The Devil of Downtown

by Joanna Shupe

  Men began trickling out of the saloon, lining up in front of the building like a brick wall. They also held weapons, and didn’t appear all that surprised to find a mob on their doorstep. The air was thick with tension. Despite the show of hostility, she didn’t wish for anyone to get hurt. “Let me try and reason with O’Shaughnessy first,” she murmured to Cooper.

  “Absolutely not. There’s no reasoning with him.”

  “We have to try. If Jack is still alive, then we may be able to avoid bloodshed today.”

  “If they’ve killed Jack, the men and I will burn this place to the ground.”

  Justine almost wouldn’t blame them. She would want to hurt Trevor O’Shaughnessy in such a case. “Cool heads must prevail, Cooper, until we know what has happened.”

  A man emerged from the saloon and walked directly toward Justine. “Miss Greene,” he said. “O’Shaughnessy would like a word inside.”

  “Absolutely not,” Cooper snapped. “She does her talking right here.”

  “O’Shaughnessy says he’ll only talk inside. And he said to say that Jack is still alive. But that won’t remain the case if she doesn’t come in.”

  Justine’s mouth dried out. O’Shaughnessy isn’t the type to bluff. The policeman’s words had her turning to Cooper. “I’ll be fine. Stay here with the men. If something happens . . .”

  Cooper took her elbow. “This is a mistake. Jack wouldn’t want you putting yourself at risk like this.”

  “O’Shaughnessy won’t hurt me. My family is very powerful in this city. Trust me, I will return.”

  Before Cooper could wage any further arguments, Justine followed the man into the saloon. Lights blazed inside and she needed a few seconds for her eyes to adjust to the bright interior. When she could focus, what she discovered nearly brought her to her knees.

  A stocky man with black hair and dead eyes stood across from her, his hand holding a knife to Jack’s throat. Jack’s gaze burned with recriminations and anger, but he said nothing. Merely stared at her intently, as if terrified to take his eyes off her. His arms were tied behind his back, his clothes rumpled and torn. Blood oozed from a cut on the side of his lip.

  He’d fought, obviously. That didn’t surprise her. Jack was a survivor, no matter the fancy suits and smooth charm.

  Whatever it takes I will get him out of here.

  She transferred her attention to the man with the knife. “Mr. O’Shaughnessy.”

  “Miss Greene. I see you’ve been busy.”

  “There are hundreds of men outside. More are on the way. We are prepared to do whatever is necessary to free Mr. Mulligan.”

  “And are you?”

  “Am I, what?”

  “Prepared to do whatever is necessary. What are you willing to do for Mulligan’s release?”

  “Don’t promise him a goddamn thing,” Jack snarled.

  O’Shaughnessy pressed the knife deeper into Jack’s throat, and a trickle of blood ran down into Jack’s collar. Gritting her teeth, she watched that trickle and ached for Jack. He must be absolutely furious with himself for falling into O’Shaughnessy’s hands.

  “She’ll give me an answer or I’ll spill your guts here on the floor. So, what is it, Miss Greene. How would you save your lover?”

  There was no debating that word. O’Shaughnessy clearly knew of the relationship before sending her the ransom note. Nor would it help to admit that they were no longer lovers. That she’d walked away and Jack had let her. “I do not have ten thousand dollars. Not on such short notice.”

  “Pity. But then, I’d never really expected you to pay up.”

  “Then why send the ransom note at all?”

  “Because killing him quickly would have been too easy. And you wouldn’t have been here to witness it.”

  Oh, Lord. He’d wanted her here the whole time? Perhaps Cooper had been right. Perhaps she should have gone home instead.

  “He won’t kill me, Justine. He won’t risk it, not with all those men outside.”

  O’Shaughnessy’s smile turned cold. “You’re not the only one with secret tunnels. I’ll be long gone before your men make it inside the front door.”

  “Then what do you possibly want?” Jack asked.

  “Maybe I want her,” O’Shaughnessy said.

  “Over my dead body.”

  “That’s exactly what I’m plannin’, Mulligan. Too bad you won’t still be around to see it.”

  Justine’s heart pounded in her chest as she slipped her hand into her pocket. O’Shaughnessy was planning on raping her? With an army at her back? “You won’t get away with it. Not with all of Mulligan’s men outside.”

  “My men will hold them off just long enough until I get you into one of the tunnels.”

  Lifting her arm, she aimed a loaded pistol at O’Shaughnessy. “Let him go.”

  The weapon didn’t appear to faze O’Shaughnessy at all. “Have you ever fired a pistol? I’m betting you haven’t and that your aim is shit.”

  “Are you willing to risk it?”

  “I’m fairly certain I can slit his throat, dodge your bullet and get to you before you can fire again.”

  “Fairly certain is not certain.”

  His lips twisted. “I didn’t get to where I am today by not taking risks, Miss Greene.”

  “Living in Jack Mulligan’s shadow, you mean?”

  Jack’s eyes closed briefly, his expression pained, and she wondered if O’Shaughnessy had hurt him again. “Justine,” he growled.

  She soon understood why. The taunt seemed to enrage O’Shaughnessy, his eyes bulging and his skin turning red. “Let’s see if your aim is any good.” He moved his hand as if to slice Jack’s throat—

  “Wait,” Jack blurted. “I’ll give you everything.”

  Jack expected the words to hurt or perhaps cause the building to collapse. They were monumental, something he’d sworn never to bargain with: his empire. The one he’d built with his own two hands through sweat and blood and cunning. But, he’d offered it up willingly. Gladly.

  If it would save her, he’d give up ten empires.

  She’d arrived here like an avenging angel with an army behind her to free him from his enemy. Somehow, she’d organized that mob outside, one he could see through the saloon’s front window. Then she’d come inside to barter and trade insults with a thug like O’Shaughnessy. Brandished a pistol like Annie Oakley, for fuck’s sake.

  Look at what you’ve turned her into. Look at what you’ve made her do.

  This woman who hated violence, who tried to stay on the right side of good, and he’d caused her to become a hooligan, just like him. Christ, he hated himself in that moment. Hated everything he’d ever done in the name of building that empire. Because it had somehow rubbed off on her, tainted her pristine soul.

  She did not deserve this. To watch Jack’s blood spill at her feet before shooting a bullet at another human being, even if O’Shaughnessy deserved it. Jack couldn’t bear the thought of it. And what happened if the bullet missed? It turned his blood to ice.

  So, he’d bargain with whatever he had left, pride be damned.

  “No, Jack,” she started. “Do not—”

  “All of it,” he told O’Shaughnessy. “You can have it all.”

  “Now, this I did not expect,” O’Shaughnessy said. “I thought you’d go down stoically, not bargaining for your life.”

  He was bargaining for Justine’s life, actually. “Let Miss Greene, Rye and I leave here tonight and I’ll give you everything.”

  “Jack, you cannot do that,” Justine said, her pistol still trained on O’Shaughnessy. “I’ll shoot him.”

  And earn a stain on her soul? He couldn’t allow that. “Trevor, I swear it.”

  “How can I believe you?”

  “Bring Rye out here.”

  “Why?”

  “Because my word is law. And he won’t believe it unless he hears it directly from me.”

  O’Shaughnessy must have motioned to his men beca
use a few of them disappeared at a side door. Jack tried to even out his breathing, remain calm. The knife remained at his neck, the point digging into the skin at his jugular. He knew that one flick of O’Shaughnessy’s wrist would sever that artery and Jack would bleed out on the floor. In front of Justine.

  Rye appeared seconds later, the older man’s face worried but unscathed. He exhaled when his gaze lit on Jack. “Oh, thank God.” Then he saw Justine and the pistol. “Miss Greene, what are you doing with that gun?” He tried to take a step forward but O’Shaughnessy’s men grabbed his shoulders, preventing him from moving.

  “Rye, I have agreed to turn over everything to O’Shaughnessy.”

  Rye’s eyes grew round but he didn’t argue. “What do you need from me?”

  “You’ll aid in transferring everything over after I tell the men.” Rye nodded once. “Trevor, do you promise to let the three of us leave once I speak to them?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then let’s get it done. Rye, take Miss Greene and join the others outside.”

  “Jack, I don’t like this.” Justine’s hand trembled, the pistol still trained on O’Shaughnessy. “Let us stay with you.”

  Though touching, the offer was unacceptable. He needed her as far away from this place and these men as possible. Somehow, he had to make amends for dragging her into the filth and violence downtown. “It’s better if you go.”

  Hurt flashed over her expression, the same look she’d worn when he told her he’d do his best to forget her. The cruelty pained him but it was necessary. Only when she was safe would he be able to think clearly.

  She lowered the pistol and O’Shaughnessy’s men quickly ushered her and Rye outside. Through the glass, he could see his men, itching to fight. O’Shaughnessy’s crew blocked the saloon, not backing down in the face of Jack’s army. If Justine weren’t out there, vulnerable, perhaps Jack would let the two sides battle it out. He had the numbers over O’Shaughnessy.

  But she was there, worried over his safety, still wanting to save him. The perpetual rescuer. He could not allow any harm to befall her today, not because of him.

  O’Shaughnessy and another man dragged Jack out front. The knife remained firmly between Jack’s shoulder blades. “Let’s see if you’re as good as your word,” O’Shaughnessy said in Jack’s ear.

  The crowd quieted when the trio emerged. Jack could see O’Shaughnessy’s men all down Broome Street, while his men curled in the opposite direction, toward Bowery. Justine, Rye and Cooper stood in the middle. The sight of her there filled him with both fear and shame.

  There was only one thing Jack could do: live to fight another day.

  “Men,” he called to the faces he’d known for years. “I will be turning everything over to O’Shaughnessy. I ask that you show him the same respect and loyalty you have shown me. This city cannot deteriorate into the blood and carnage of days past. To prevent that, I am stepping aside. I thank you for—”

  O’Shaughnessy didn’t let him finish. He yanked Jack backward into the saloon. “No need to get maudlin, Mulligan. Not where you’re going.” The knife returned to Jack’s throat.

  “Even though you promised to let me go?”

  “I’m not known for keeping my promises.”

  Jack had expected this, actually. It was exactly what Jack would have done in similar circumstances. So, he didn’t hesitate. He jerked away from the knife, getting a hand up to block it, then threw an elbow into O’Shaughnessy’s face. Bone crunched and blood spurted. He shoved O’Shaughnessy out of the way and dodged the two other men in the saloon with his fists.

  They clearly didn’t see the need to worry about Jack escaping when the only exit was blocked by hundreds of men. Jack didn’t head toward the street, however. He had another destination in mind, one O’Shaughnessy was unaware Jack knew about.

  The secret tunnel under the saloon.

  No one had more information on the tunnels in this part of town than Jack. When O’Shaughnessy grew more powerful, Jack had made it his business to learn about this building and what lay underneath it. The door to the tunnel was in the storage room below. He flew down the stairs into the cellar and dodged the crates of liquor until he found the false wall on the west side. Slipping inside it, he made certain to close the wall carefully, so they’d never know he’d found it.

  Then he disappeared into the tunnels below the city.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  It took her a few days to work up the nerve to visit Bond Street.

  Justine knew Jack hadn’t died at Broome Street Hall, not after O’Shaughnessy came running out looking like a deranged lunatic, blood all over his face, screaming, asking where Mulligan had gone. That Jack somehow escaped filled her with hope, the relief so palpable she nearly collapsed. Then Rye had thrown a man’s coat over her head and began smuggling her through the crowd, away from the danger.

  “Don’t you worry, miss,” Rye had told her as she boarded an uptown hansom. “Old Jack always finds a way.”

  She didn’t doubt it. He was the most resourceful and intelligent man she’d ever known. And, now that he’d turned his empire over to O’Shaughnessy, Jack was free to pursue something else. Like a national brewery, or another business opportunity. Anything other than danger and vice.

  Which meant they could be together.

  She loved him, and the past few days had taught her that life was short. Anything could happen at any moment. Therefore, shouldn’t she grab any happiness she could find while still alive? Jack had said he would try to forget her, but she didn’t believe he actually meant it. Not when he’d given it all away to save her and Rye from O’Shaughnessy.

  He still cared about her.

  All she needed to do was to convince him to give them a chance.

  She waited until dark had long settled on the city. Wearing a long cloak, she approached his front door and rang the bell. She hadn’t told anyone she was coming, but she knew Jack would be here, plotting the next stage of his life. She desperately longed to be part of that plot.

  The door swung open to reveal Rye. His expression softened when he saw her under the hood. “Hello, miss. I was wonderin’ when you’d stop by.”

  She crossed into the entryway and unbuttoned her cloak. “How is he doing?”

  “Not sleepin’. Not eating.” He shook his head. “I’m starting to worry.”

  She threw her cloak over the bannister and started up the stairs. Rye called out, “Wait, miss. He’s not up there.”

  Oh. Pausing, she turned on the step. “Where is he?”

  “Downstairs. At the bowling lane.”

  By the time she reached the basement, the sound was nearly deafening. Jack was in shirtsleeves, no necktie or collar, hair askew, at the mouth of the lane. Sweat dampened his clothes, making them stick to his body. At the other end of the lane, Cooper was scurrying to reset the pins.

  Jack picked up another ball, his foot tapping with impatience. “Hurry up, damn it.”

  Justine felt a pang of sympathy for Cooper. “Hello, Jack.”

  He spun toward her, his expression flat and unwelcoming. “What are you doing here?” He looked terrible. Gaunt and exhausted. Dark circles under eyes rimmed with red.

  “I wanted to see you.”

  “Why?” He weaved, unsteady on his feet, and she feared he might topple over.

  “May we sit somewhere and talk?”

  “I don’t want to talk.” Turning, he hurled the ball down the lane, all ten pins exploding at the impact. Cooper jumped out of the way, covering his head for protection.

  “Jack, please,” she said quietly.

  Cooper started walking away, ignoring the mess. Jack put his hands on his hips. “Where are you going? Reset those goddamn pins!”

  Cooper kept moving. “I’m starving. I’m going to the kitchen and getting something to eat.”

  Jack said nothing, merely cursed under his breath. When they were alone, he cocked his head at her. “What do you want, Justine?”


  “When was the last time you slept?”

  “Hoping to get me into bed? I thought you put an end to all that.”

  “I am not trying to get you into bed. I am worried about you.”

  “Of course you are. But it turned out you were right. I am poison, after all. At least where you are concerned.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  He returned his ball to the rack then thrust his hands in his pockets. “You said I would corrupt you—and I did.”

  “Are you referring to what happened with O’Shaughnessy? Because I don’t regret any of it.”

  “You never should have been involved.”

  “I had no choice. He sent me the ransom note and I went to the police. They wouldn’t help me, so I went to Cooper and organized the men.”

  “Yes, I heard all about your Joan of Arc speech, mobilizing the masses.” He shook his head. “Leading a mob down Bowery. Brandishing a pistol. Trading insults with O’Shaughnessy. I wouldn’t believe it if I hadn’t been there to witness it.”

  Her back straightened, the words hinting at wounds she’d prefer stay closed. “Why? Because I’m naive and sheltered?”

  “Because you are good and decent and the purest person I have ever met in my life!” he shouted, his blue eyes wild. “You almost killed a man because of me. It’s not an easy thing, Justine. Do you know what that does to you, the weight on your soul when you take another person’s life? You’d see it in your nightmares for the rest of your life.”

  “I wouldn’t think twice if it meant saving you.”

  “Then you’re a fool!”

  Her skin burned, the words like a match to her insides. “No, I am in love with you!” she shouted.

  Horrified, she covered her mouth with her hand, almost as if she was afraid of what else might escape. She hadn’t wanted to tell him this way. Not until she knew if the feelings were reciprocated.

  He traded his empire for my safety. The feelings had to be reciprocated. There was no other explanation for what he’d done.

  He staggered backward, his skin losing whatever color it had. “Impossible. You cannot . . . love me.”