If Jean had abandoned the house in Kensington, he could be coming back to the ship. Or he could have other properties in London that Terry didn’t know about. Terry and Jean had been doing business for over one hundred years. He likely had a hundred bolt-holes and backup plans.

Carwyn was looking around, oddly quiet.

“Thoughts, Father?”

The other vampire didn’t rise to the bait. “Hmm?”

“You’re very quiet over there.”

“Eh, well…” He shook his head. “It’s Jean.”

“What about Jean?” Murphy was searching through the ship’s log, but nothing looked out of place. He needed to find Jean’s quarters or his office.

“He helped us in Rome.”

Murphy stopped and waited for Carwyn to finish his thoughts.

Carwyn continued. “Jean… helped break my best friend out of prison. Helped to keep Beatrice sane. I don’t just consider this man an ally. He is a friend.”

And suddenly, Terry sending Carwyn to help Murphy and Anne wasn’t such a mystery. He hadn’t done it for Murphy. He’d done it to keep Carwyn away from the ugliness of tracking a friend.

Murphy said, “Sometimes, people do things you wouldn’t expect when money is involved.”

“He doesn’t need money,” Carwyn said bitterly. “If he did this, it was because his pride was wounded. Is pride so precious? Is it worth killing over? Worth betraying friends?”

“I betrayed the woman I loved because of pride,” Murphy admitted. “I broke her trust. I might have lost her forever, if she weren’t so forgiving. Pride is… seductive. Addictive. And a harder habit to break than any drug. So yes, Jean might think Terry and Leonor’s slights were worth killing over.”

“He saw what this did to Lucien,” Carwyn said. “And he ships this poison anyway? He has no excuse.”

“Carwyn—”

“If he did this, I never knew him,” Carwyn said, an edge of steel cutting through his sadness. “If he could lie like this…”

“Come on,” Murphy said. “Let’s look for proof before we condemn him.”

Carwyn nodded, but Murphy knew in his gut that he was right.

Oleg’s daughter Zara might have been pulling the strings, but Jean Desmarais had willingly become her puppet.

Chapter Twenty-three

ANNE AND BRIGID WERE CHECKING the holds. Unfortunately, Jean’s ship had been fitted with many compartments, not just one larger hold. Some were refrigerated. Some were not. They came across only a skeleton crew of humans that Brigid subdued—mostly with amnis—and stuffed in one of the rooms. If the tiny woman had to rough up a few of the more aggressive crew members, that was hardly Brigid’s fault.