Too Sinful to Deny by Erica Ridley Page A

gone.”
    “Who? Timothy?” Ollie frowned, the deep lines that shadowed his face making his ugly face even uglier. “Didn’t you say he was dead?”
    Evan’s stomach clenched at the memory. “The hole in his head gave that impression.”
    “Then how—”
    “I obviously don’t know. That’s why I’m here.”
    “How the bloody hell would I know?” The surprise in Ollie’s eyes was real. “Your brother was the least unsavory shipmate I’ve ever had. The only person I can imagine putting a bullet between his eyes is Timothy himself out of pure boredom.”
    “Suggest it again and I’ll put a bullet between yours.”
    Ollie glanced away, by all appearances suddenly fascinated by the crackling of the fire.
    That was as close to an apology as the brute had ever given, so Evan forced himself to stay on course. He needed answers. Ollie hadn’t been present. But other hands had been on board. He just had to find them.
    “Red wasn’t at the Shark’s Tooth this morning,” he said aloud.
    “Well, hallelujah.” Ollie lowered his gaze to his ledger and ran a finger down one of the columns. “First time that sorry bastard hasn’t drunk himself into a stupor since his mouth let go of his mama’s pap.”
    “Don’t you find that strange?” Evan insisted, leaning forward in his chair. Perhaps Red hadn’t been in the tavern because Red had left town. Perhaps the sotted smuggler had turned on Timothy and fled Bournemouth forever.
    “Red’s a big enough imbecile to put a bullet in one of his own shipmates, but if you’re suggesting he also managed to hush up the crew and escape by himself with the spoils, boat and all”—Ollie scratched at his beard—“I’m going to be a bit skeptical.”
    Hmmm. A valid point.
    “Actually, the ship turned back up.” Evan noted the surprise in Ollie’s eyes at this bombshell. “But the last log page didn’t. Who do you think might have taken it?”
    Ollie blanched behind the midnight blackness of his beard. “A madman, that’s who. Even Red’s not that stupid. Taking a single word from any of the captain’s log books is tantamount to signing a contract givin’ away your balls.” His big shoulders twitched in an involuntary shudder. “And before you ask, absolutely not. Timothy’s sucket-fed. He would never have come within paw’s reach of that book, much less ripped out an entire page.” Lines creased his forehead. “Makes me wonder if I have any business hauling anchor come Friday. Ship could be cursed.”
    Evan turned his gaze to the fire and tried not to let Ollie’s palpable discomfiture poison his own determination to set sail. This weekend’s mission included a stop to the same port Timothy had been scheduled to visit before heading home. There was no way Evan could afford to miss an opportunity to look around, ask a few well-placed questions. He had to go. Despite the unnerving fact that he’d never seen Ollie look the slightest bit ruffled before.
    For the record, Evan hadn’t been about to ask if Timothy were foolish enough to rip a page from the captain’s log. Everybody knew coming within touching distance of that book was the fastest way to walking the plank. If the captain had suspected Timothy capable of doing so, Timothy would’ve wound up dea—
    Evan shot to his feet so fast Ollie fumbled with his ledgers and they spilled to the floor.
    “What the deuce, Bothwick! You—”
    “I have to go. I’ll explain later.”
    He sprinted for the door, but the air stuck to his limbs like molasses, stretching the room out farther and farther as if he were trapped in a nightmare he could never escape.
    Perhaps he was. At the very least, he was trapped in the library. Whose idea was it to lock the damn door, anyway? And what the hell had he done with the key? Ah—there.
    “Bothwick?” came Ollie’s clearly uneasy voice, but the molasses band had broken and Evan was already down the hall, through the maze, and bursting out of the front