Page 35 of Winter's Waltz
One that saidwait.
He obeyed, because she was likely correct. And it was likely his protective—and possessive—instincts reacting once more.
“Well, then?” she asked expectantly.
Max could not help but to be impressed by the manner in which she had one of the most feared gaming hell barons in the East End bowing and scraping to her.
Sutton sighed. “Paul Wilmore’s brother, Ruben. Look to that rat first. He has been running his mouth, cursing you and your brothers this last year. Some of my men overheard him swearing he was going to bring the Winters to their knees at last, using Lady Fortune as an example. I have been watching him, but only within my hell. Beyond…”
“Beyond is anyone’s guess. Fair enough,” Gen declared with a nod. “Ruben Wilmore? That is all you have heard?”
Sutton nodded. “I would suspect him before any others.”
His tone was grave. Serious. Max believed him, though he was still inclined to take up the cudgels and face the man at dawn.
“Thank you, Jasper,” Gen said.
Sutton inclined his head. “You are, as ever, the queen of the East End. The rest of us are but your vassals.”
How correct he was in that assessment.
“Damned right you are,” Genevieve Winter said, echoing Max’s thoughts. “Thank you for the information, Sutton.” She turned to Max. “My lord?”
He offered her his arm. And she took it.
Together, they walked from Jasper Sutton’s gaming hell.
