by Joanna Shupe
“What do you think Mr. Mulligan is saying in there?” Mrs. Gorcey’s voice was hardly above a whisper, as if she feared Mulligan overhearing her.
Justine thought back to those bloody knuckles and winced. This isn’t my blood. Would he beat Gorcey into cooperating?
“I don’t know,” Justine said. “I hope it’s something to help your husband admit the truth.”
“All I want is financial support,” Mrs. Gorcey said. “I don’t want him back.”
“No one is saying you must take him back. And if this fails, I’ll find a way to bring your husband to the police. So, we aren’t out of options yet.”
The door reopened and Gorcey appeared first. His blank expression lacked all traces of the animosity from before. Mulligan strolled in next, all smiles. He slapped Gorcey on the back, as if they were the oldest of friends. “Go on, Robert.”
“I’ll pay her ten dollars a month,” Gorcey said. “Until the children are of age.”
“Twenty-five,” Justine countered. “There are six mouths to feed.”
Gorcey’s face darkened. “That’s absolute robbery!”
Mulligan cleared his throat dramatically.
Gorcey’s anger withered instantly. He nodded eagerly. “Of course. Twenty-five.”
“Hallelujah!” Mrs. Gorcey said.
Justine pressed her lips together to keep from smiling. They weren’t quite done yet. “You are to maintain a respectable distance from Mrs. Gorcey at all times. If I discover that you are harassing or abusing her in any manner, I will set the police on you.”
Gorcey’s gaze glittered with repressed hatred and burning frustration. These men were the most dangerous, in Justine’s opinion. She would not put it past him to try and hurt Mrs. Gorcey or the children to get out of making the payments.
“If I am providing for her like a husband, then I intend to claim my—”
“He won’t go near her,” Mulligan interrupted. “I’ll ensure it. The payments will come directly to me and I’ll see them forwarded to Mrs. Gorcey.”
“No.”
The room paused at Justine’s refusal. Even Mrs. Gorcey appeared confused. “I don’t understand,” the other woman said under her breath.
Justine focused on Mulligan. “The payments will go to the legal aid society. We’ll see that Mrs. Gorcey receives the money.”
Mulligan rubbed his jaw and stared at Justine. She could tell he didn’t like it but she would not budge on this. If Gorcey paid Mulligan, then Mrs. Gorcey might never see the money. Or, she’d see a reduced percentage, less a fee for Mulligan’s intervention.
Mulligan waved to the guard at the door. “Robert, I’ll follow up with you later. You’re excused.” Gorcey didn’t stick around. He quit the room in a flash. “Rye, see Mrs. Gorcey returned home. I’d like a word with Miss Greene. Alone.”
Chapter Three
Jack didn’t like ceding the upper hand. Not in his business, not in negotiations. Not even in bed. The minute he gave up control was the minute his empire toppled. Men all across the city were waiting for him to grow weak, to let up for one single second. Jack wouldn’t give them the satisfaction.
He meant to die while still on top. It was the only option for a man such as himself.
So, he didn’t care for Justine arguing with him when he’d solved her little problem. He’d expected her gratitude. Her appreciation. In his dreams, perhaps a celebratory fuck. What he hadn’t expected was for her to contradict that resolution.
“Please, sit.” He gestured to a chair. If they were to argue, then it was better to do it in a civilized manner.
“I’d rather stand,” she said. “This won’t take long.”
He shook his head but remained on his feet. “Miss Greene, you seem to misunderstand how things work in my world. My decisions are final. I solved your problem with the Gorceys. Do not spit on my benevolence.”
“And while I appreciate your help, I do not like the idea of Mrs. Gorcey beholden to you for her monthly stipend.”
“She is not beholden to me. You are.”
He almost enjoyed the shock that overcame her face. “Me? Why?”
“Because I did you a favor. As I said, favors come with a price around here. Quid pro quo, Miss Greene.”
“You never said that,” she snapped. “You asked what was in it for you if you helped me.”
“Implying that I am owed a debt should I lend assistance.”
Her arms lifted and fell at her sides. Then her jaw worked as she clenched it. She was glorious in her anger, with her tightly leashed emotion and flushed skin. He wondered whether that lurking fire and spirit would emerge in the bedroom. He doubted it. She gave off a virgin air. Surprising, considering the way the Greene girls ran amok in New York City. God knew none of them worried about propriety. But this was a complex creature, one he hadn’t figured out just yet.
Justine’s gaze narrowed, her stare full of loathing. If he weren’t so amused by her, his balls might have retracted up into his body in the face of her fierce disapproval. “We never agreed to any debt or repayment. I assumed you believed Mrs. Gorcey’s story and acted out of compassion and kindness.”
He chuckled. “Wrong. I believe Mrs. Gorcey, but there’s no compassion or kindness here. I am pure greed, through and through.”
“Well, I cannot pay you.”
“It’s not money that I’m after.”
That statement hung in the air and he could tell she didn’t understand. Hell, he barely understood it. But, twisted bastard that he was, he knew one should never turn down the opportunity to have the daughter of a prominent family in his debt. He’d be a goddamn fool otherwise.
“I do not understand.”
“It’s very simple. You owe me a favor, Miss Greene. The time and method of repayment is at my discretion.”
“Absolutely not. That is completely unacceptable. There’s no telling what you might ask for.”
“That is a risk you’ll have to take—unless you’d like me to turn Robert Gorcey out on the street without any agreement of future payments, of course.”
“That’s blackmail.”
She said it as if he was wholly unaware of his terms. “Very good.”
“What could you possibly want from me? I have no connections . . .” She drifted off as if an idea had occurred and rendered her speechless. “Surely you cannot mean anything . . . physical.”
“You’re hardly my type,” he said by way of answer. “I think I’d scare you witless the second I undressed.”
“Then I cannot begin to see what you will require in exchange.”
“No one can predict the future. Perhaps I’ll never call in that favor.” A lie. Of course he would call in the favor, but she needn’t know that.
“Doubtful. You seem the kind of man to keep people under your thumb, turning the screws.”
The side of his mouth hitched. “I am fond of screwing.”
She huffed out a breath and cocked her head. “Was that innuendo?”
“If you cannot tell then I’ve clearly lost my touch.”
“I thought I wasn’t your type?”
He lifted a shoulder and shoved his hands in his trouser pockets. “The more you argue with me, the more ‘my type’ you become.”
He nearly laughed at the way her lips pressed together, as if she was holding back her arguments by sheer force of will. Silent, she folded her arms and stared at the wall. He could almost see her brain turning it over, trying to arrive at a solution that wouldn’t require interacting with him again.
For some reason, he couldn’t let that happen.
The moment dragged on. It was warm in his office and he longed for a cool drink at the bar. Still, he wouldn’t rush her. He’d learned to negotiate on the streets of Five Points, where winning meant survival. Those skills had been honed against criminals, policemen, politicians . . . One little Knickerbocker wouldn’t rattle him. He’d wait her out all week, if necessary.
“What happens if I refuse
the repayment request?”
“You won’t.”
“I certainly will if it is illegal or makes me uncomfortable in any way.”
“Lest you think this is a negotiation, allow me to dissuade you. You have no leverage in this situation. Walking out means Mr. Gorcey disappears for good. Are you so cavalier with Mrs. Gorcey’s fate?”
Color tinged her cheeks, the gold in her eyes sparking once more as she faced him. So far, he’d embarrassed and angered her. Yet she was still here, staring him down. The girl had spine. “That sounds like a challenge,” she threw out. “How about this for leverage? I’ll merely pay Mrs. Gorcey myself.”
He blinked. Just once, which wouldn’t have been memorable coming from any other person on earth. But for Jack Mulligan, who never flinched or backed down or reacted in any manner that he hadn’t carefully planned, he might as well have fainted in a fit of the vapors.
Goddamn it. Would she really do that?
“Yes, I really would,” she said, somehow able to read his mind.
“With what money? Your father certainly won’t approve.”
“I don’t need his money. I have money of my own.”
Shit. Of course. He’d been an idiot to assume her dependent on her father. Girls like her were rolling in money, dripping in dresses and jewels as soon as they left the cradle.
He accepted defeat. He couldn’t counter that—
Oh, wait. Yes, he could.
“And what would your father think about your activities here downtown?”
She visibly bristled, her shoulders tight, brows lowered in anger. “Good God. You are a worm, Mulligan. No, you are lower than a worm. You are the scum floating atop a Mulberry Street puddle.”
He chuckled. “I will give you credit for creativity, Miss Greene. I don’t think I’ve ever been called puddle scum before.”
“I wish I could revel in the achievement. Unfortunately, I’m too busy cursing you inside my head.”
“And what curses would those be? I’m curious how an uptown princess curses out a man like me.”
She drew closer, unafraid, her hands clenched into tight fists. “I won’t dignify that taunt with a response. Only know they are very creative, entirely lewd and ridiculously offensive.”
Whether it was her bold attitude or the word lewd, lust began to thicken in his blood, warming him everywhere. Christ, she was brave. Grown men wouldn’t face him down like this, insulting him. No woman had certainly ever tried before. He liked it, though, at least from Justine. She was like Joan of Arc or Boudica squaring off in battle, and he contemplated all that passion and determination locked inside her. The man who found a way to enjoy it, whether in or out of the bedroom, would reap a hell of a reward.
As he let his mind ruminate on some of the more interesting reward possibilities, she started for the door. “Fine, Mulligan. You have your promise.”
He couldn’t help but grin as he watched her move across the floor. “I thought you might say that.”
“Enjoy it, then, because that’s the last one you’ll ever get out of me. I know better than to bargain with the devil twice.” She stepped into the corridor, slamming the door shut behind her.
“What is troubling you, my dear?” Granny asked Justine quietly at dinner. Everyone else was talking around them, leaving a rare moment for private conversation. “You seem distracted tonight.”
Was it that obvious? “Merely a long day.”
With their parents in Europe, the Greene sisters had taken to dining with their grandmother most every night. Tonight, though, Justine was not exactly up to making polite conversation, not after her meeting with Mulligan. The idea of owing him an undetermined favor at some point in the future turned her stomach.
Granny nudged Justine with her elbow. “A bold-faced lie if I’ve ever heard one. Something has upset you.”
“Why are men so awful?”
She’d blurted the question without thinking, and Granny’s eyes grew round like saucers. Justine couldn’t blame Granny for the reaction. The two of them weren’t particularly close—Florence was Granny’s favorite, after all—and they’d never had a single conversation about relationships or marriage. In fact, Justine couldn’t remember ever going to their grandmother for advice. Perhaps she should remedy that. Granny was wise and not as conventional as Mama.
Granny’s mouth hitched, her eyes twinkling with mirth. “My dear, you might as well ask why the sky is blue. Men are the way they are because we’ve allowed them to run roughshod over us for centuries. But your generation is changing that, I believe. It takes time for attitudes to shift.” She leaned in and whispered, “And you’ll come to learn they are good for some things.”
I am fond of screwing.
Justine could feel her skin warming and tingling. Mulligan was potent. A heady presence that overwhelmed any room he occupied. He was also a criminal. She could not under any circumstances forget that, no matter his charm and wit.
“Is there a man in your life?” Granny asked under her breath. “You may tell me. I won’t share with anyone.”
“No,” she said. “Which is fine. I do not need one.”
“You might change your mind for the right man. You’re more practical and sentimental than your sisters. You’ll want a family, of course.”
Perhaps once she had. But the last few years had shown her the suffering, the helplessness that children endured in this world. “Marriage doesn’t mean children.” At least, it shouldn’t.
“I suppose. But how will our daughters change the world if there are no more daughters?”
Justine thought about that as she chewed. Mr. Gorcey’s face flashed in her mind as he lied about fathering any children. Utterly infuriating. Sadly, he was not unique. Countless men walked away from their promises and responsibilities with little thought, leaving women and children to suffer. It sickened her. “Why are sons not taught to change things? Why must the burdens and problems of this world constantly fall on the shoulders of women?”
The wrinkles in Granny’s skin deepened as she pursed her lips. “You know, I’ve never considered it that way. But you’re right.”
“Exactly.”
“I suppose it’s for the best. God knows your father isn’t in any hurry to see you paired off, not after what he went through with your two sisters. I think he’s hoping you’ll live here forever, unwed and pure.”
Pure, ha.
Her virginity aside, Justine couldn’t imagine leaving her family and this house. She loved this place, the only home she’d ever known. Yet things were changing. Mamie lived with Frank a little farther south on Fifth Avenue. Florence would soon move to her casino downtown. Each of her sisters was finding her path. What was Justine’s future? She wanted to help people, but what did that mean? More charity work? “Well, I’m not in any hurry, either.”
Dinner broke up and everyone started for the salon. Justine was considering escaping to her bedroom when her oldest sister dragged her into an empty sitting room. “I want to talk to you,” Mamie said, her mouth set in a determined line that Justine was well familiar with.
“What about?”
“Today.”
“And?”
“You were very late, dragging in here looking like someone kicked your dog.”
“That’s a terrible comparison.”
“Justine, focus. What happened?”
Mamie was the only one in the family who knew about Justine’s efforts to locate the wife deserters. “I found Mr. Gorcey, the husband I’ve been searching for the past six weeks.”
“That is good news. Unless it didn’t go well?”
“No, it did. He’s agreed to pay Mrs. Gorcey a monthly stipend to help her raise the children.”
Mamie’s brows lowered. “Why so glum, then? I should think you’d be elated.”
“I am. It’s just . . .” She decided to confide in Mamie. “Do you know a man downtown by the name of Jack Mulligan?”
“I know of him. Why?”
“You what?” Mamie grabbed Justine’s arm. “Tell me you did not go alone. You shouldn’t be around Mulligan, certainly not without an escort.”
“It was the middle of the day. I was perfectly safe. Mostly.”
That was the wrong thing to say. Mamie paled and rocked back on her heels. “Did someone hurt you?”
“No. Calm down, Mamie. Nothing happened.”
Mamie didn’t appear to believe that statement, the irritation not leaving her expression. “So, what is this about Mulligan?”
“I needed his help with Gorcey. In exchange I had to promise a favor.”
“What kind of favor?”
“He wouldn’t say. Just a future favor of his choosing.”
“And you agreed to that?” Mamie gaped then put her hands on her hips. “Have Florence and I taught you nothing? Why in God’s name would you say yes?”
Justine bristled. “I’m not a child, Mamie. I needed his help. I erroneously thought Mulligan would force Gorcey to pay based on his reputation as a protector of women. Her situation was supposed to appeal to his sense of right and wrong.”
“Well, Frank will go and handle Mulligan, get him to remove the debt.”
“That isn’t necessary. I will handle it. Also, we agreed Frank wasn’t to know about what I am doing.” Her brother-in-law could make investigating difficult for Justine, if he chose. Or he could tell her father, which would have been infinitely worse.
“I don’t like keeping secrets from him,” Mamie said. “It’s not fair to either of us. He’ll be furious if he finds out.”
“Which he won’t—because you won’t say anything. I will stop informing you of what I’m doing if it’s so difficult for you to remain quiet.”
“Which would only worry me more. At least I may offer assistance if I know what you’re doing.”
“So, it’s settled. I’ll deal with Mulligan and you stay out of it.”