by Joanna Shupe
And yet . . .
Hope seeped into his chest like water through cracks in a wall. Did she care for him? Love seemed a bit far-fetched, but he’d settle for strong affection. After all, she was young and of a completely different class. She was everything he wasn’t—and he was a selfish bastard for not giving her up.
But he wouldn’t, not when he’d just found her. Not when she brought joy and life to a dark and desolate world, her touch both calming and necessary to his well-being. Not when he wasn’t certain how he’d manage to survive without her.
Indeed, a selfish bastard.
Rye chuckled. “You should have seen her standing up to Dr. Moore. Wanting to make sure he’d cleaned and sterilized everything.”
With Moore’s raging cocaine addiction, one could never be too certain. “Good. But I wish you hadn’t bothered her. Two days was too long for her to stay here. Her family must be worried.”
“No, she told them she was tending to a sick friend. Which I suppose you are, so it ain’t a lie.”
“Any word from Cooper on the shooter?”
“None. You still thinkin’ O’Shaughnessy?”
“Of course. It’s what I’d do in his position.”
Rye snorted. “You wouldn’t have shot through a window in broad daylight. You’d have come at him when he least expected it.”
“True, but then O’Shaughnessy doesn’t have my flair.”
“What are you doing?”
The high-pitched shout startled Jack and he nearly tripped. He slumped against the wall for support. “Jesus, Justine.” She must’ve come in using the key Rye gave her—an item given without asking Jack’s permission first, he might add—and had snuck up on them. “How are you so quiet?”
She drew closer, her gaze sweeping his face, assessing. “I thought you might be asleep. How was I to know you were promenading along the corridor?”
“I’m stretching my legs.”
“You look about ready to pass out.” She pinned Rye with a hard stare. “He needs to be in bed.”
Rye raised his palms, all innocence. “I just follow orders, miss. He’s not one to listen to me, not like he does to you.”
“I knew I should have stayed.” She put her shoulder under Jack, taking some of his weight. “Back to bed with you.”
“You cannot stay here round the clock,” Jack said. “And Rye is perfectly capable of—”
“Letting you run roughshod over him, apparently. Though he did shave you, so I cannot complain too much about him.”
They hobbled into Jack’s bedroom. “So you like my whisker-free face, do you?”
“You know that I do, you vain man.”
Slowly, he lowered himself onto the mattress, Justine holding on to one of his arms. When he was flat on his back, she said, “I want to check your incision.”
“No more poking and prodding, cara. I am fine.”
“You are not fine and I will be checking. I’m quite happy to have Rye hold you down while I do so, if necessary.”
Christ. Had he admired her stubbornness before? “I’ll allow it on one condition.”
One brown brow shot up and her arms crossed over her chest. “Bargaining, Jack? Really?”
“If you don’t wish to check the sutures . . .”
She smirked and shook her head in what he assumed was extreme exasperation. “What is your condition?”
“That you get into bed with me when you’re done.”
“That is not a good idea. Any sort of vigorous activity could reopen that wound.”
“Not for vigorous activity. I merely want to hold you. On my good side, I swear.”
Her expression softened into something affectionate and tender. His chest expanded at that look and what it might mean, the feelings it might convey. He held out his hand, desperate to feel her. “I miss touching you.”
“All right.” She slipped her hand into his and squeezed. “On your good side.”
She released him and went to clean her hands in his washroom. When she returned, she peeled open his dressing gown, unbuttoned his union suit and lifted the bandage. He held still, letting her satisfy her curiosity, though he knew she wouldn’t see any sign of infection there. While she didn’t touch the wound, she brushed his skin as she worked, her cool fingers skimming his stomach as she refastened his clothing. Her flowery clean scent wrapped around him, and he inhaled, dragging this reminder of her into his lungs. Lying here, smelling and feeling her, almost made being injured worth it.
“There. I am finished. See, that wasn’t so terrible.”
“I never thought it would be. I just wanted you to lie down with me.”
She chuckled and collected her skirts in preparation of climbing on the bed. “You are a devious man.” Paper crinkled in her skirts. “Oh, I nearly forgot. Cooper asked me to give these to you. I saw him outside.”
Cooper had been outside? “What are they?”
“Messages from the club, I believe.” She handed over a stack of paper. Jack began flipping through the notes and letters. Most could wait.
A cable near the bottom caught his eye. He tore it open.
DEAL OFF. YOUR ASSOCIATION IN VENTURE TOO RISKY.
HATCHER
Fuck.
Jack’s fist tightened around the paper, crumpling it. The shooting had obviously scared Hatcher. Jack understood this even as he hated it. But no one had been shooting at Hatcher. And they were going into business together, not socializing on a regular basis. As far as Jack was concerned, he and Hatcher never need be in the same room again for the rest of their lives.
“Bad news?”
He blinked up at Justine, who watched his face carefully. “Nothing I cannot fix, I hope.”
She plucked all the messages and letters from his hands. “You may look at all these later.” Then she settled on the mattress and gingerly nestled into his uninjured side. The warmth of her sank into his bones. He felt a little embarrassed at the pleasure he derived from just being with her.
“Would you like to talk about it?”
An automatic refusal sprang to his lips . . . but he quashed it. Perhaps due to her proximity and how relaxed she made him, but he did want to talk about it with her. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d discussed his business with someone other than Rye or Cooper. However, Justine was smart and even-tempered. Logical. She might have insight into some of the problems he faced.
“Remember the man I needed to meet with at the fundraiser?”
“I do.”
“His name is Julius Hatcher. He’s an investor in the Little Water Street Brewery.”
“I’ve met Mr. Hatcher. His wife is a friend of my oldest sister.”
“I am in the process of taking the brewery national. We’ll produce and ship beer all over the country. And I need Hatcher’s support to do it.”
“What a great idea.” She caressed his chest. “You are so clever.”
“Thank you. I know it’s a great idea and I thought I had Hatcher convinced.”
“But?”
“But then I was shot. During our meeting at the brewery.”
“You were meeting with Hatcher when you were shot?”
“I was.”
She exhaled slowly. “And now he’s reconsidering the venture?”
He pressed his lips to the top of her head. Smart, this woman. “Correct. He says my association makes the entire thing too risky.”
“You can hardly fault him. Poor man’s probably still in shock. He’s a notorious recluse and seeing you shot in front of his eyes undoubtedly had a lasting impression on him.”
“None of it is my fault, either. Not to mention that I’m the one who was shot, not him.”
“I would say some of it is your fault. You lead the life of your own choosing—and it’s a dangerous one. You’ve never made any excuses for it, but you have to know the risks.”
He did, all too well. The proof was the burning ache in his side at present.
“I am not ask
ing him to share office space with me. We don’t even need to see one another in person again. There’s no risk to his physical person.”
“True, but there is risk to your physical person. What happens to this beer business if you’re killed? I’m assuming, as it is your idea, that you are doing the hard labor in the distribution and transportation of the beer. Hatcher could hire someone to replace you, but would they have your ambition or contacts? Your charm or business acumen? My guess is that Hatcher knows no one can pull off such a feat but you.”
Jack stared at the ceiling and considered this. Was this why the shooting had spooked Hatcher? If so, Jack could arrange for contingencies should something happen to one of the three partners. Doing so might ease Hatcher’s concerns enough to change his mind.
He squeezed her tight to his side. “You might be right. Consequently, I really need to kiss you right now. Come up here.”
“Absolutely not. You need to rest, not get all worked up.”
“I promise not to get worked up. All I want is a kiss.”
Carefully, she leaned up on her elbow and met his lips with her own. She tried to keep it chaste, but he dragged his mouth over hers, his arm clamped around her back to prevent an instant retreat. He was starving for her, a bone-deep lust that not even a terrible injury could prevent. Thrusting his tongue past her lips, he tasted her, swirling and stroking, until they were both out of breath.
He pressed his face into the silken strands of her hair. “I would beg to fuck you if I thought you wouldn’t worry about my injury.”
“No begging would be required if you were healed.”
“Then I guess I’d better heal damn quickly.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Though it was the afternoon, the club buzzed with activity. Justine hadn’t been here since before Jack’s injury nearly a week ago. Jack had insisted on returning to his duties the day after receiving Hatcher’s cable, determined to make the national brewery happen. The incision was healing, becoming what would end up as another scar on his battered body.
She hoped to see that body again soon. Perhaps tonight.
Her sisters had dropped the issue of Jack, thankfully. Remaining home each night must have reassured them that nothing was going on between their youngest sister and Jack Mulligan. Florence was in the house more often of late, coming into Justine’s room at odd hours to “ask a question.” Everyone thought Florence was a terrific liar, but Justine knew what her sister was doing. Merely ensuring that Justine was in the house, not sneaking off to see Jack.
Justine felt slightly guilty about deceiving them. As a rule she didn’t care for lying. However, this was different. The matter was none of their business—especially when both sisters had done the exact same thing recently. Justine had never interfered with their romantic lives, never forbidding them to see a man from a different background.
And Jack was a good man. Perhaps a bit rough around the edges, but he was decent and kind.
Surprisingly, he’d asked her to come to the club today instead of Bond Street. She had no idea what this was about. He hadn’t mentioned a thing yesterday during their time together.
Climbing the stairs, she passed Cooper. “Hello. Are you well today, Cooper?”
“Fine, thank you, miss. He said to send you right in.”
Justine didn’t bother knocking on Jack’s door. She turned the knob and stepped inside. Jack saw her and rose from behind his desk, and the man seated across from him turned around.
It was Keller, the Tammany Hall man who’d refused her request for the police department.
Her heart began racing, anticipation skipping through her. Was this a meeting about that request?
Keller stood, as well. He didn’t look nearly as put together as the last time she’d seen him. This man was sweaty, flushed. His hands clutched a black derby so hard the hatband had crumpled.
“Miss Greene, thank you for coming.” Jack’s booming voice echoed throughout the room. “Won’t you shut the door, please?”
Justine closed the door behind her and approached the desk. “Hello, gentlemen. I trust I am not interrupting.”
“Not a bit. We were just discussing you.” Jack came forward and gave her a bow worthy of a viscount. “Come have a seat. You know Mr. Keller, I’m told.”
“Good afternoon, Mr. Keller.” She took the open seat across from Jack’s desk.
Keller dipped his chin politely. “Miss Greene.”
Jack relaxed in his large chair and steepled his fingers. “I believe Mr. Keller has some good news for you, Miss Greene.”
“Indeed, I do.” He cast a quick glance in Jack’s direction before meeting Justine’s eyes. “We would be honored to appoint you as the first woman to the New York City Police Department.”
Jack had promised it, but Justine hadn’t believed the appointment would happen until she actually heard the words. She clasped her hands together in her lap to try and control her excitement. If the room were empty she would have danced a jig. Instead, she tried to look calm and mature. “That is excellent news, Mr. Keller. You won’t regret this. I shall work very hard.”
“We know you will.”
“That is kind of you to say. I hope to earn my detective’s badge within two or three years.”
Keller’s brows drew together, and he appeared even more nervous. “You don’t understand, Miss Greene. You need not earn a detective’s badge. I am having you appointed as a detective, not a roundsman.”
Not earn it? “I suppose I don’t understand, then. All officers start as roundsmen. Then they are promoted to detective after proving their abilities.”
“You’ve already proven your abilities.” Jack gave her a patient and fond smile. “There’s no need for you to struggle your way up the ladder. Right, Keller?”
Keller swallowed, his nod a touch too emphatic. “Definitely. Yes. Indeed, no need at all.”
“But, you told me I would be taking a job away from a man with a family to support.”
“We don’t need to worry about that any longer.”
Didn’t need to worry about that? Unease swept through her and her stomach turned over. Something was not right. She was being given a position she did not deserve. One she wanted, but only after she had earned it.
And she knew why this was happening.
You asked for his help. This is what Jack Mulligan’s help looks like.
She thought he would get her in, not have her running the place. The other men would never respect her if she waltzed in as a detective. They would barely respect her after she proved her worth. But at least it would be something. Coming in at a higher rank would merely earn her enemies.
“I would like to start out as everyone else. Then I’ll earn my spot as detective.”
Keller shot a look at Jack, one that spoke volumes. It said Keller had no idea how to respond and that he was deferring to Jack in this matter.
Do you honestly think he’ll refuse me?
“That’s unnecessary,” Jack said. “You are already a detective. The badge will merely make it official.”
Was this what she wanted? To be granted favors based on Jack’s power of persuasion? Or worse, because of intimidation or blackmail? How could she ever live with herself if she took the appointment of detective without working for it?
You took his help on everything else. Why stop now?
Perhaps, but it hadn’t been so blatant, so obvious.
Liar. You were able to justify it because it was for a good cause.
Her heart sank, shame crawling through her veins. She had justified it at every step. Help with Gorcey and von Briesen. The fundraiser. She told herself the method didn’t matter as long as the desired result was achieved.
Jack Mulligan is like a spider, Justine. You’ve fallen into his web and the more you let him, the deeper he’ll pull you in.
And here she was, caught in his web. About to wear a police detective badge she hadn’t earned. So many people had tried to tell her
and she hadn’t listened. Had defended him because she cared about him.
Wrong, you love him.
Yes, she did love him, more than anything. But, she could not become this person. This was not who she was, someone who traded in deals and favors. She believed in honesty and fairness, speaking up for those without a voice. Doing the right thing, no matter what.
And this was not right. Not by a mile.
Silence descended and she could sense Jack’s confusion as he stared at her. She ached at the sight of his handsome face, those piercing blue eyes that could steal a woman’s soul.
As they’d almost stolen hers.
There was only one thing to do. “I apologize, but I must refuse the position.”
Both men gaped at her, but Jack recovered first. “Refuse it? But this is what you wanted.”
Under no circumstances did she wish to have this conversation in front of Keller. She stood and held out her hand. “Mr. Keller, thank you for your time. I am sorry it was in vain.”
Keller rose slowly, gaze darting over to Jack for a brief second before he shook Justine’s hand. “Ah, well. I understand. If you change your mind, please come and see me.”
“I won’t but I appreciate the offer.”
Jack sighed heavily and came to his feet. “Keller, thank you for coming down.”
“Anytime, Mulligan.” He shoved his derby on his head, touching the brim. “Miss Greene.” Without looking back, he disappeared out the door.
Silence descended and Justine forged ahead.
Drawing in a deep breath, she faced Jack. “I cannot see you anymore.”
Jack froze, certain he’d misheard. “You cannot see me anymore?”
“Correct.”
Was she feeling all right? She’d just turned down an appointment to police detective, the one thing she’d truly wanted, and now she was breaking things off with him. What had he missed? “I don’t understand. You’re angry with me about meeting with Keller?”