A Dangerous Passion (The Hellion Club Book 8) by Chasity Bowlin

Author:Chasity Bowlin [Bowlin, Chasity]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, romance, Historical
Publisher: Dragonblade Publishing, Inc.
Published: 2023-07-26T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty

It was too early in the morning to be yelled at. Vincent was rarely out of bed before the early afternoon. But since he rarely found his bed until after dawn, that worked well. Now, being thrust into the middle of a singularly troubling abduction and investigation into the murders of several women, sleep was becoming a much-desired commodity.

Being haunted by dreams of Honoria Blaylock’s naked form spread out before him to ravage as he pleased certainly did not help matters at all. Cursing under his breath, he considered whether or not he was capable of knocking Ettinger on his ass. Given the other man’s Titan-like stature, that was debatable. Regardless, he was too tired to attempt it at the moment.

Settling back in his chair, Vincent let him rant. He’d sent a messenger to the man just as he was closing down the club, which would have made it roughly four in the morning. No doubt he’d woken Ettinger with it and now he was here to take his due. There’d be time enough to sway him to his way of thinking after his temper had been spent.

“I’m not your bloody errand boy to be summoned at your whim. I have a business now—a legitimate one—of my own. I am not beholden to you for the scraps you toss at my feet!”

Vincent stared at Ettinger, his expression pointedly blank as the former inspector railed. He’d expected refusal, of course. Ettinger had been threatening to quit working for him since the day he had begun working for him. And yet, more than a decade later, here they were.

“Furthermore, you are to blame for my change in careers! If not for you and your inability to refuse any request to embroil yourself in other people’s dramas and disasters, I’d still be happily working for Bow Street. Instead, I’m now a clientless private inquiry agent with only one good arm, and I’ve pissed in chamber pots bigger than my current office!”

When Ettinger had finished, Vincent considered the idea that Ettinger might blame him for the career change. It wasn’t untrue, but it also wasn’t as dire as the man made it sound. “You are right. It is my fault. I dragged you into the mess with Highcliff and Bechard. If I hadn’t, you’d still be working for Bow Street. But not happily. You hated it, if I recall. You kept that position as long as you did because it was useful in our other endeavors and profitable. Because I made it profitable for you.”

Ettinger’s expression darkened, his black brows sinking low over his eyes as he all but growled, “Bugger yourself.”

“I have a proposition for you now . . . a profitable one. It would dramatically improve your reputation and might even earn you more than one paying client for your new endeavor as a private inquiry agent. And it would certainly help you to afford an office larger than a piss pot,” Vincent continued, ignoring Ettinger’s foul mood. For several months

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