Page 16 of An Extraordinary Lord

“And face the consequences in court if they’re caught,” he mumbled.

“It’s a risk they’re willing to accept to have a safe space to live, with a roof over their heads and food in their bellies.”

Was that why she participated in the thefts, to keep herself off the streets? Or did she do it because she enjoyed the thrill of breaking the law? God knew she’d seemed to enjoy their sparring last night as much as he had.

“If they don’t want to help, they’re free to leave. No one’s kept here against their will.”

“Including you?”

She didn’t answer. Her gaze remained straight ahead.

“And the goods that aren’t cloth and food?” He pivoted the conversation. “What do you do with those?”

“They’re scattered across stalls at the local markets and sold, and the profits are handed out to people in the rookeries to pay for rent or to buy bread and milk.” They stopped in front of the last door. “The men only target those merchants and lords who can afford to lose a few goods, and they never take the entire lot.”

“Taking from the rich to give to the poor?” he muttered. “Who are you trying to be—Robin Hood’s merry men?”

“Yes.” She knocked on the last door. “And now I’m going to introduce you to Robin Hood.”

She shoved it open.

Like the rest of the warehouse, the whitewashed room was flooded in sunlight. Pieces of old but serviceable furniture sat scattered throughout, including an old stove in the corner with its pipe snaking up through a hole in the side wall. The same sailcloth that served below as walls hung here as drapes on the windows, although unlike the rest of the windows in the warehouse, these were protected by sets of iron bars. The same bars Merritt had glimpsed on the windows in the storage room.

But it was the man who stood in front of the windows who dominated the space. Tall and solidly built, with a Mediterranean complexion and curly dark-brown hair, he gave rapid-fire orders to the two men who were with him, men just as large as the two who guarded the stairs.

He looked up when they entered, his expression freezing for a beat before he smiled at Veronica. Then he slid an assessing look over Merritt from head to boots.

“Filipe,” Veronica called out to him as she came forward, “am I interrupting business?”

“You are never an interruption.” He took her hands and kissed both her cheeks in greeting. His mouth lingered at her ear as his eyes narrowed on Merritt over her shoulder. “And you’ve brought a friend.”

Merritt tensed. The protective way the man said that…was he jealous? Was that why Veronica lived here, because the man was her lover?

He released Veronica and strode toward Merritt. His hand was outstretched, although certainly more to check that Merritt wasn’t palming a weapon than in greeting.

“Filipe Navarre,” the man introduced himself.

“The King of Saffron Hill,” Veronica added in explanation to Merritt. “You’d said you’d heard of him last night when we met.”

He’d said no such thing. Apprehension tightened his gut. What game was she forcing him into? Yet he played along and confirmed, “I did.”

Filipe smiled, although not with pride but chagrin. “Being known is not a benefit in my business.” His tight smile turned icy. “And who are you?”

Merritt’s mind blanked. Damnation, hereallyneeded to work on that secret identity.

“This is Mr. Herbert,” Veronica piped up, saving him. In a way. “First name Fitz.”

He clenched his jaw. Damn that little minx.

“He’s a porter on the docks. I ran into him last night when I was stalking for Fernsby. That’s why I was late returning this morning. We had a long talk, and I couldn’t get away.” Her eyes gleamed with private amusement at his expense. “It was almost as if he were holding me prisoner.”

He wanted to throttle her.

“So why did you bring him to me?” Filipe asked. “I don’t need a porter.”

“But you do need a porter who has information about what goods will be arriving to the warehouses and when,” she answered. “That information could prove valuable.”

Filipe flicked a glance at Veronica as he considered her explanation. “We don’t pay for services, Herbert. We expect honor among thieves here.” In his voice, Merritt caught the same accent that faintly colored Veronica’s. So familiar…yet he couldn’t place it. “I’m certain Roni told you that. So why would you want to help us?”