The Devil of Downtown (Uptown Girls, #3)

by Joanna Shupe

“I know you won’t. You’re not a mustache-twirling villain, like the men in those penny stories.” His jaw dropped open, but she didn’t have time for more banter. Gorcey must be found before Mulligan had a chance to warn him. She let herself out and started down the corridor. Just as she reached the stairs, Mulligan came up behind her. “Miss Greene.” She looked up at him. His broad chest and shoulders nearly blocked all of the soft gaslight overhead. “Yes?” “I may not have a mustache but I am indeed a villain. You’d be wise to remember it.”

“If I meet Mrs. Gorcey and hear her side, then I might be willing to force Robert to do right by her.” Instead of appearing appeased, she frowned. “Hear her side? There are no sides to this story. The idea that she has to convince you of her hardships so that her husband will live up to his promises is insulting.”

“Am I boring you?” She glanced up at Mulligan’s question. “Of course not.” What had he been talking about? Right, the art he’d seen on a recent trip to Paris. “I haven’t been to Paris since I was a girl.” He cocked a brow, his handsome face turning curious. “I thought all good heiresses went to Paris each year for their wardrobes.” “I’m not that sort of heiress.” “What kind of heiress are you, then?” “The rebellious kind, I suppose.” “I am noticing that. Here I’ve been trying to impress you and clearly missing the mark.” “Why would you be trying to impress me?” “Because I am vain. Not only am I a man in the presence of a beautiful woman, that woman happens to come from one of the best families in the city.” Beautiful? She nearly snorted. He’d clearly mistaken her for one of her sisters. “You don’t need to impress me. As soon as Mr. Gorcey agrees to take care of his wife, I’ll be out of your way.”

“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.”

“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.”

“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?”

Qui n’avance pas, recule. Who does not move forward, recedes. It was how Jack lived his life.

“Does that ever grow annoying?” He tipped his derby at a woman calling out to him from her downstairs window. “The adulation, you mean?” “Ha. Hardly adulation. More like pandering.” “I cannot help if my people revere me.” “They don’t revere you. They fear you.” He frowned at her. “I would never hurt the people of these streets.”

“Mrs. Hoffman,” Justine said. “I would prefer water. And if you could tell me the special before I decide to order it, I’d be most grateful.” She asked nicely enough but Jack got the impression that Justine was annoyed. What had he done wrong? Mrs. Hoffman explained the dish, sauerbraten, which was roasted meat served with dumplings and cabbage. Justine proclaimed that would be fine and Mrs. Hoffman departed. Jack tapped his fingers on the table. “Don’t trust me?” “I do not care to have my choices taken away from me, no matter how small.” Brass ones. She was no wilting uptown flower. He liked that about her. “I was merely trying to help. Relax, everything here is delicious.” “I am only here because you gave me no choice in the matter.” “Life is short, Miss Greene. We must enjoy what pleasures we can before it’s too late.” Her gaze flicked to his mouth on the word pleasures and even the dark interior could not hide the color now staining her cheeks. Interesting. He hadn’t meant the comment as innuendo but it seemed the little do-gooder was not so innocent. Very interesting.

“I wish to collect on my favor.” That gained her attention. Her face slackened, her mouth opening slightly. “Now you bring this up? Why did you not tell me this at police headquarters or over our interminable lunch?” Because she would’ve heard him out and disappeared. Instead, he’d wanted to drag out their encounter. Never mind the reasons why. “That is immaterial. Would you care to hear what I require of you?” “Yes, with the caveat that I may refuse.” Not a chance. No one reneged on Jack Mulligan. “Then get in.” He gestured to the brougham at the curb, with Rye in the driver’s seat. “No. Tell me here.” So stubborn. He almost admired her for it. “No. This is too public for my tastes. I prefer to have my conversations away from those who might be listening.” She glanced at the brougham, examining it for a long moment. Jack couldn’t fathom what she hoped to see. “No tricks,” he said. “I merely wish for a private conversation while I give you a ride downtown. I’ll keep my hands to myself.” Her head swiveled sharply, her face taut. “I am hardly worried about that. You’ve made it abundantly clear I am not your type.” “And you believe I am puddle scum, as I recall. So, I think we are both safe for the short journey.” “Fine, but you still owe me the ride even if I refuse your request.”

“Do you trust me?” “Absolutely not.” That caused him to throw his head back and laugh. “Smart girl. Considering the thoughts running through my head at the moment, you’d be wise not to.” “What do you mean?” His head tilted as he perused her from head to toe. Something about the slow examination made her feel both hot and cold at the same time. “Impure thoughts,” he rasped. “About you.” Oh, heavens. He’s having impure thoughts about me. The idea was dizzying. Yet, this was not the time or the place for her fantasies to come to life.

“Tina,” she said, using her childhood nickname for Justine. “There’s unsuitable, like Clayton Madden. And then there’s catastrophic, like Mulligan. Do not confuse the two. Daddy and Mama might come to terms with unsuitable. However, you’ll be shipped off to a convent in Europe before they allow catastrophic.” Justine bristled, her shoulders pinching. She hated being treated like a child, especially from older sisters who had certainly caused their share of scandal. The truth spilled out of her mouth. “You do not need to worry about that. He flat out declared I am not his type.” Mamie’s eyes rounded. “I don’t believe it. I saw how he looked at you. How he treated you. He’s interested. Mark my words.”

“Thank you to the Greene family for allowing me to come tonight so that I may speak about the legal aid society and their importance to the citizens of downtown Manhattan. You see, newspapermen like to focus on the fantastic stories that sell papers. They would have you believe that below Fourteenth Street lies nothing but sin and immorality, dirt and violence. They won’t tell you about the young girls who are forced to work in factories. Or, the mother who sews by candlelight to make ends meet for her family. The boys who work around the clock shining shoes and selling papers. The husbands breaking their backs on the docks and in the slaughterhouses.” He paused and looked around the audience. “But I will. I see these people every day. I know their names. These are good people, decent people. Many have come here from faraway places, hoping for a better life. They live in one- or two-room flats, often with three and four to a bed. They work hard, but they may not know our language or customs as well as we do.” Justine could see where he was going with this. It was a stroke of brilliance. Brazen, too. Who would have ever thought he’d do such a thing? “That is why the legal aid society is so important. Mr. Tripp and his team of lawyers are able to help our city’s residents with tasks that would otherwise elude them. This is not just about funding a criminal defense in case of arrest. This is about helping those with unfair landlords and cheating employers. Completing job appl...

She might not be his type, but right now, at this moment, Mulligan was very much her type.

“And so I ask you, the very brightest jewels of New York society, won’t you open your hearts and your billfolds? I myself have donated fifty thousand dollars. I wonder if any here could match that donation. Mr. Cavendish?” He pointed to a box on the second tier. “Mr. Bryce? Mr. Irvin? Mr. Randolph? I look forward to hearing of your generosity, and the generosity of everyone else tonight. Thank you for listening, and now on with the performance.”

“Clever man,” Justine’s grandmother muttered. “Yes. That was quite a speech,” Justine said. “It was more than that. He practically blackmailed those four gentlemen to match his donation or else.” Justine frowned. Blackmail? Granny was being dramatic. Mulligan had issued a challenge to those men, but that was no blackmail threat. “No, that was not what he meant.” “My dear, I have lived long enough to read between what is said and not said. A man like Mulligan must have damning information on nearly everyone of consequence in this city. If it suited his purposes, he wouldn’t hesitate to use it any way he saw fit.” “I do not doubt it. But, why on earth would he care? Why threaten anyone here at the fundraiser tonight? What would he possibly hope to gain?” “Clearly he hopes to gain the one thing he’ll never have: you.” More fluttering in her chest. “That’s absurd. We are acquaintances, nothing more.” “After tonight, it had better not even be that. I do not want to see you hurt. And your father will never approve.” “I hadn’t planned on seeing Mulligan again. You do not need to worry about me. I’m hardly Mamie or Florence.” “That is precisely what worries me. For all their wild ways, your sisters are able to handle themselves in any situation. You are more thoughtful, more reserved. More trusting. I wouldn’t like anyone taking advantage of you.” “Trusting and reserved do not equate with weak, Granny.” “True, but you must admit that Mulligan is beyond the bounds of what your fath...

“You said I wasn’t your type.” Her voice was barely above a whisper. “I lied. Shall I prove it to you?”

“Stay,” he whispered and inched closer, and she held her breath. “Stay and I’ll make all your darkest dreams come true.”

“That’s how the city works, Miss Greene. You are kidding yourself if you believe otherwise.” “I still have to try. Perhaps my father could help.” “Or perhaps you could ask Mulligan.” She frowned at his sarcastic tone. “That was unnecessary, Detective.” “I apologize.” His mouth twisted with what seemed like honest regret, like he’d take the words back if he could. “I admit, I am a little bothered by your association with him. Here I thought I was helping you because you had no other option. Only, it turns out you’re cozy with one of the city’s biggest criminals.” “It almost sounds like you’re jealous.” “Maybe I am.” Sweet Lord. She’d been joking but his response was utterly serious. Her jaw fell open and she took a step back, putting distance between them. Contrition washed over his features and he held up his hands. “No, not like that. Not in a romantic sense. But, in a professional sense. I thought you needed me.”

“What would the wager entail?” “If I’m right, you owe me a favor. And I offer the same in reverse should I be proven wrong.” “So if I’m right then you owe me a favor.” “Yes.” “I can’t think of anything I want from you,” she said with a wrinkle of her nose. “You can’t?” he murmured. “What a pity.” There were many, many things he’d like from Justine, not all of them suitable for polite conversation. Most of them centered on the topic of her pussy and his tongue.

“Have you ever bet on the races before?” “I haven’t. That’s more Florence’s tastes than mine.” “How do you know if you’ve never tried it?” She lifted a delicate shoulder. “I fail to see the appeal. So, a horse comes in first, second or third. What is the fuss?” Jack lifted a hand and beckoned one of the young boys. He withdrew five dollars. “The lady wishes to place a bet in the next race.” Addressing Justine, he pointed to the board. Bets were being taken for the fifth race at Sheepshead Bay. “Pick a horse.” “Do we really have time for this?” “There’s as much time as you need. Choose a horse.” “Number three. It’s my favorite number.” The boy wrote on a small slip of paper then handed the betting receipt to Justine. “Race is being called in a few minutes.” She continued to watch the crowd, so Jack cast a surreptitious glance over his shoulder and caught the eye of the bouncer behind the counter. He dropped a twenty-dollar bill on the wood then held up three fingers behind Justine’s back, his brows raised meaningfully. The bouncer accepted the money and stepped out from behind the counter, hurrying toward the screen in the corner.

“And number three is the winner!” the man at the board announced a few seconds later. “Followed by numbers one and eight. See the window for your winnings.” She clutched Jack’s arm. “I cannot believe it. I won. I’ve never won anything before.” “See?” He grinned, the happiness in her expression causing his belly to twist and turn. “Go, collect your winnings.” He jerked his head toward Mac and the window. She presented her receipt to Mac. “It appears I’ve won.” “Indeed you have, miss. Here you are.” He slid forward a fifty-dollar bill. “Oh, no. That can’t be right.” She turned to Jack. “Fifty dollars?” “Guess number three had some long odds.” Reaching out, he palmed the bill and presented it to her. “Congratulations. Thanks, fellows,” he said to the men behind the counter and led her toward a side door. It was time to go upstairs.

“I could never waste the money on me when I know others need it more.”

“So pure,” he murmured. “All that decentness is the worst kind of temptation to a man like me.” “Why?” she croaked. Bending at the waist, he put his lips near her ear. “Because I want to sink inside and bathe myself in it, then destroy it.”

“Mr. Mulligan! Goodness, it is our lucky day. I am Polly, the purveyor of the fine entertainment on this floor. Now, my love. Tell me, what are you in the mood for? I’ve got girls of every type and background. Young and old, experienced and not. You can have two or even three, if you wish. I’ve heard the rumors.” Rumors? Justine’s brain tripped on that word as she tried to make sense of it. Mulligan bedded multiple women . . . at a time? How did that even work? “Tempting,” he said with what sounded like polite disinterest. “However, we are here to ask you and your girls about someone. A man. He has been missing for several weeks.” Polly’s gaze narrowed on Justine. “What are you, a Pinkerton?” “No, ma’am. I work for the Lower East Side Legal Aid Society. We’re trying to find a Mr. von Briesen. Does that name sound familiar?” “We don’t get a lot of real names around here.” She returned her attention to Mulligan. “My girls are very busy. This ain’t the sort of thing we have time for.” “We have money,” Justine blurted, needing to draw this woman’s focus back to her. For some reason, she couldn’t let Polly fawn all over Mulligan any longer. Best not to examine why. “Well, I would certainly hope so. How much?” “Fifty dollars.” Mulligan made a strangled noise in his throat. “Chérie, have I taught you nothing?” Actually, no. He hadn’t taught her anything. She took the newly acquired fifty-dollar bill out of her handbag and held it up. Polly went to grab it, but Justine jerked the ...

He was quiet, which only confirmed her suspicions that something was off. But she was distracted, as well. His large thigh pressed against her leg, their shoulders locked tight. Everywhere they touched now prickled, like ants were crawling over her skin. Why was there no air in this dashed carriage? She dug for her fan and tried to cool herself. “Tell me why you were so uncomfortable up there.” “What do you mean?” “At first I thought you were worried about my safety or reputation. But the longer we stayed I realized it was something else.” “You’re imagining things.” “Hardly. I know you well enough by now to see a difference in your moods.” He shifted, his body crowding hers in the most delicious way. “I hadn’t realized we were so intimate, mon ange.” “And you’re attempting to deflect my question with flirtation.” Her heart thumped in her chest, the strings on her corset growing tighter by the second. She tried to breathe deeply, keep the blood flowing to her brain. “Is it working?” “No,” she lied and pushed at his chest with her palms. “Stay to your side, Mulligan.” He sighed dramatically but allowed her to put distance between them. “It’s decidedly less fun on my side, though. Are you certain I cannot crawl onto yours?”

“I didn’t really win that fifty dollars, did I?” Surprise flashed across his features before he masked it. “Your horse came in first, didn’t it?” His reaction confirmed it. Somehow Mulligan had rigged that race. “Was the scene outside the poolroom also your doing?” He’d arrived quite quickly, after all. “Why would I do such a thing?” “To gain another favor from me. You were so eager to suggest the wager.” “Because it was impossible I’d lose. And I like having you in my debt.” “Why?” His expression turned positively predatory, like he was ready to devour her. She shivered under his hot blue stare, unable to look away. “Isn’t it obvious?” he said. “You’re a beautiful and charismatic woman. What man wouldn’t angle to have you at his mercy?”

“Do you always ask so many questions?” “Only when others are purposely evasive.”

“Wait a moment.” Justine stepped inside his home, her head swiveling. “You live here. You, Mulligan, the bogeyman of downtown, live here?” “Yes, though I’m not certain bogeyman is the right word to describe me.” “What word would you prefer, then?” “King.” She laughed, her face full of joy, so heart-stoppingly beautiful, that his mouth dried out. “America doesn’t have kings.” “Just wait.” The entire country would know him when he took the brewery nationwide. The only two things Americans cared about were alcohol and money. He would soon have a lot of both. Then Justine sobered, as she looked around at the cavernous entry and the darkened rooms. “Do you have servants?” “No. Maids come in once a week but that’s it. Are you scared to be alone with me?” “Should I be?” “Ma belle, I would never hurt you or ask you to do anything that frightens you. Rye will come in after seeing to the horses. However, if you want to leave, he will drive you home.” “But I won’t get to see your house.” “That’s true. You also won’t get to bowl with me.” “You have a bowling alley here?” He nodded, and she continued, “You actually bowl?” “Indeed—and if you tell anyone I’ll deny it until my dying breath.”

They both held perfectly still, silent, as the boot hit the ground. Neither of them moved. It shouldn’t have felt so extraordinary—it was merely her foot, for heaven’s sake—and yet it did. The sheer silk stockings hid nothing and she could feel the heat pouring off him under her leg. She had the insane desire to slide her silk-covered toes all along the slope of his inner thigh. Then even higher . . . Oh, Lord. That shouldn’t sound so delicious. She closed her eyes in an effort to collect herself. Without warning, the backs of his knuckles brushed her instep. She sucked in a breath, her lids flying open, as tingles trailed in his wake. He froze, his hand in midair. “Have I hurt you?” “No.” She tried to sound casual but most likely failed. “I apologize.” He lifted her foot and placed it on the ground. “I got carried away. I shouldn’t have touched you.” Some wild urge prompted her to blurt, “I didn’t mind.” Don’t stop. Touch me. Lick me again. The thoughts came lightning fast as a flood of wanting crashed through her. He picked up her other foot and brought it to his knee. “You shouldn’t encourage a man like me.” “What do you mean, a man like you?” “A man who can be ruthless when he sees something he wants.” She couldn’t think of anything to say. Was he hinting that he wanted her? Or that he might want her? It was maddening. What man wouldn’t angle to have you at his mercy?

“You’re missing the lesson.” “I’d rather have a different lesson right now.” “What kind of lesson, cara?” “The one where you stop talking.”

“You are so lovely,” he said, his voice deep and gruff. Not his usual cultured tone at all. He was being kind, and she was grateful for it. “Thank you. I know I’m not—” “Stop. If you are about to disparage yourself, I do not want to hear it. Not now, not ever, mon ange.” Her heart tripped over itself in her chest as it expanded and solidified. She wouldn’t be surprised if he could see her heart beating through the layers of clothing. “Mulligan,” she breathed, unable to say more than that one word. She hoped he understood what he was doing to her. “Jack.” “What?” Leaning in, he dragged his nose along her neck, and she heard him inhale. Was he smelling her? “Say my first name when you sigh like that.” She bit her lip, trying not to smile, and met his eyes through her lashes. “Jack.” “Perfect.” He gave her a swift kiss. “Christ, you are utterly perfect.”

“What do you want tonight?” There was quite a long list, actually. “Must I say it out loud?” “Yes, you must. I cannot read your mind and I’d rather not guess. I may intimidate others into doing what I wish, but I’d never intimidate you.” “What do you want tonight?” She sank her teeth into his earlobe and felt a tremor go through him. Nice to know she could affect him, as well. He kissed her shoulder. “I wouldn’t like to scare you. It’s better if you tell me instead.” “You cannot scare me. Haven’t you learned that by now?” “Chérie, I touched my tongue to your skin and you ran from the club like it was on fire.” “I was merely caught off guard, not scared. Not to mention, you’ve done a lot more with your tongue tonight and I haven’t run screaming.” “Yet.” “Jack, come on.” She nudged his shoulder. “I am braver than I appear.” “Really?” His voice was laced with sarcasm and she couldn’t tell if he was teasing her. “Indeed.” “I know you are brave—I knew it within seconds of meeting you—but there is brave and then there is daring. The latter requires fearlessness with a sense of adventure.” “You think I lack a sense of adventure?” “I think you are a woman who gives much of herself to others without considering what she wants most.” He was annoyingly correct. However, considering her wants and desires almost seemed selfish. No one, other than Jack, had ever encouraged her to try. “What I want right now is for you to tell me what you’d like to do, regardless of whether it scares me ...

“I’d start by leading you to my bedroom. I’ve never had a woman there and I’m keen to see you spread out on my bed. I’d undress you, of course, until you were in just your stockings. Then I want to feel your silk-covered feet digging into my back as I’m tonguing your pussy.” She inhaled sharply, her lids sweeping closed on a wave of lust so strong that she nearly moaned. She’d never heard anyone speak such words. She should probably feel appalled or embarrassed. Marginally horrified. Yet, she loved it. The devil kept going. “I want to suck on your clit until you come on my tongue. I want to lap up your juices and smell your sweetness until I’m drowning in it.”

“I want that, too.” He straightened, nearly sending her off his lap and onto the floor. “You . . . what?” “Oh, is it selfish of me to ask for it? Should I offer to—?” “No! Jesus fuck, allowing me to pleasure you would be the greatest gift I’ve ever received.” Slipping his free hand under her knees, he stood in one fluid motion and began carrying her toward the stairs. “Asking for what you want is not selfish. None of this is about who wins or loses. We don’t keep score. If any man ever tries to tell you otherwise, he deserves to be beaten.” “Are you really taking me to your bedroom?” She wrapped her arms around his neck. “Am I about to see where the legendary Jack Mulligan sleeps?” He started up the main staircase. “Other than the maids and me, you will be the only other person to see it.” “And they say you aren’t romantic.” His laugh echoed off the intricate plaster ceilings. “Cara, I am about to show you more romance than your little body can possibly handle.” “More romance than I can handle? Goodness, someone is full of hyperbole tonight.”

“That was amazing,” she said. Her eyes were closed and she had a satisfied smile on her face. “I am glad you thought so, chérie. However, if you’re still capable of complete sentences, then that means I’m not quite done yet.” And he started the entire process all over again.

“We’re friends.” “No, absolutely not,” Mamie snapped. “You cannot be friends with Mulligan.” Florence held a palm up to silence Mamie. “Justine, I met Mulligan and spent some time with him in his club. He’s charming and intelligent, I know. He’s a gorgeous bundle of charisma dressed like an English duke. I understand an attraction to him. But this won’t lead anywhere beneficial for you. He’ll ruin you.” “The way Clay ruined you?” Then she pointed at Mamie. “Or the way Frank ruined you?” “You cannot . . .” Mamie exchanged a glance with Florence before coming back to Justine. “You cannot be thinking of marrying him.” “No one is discussing marriage!” Justine crossed the room and dropped onto the bench at her dressing table. “I meant physical activities. Taking my virginity.” “Has he?” Florence asked on a gasp. “No—not that I’d tell either of you if he had.” Any tiredness she felt evaporated like smoke. She pushed off the bench and began pacing the room. “You both have quite a lot of nerve lecturing me. Neither of you saved yourself for marriage. Neither of you followed the rules or conventions of high society. You did whatever you pleased, and neither one of you checked with me first to see what I thought!” “Justine, you are the youngest,” Mamie said, using her big-sister tone. “It is our job to look out for you. To help you.” “Even when I don’t require it?” Florence gave a dry laugh. “You think you can handle Mulligan? Don’t you think you are a little out of your depth, Just...

“Chérie, this is a dangerous spot after dark. I don’t like the idea of you waiting here by yourself.” “I wasn’t by myself. I stayed in a carriage across the street until I saw you arrive.” He sighed. She wasn’t getting it. “You need to let Rye take you home. Or to my home. Anywhere but here.” “Jack,” she said in a low, soft voice, one that spoke of intimacy and affection, and the sound was like a caress to his balls. “I’ve had enough of lectures this week. I’m perfectly safe with you. So let’s go take care of Mr. von Briesen. Then perhaps we might find some privacy and take care of other, more delicate things.” Christ almighty. His mouth went dry. He didn’t even care if she was managing him. Find some privacy. Fuck, he liked the sound of that. Blood began pulsing in his groin and he would’ve done just about anything she asked at that point. Stepping closer, he bent and put his lips near her ear. “We’ll finish this as quickly as I can manage. Then you’d best be wet and ready to take care of those delicate things because they are aching for you.” He heard her tiny gasp and smiled. He so enjoyed corrupting his little do-gooder. Sweeping out his arm, he said, “Stay close. I’ll kill any man who even looks at you funny.” “No, you won’t. Besides, no one will hurt me when I am at your side.” True, but this crowd was unpredictable. “Do not drink anything while we’re inside. And do not turn your back or wander off.” “I won’t. I promise.” She bit her lip, her eyes gleaming with what ...

Surprised and intrigued by her power over him, she sidled closer, crowding him this time. She slipped her hand onto his thigh and moved it higher, slowly, until she reached the bulge in his trousers. Jack froze, his gaze locked on her fingers, as she tentatively touched him through his clothing. “Mon ange,” he wheezed. “You are killing me.” “Not quite, if you are still able to manage complete sentences.” “Throwing my words back at me, I see. Very well, if you want to play, I am more than happy to oblige you.” He turned to glance through the window. “We have several blocks still.”

“Mr. Keller, my sister is not suggesting that she replace a man on the department staff. She is asking to be added, to be allowed to join them, not displace them.” “Mrs. Tripp, all due respect to you and your husband, but these are not the kind of men who wish to work side by side with a woman. Their jobs are often dangerous. How are we to ensure everyone’s safety if they’re worried about a hysterical woman in their midst?” “Perhaps Justine is capable of looking after herself. I have seen her in many situations, in all sorts of neighborhoods, and never once has she been close to hysterical.” “Serving soup and handing out pamphlets hardly qualifies as the kinds of work she’d be involved in as a police officer.” Mamie’s eyes narrowed at his condescending tone. “Yes, taking bribes and looking the other way from crime requires a special skill.”

“You are wrong, Mr. Keller. Women and children are suffering in this city, being left behind because no one watches out for them. Someday—and I hope it is soon—we will get the vote and men will then be answerable to us.” “No offense, but I hope Hades freezes over first.”

“I wish to become the first female detective on the New York City police force.” “No, you don’t.” He started to rise. “Now, we can take the tunnel to my house or—” She put a hand on his arm, stopping him. “Yes, I do.” He returned to his seat and took a sip of beer, thinking on how best to put this. “I realize how this sounds coming from me, but they are criminals—and bad ones at that. You do not want to join their morally corrupt ranks.” “Not all of them are criminals. And even if that were the case, I would not be a criminal. I could do a lot of good for the women and children of this city.” “You are doing a lot of good for the women and children of this city. In fact, you hardly ever stop doing good.” “Don’t you see? If I had a badge and real authority, then I wouldn’t need—” Her jaw slammed shut and he finally understood. Disappointment burned in his chest, a hot poker of realization. He forced himself to say it. “You wouldn’t need me.” “That’s not what I meant. I wouldn’t need anyone. Not Detective Ellison or my father. Not even my brother-in-law. I could make real change in this city.”

“I will speak with a man named Mr. Keller. He handles these things.” “I just came from meeting him.” He tried not to appear as surprised as he felt. “You met with Keller?” Her throat worked as she swallowed. “He told me no. That I’d be taking a job away from a man who needed to support his family. He was . . .” “He was, what?” Fury tightened the angles of her face, her mouth hard and angry. “Condescending and awful. And so very smug.” Keller was most definitely all those things. She added, “He said to pass on his regards to you.” Interesting. That meant his association with Justine hadn’t gone unnoticed by the Tammany boys. Though why they cared Jack couldn’t say. One thing he did know was that Keller would answer for upsetting this glorious creature. His do-gooder. “Is this what you really want?” “Yes.” “Then consider it done.” Her mouth worked but no sound emerged. Finally, she said, “J-just like that? Don’t you need to speak to Keller first?” “Do you honestly think he’ll refuse me?” “No.” Her lips twisted as she gave him a playful smirk. “Is this where you tell me I should have come to you first?” Reaching over, he helped her out of the chair. Though they were close, he didn’t move away. Instead, he ran the pad of his thumb over the smooth skin of her throat. “I won’t deny that I like when you need my help, but I hate dwelling in the past. You did what you thought was right in the moment.”

“Jack, get undressed. Please. I want . . . Let me feel you inside me.” Unblinking hypnotic eyes focused on her. “Are you certain? There are many other ways to pleasure one another. We don’t have to—” “I want to. Desperately. Unless you don’t want to?” She hadn’t considered that possibility, but of course he might not want to. “Is there someone else?” “Justine, no. Definitely not that—and I absolutely want to fuck you. I just need you to be certain.”

“I don’t believe I’ve ever come that hard in my life.” She bit her lip, the compliment settling inside her chest like a heavy blanket. “When may we do it again?”

“Jack and I are friends,” she said, not giving a direct answer. “Furthermore, it’s none of anyone’s business.” “It is my business.” Frank motioned to the room. “Literally, this is my business. And if you are involving Jack Mulligan in it, then I damn well should have a say about it.” “I am not involving him in legal aid business.” “Then what was that?” He pointed to the door Mrs. Gorcey had just gone through. “Because that felt like involving him. You are planning to go see him, aren’t you? To find out why Gorcey hasn’t been paying.” “Yes. I owe her answers and Jack can get them for me.” “Do you hear yourself?” Frank put his hands on his hips. “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.” “That’s absurd.” “I have to agree with Frank,” Mamie said. “Mulligan trades in favors and bribes. The more help you ask him for, the more he’ll demand from you in return.” But I’ve already given him everything.

“You and Miss Justine Greene,” he drawled and handed out glasses of bourbon. “I wouldn’t think luring uptown debutantes to their ruin was your raison d’être, but here we are.” Jack set the glass aside. “Making money is my raison d’être, a quality we both share. And, I hardly see how this involves you. Isn’t there a gloomy hallway missing your glower right about now?” “Stop sniping at each other,” Frank said. “Mulligan, my wife is concerned about your association with her sister.” “Miss Greene is a grown woman and makes her own choices. I am not forcing her to do anything against her will.” “That’s a load of shit,” Clayton put in as he leaned against the wall, drink in hand. “You’re seducing her into trusting you.” “You make me sound positively Machiavellian.” “Because it’s not far from the truth,” Frank said. “I am begging you to leave her alone. This can only end badly and I won’t be able to help you. Her father will come after you.” “Please.” That was beyond insulting. Jack shook his head. “Considering all I’ve faced in my thirty-two years, do you honestly believe I am scared of Duncan Greene?” Frank’s mouth flattened and Jack imagined the lawyer was fighting the urge to talk this problem to death. “I want you to stop involving yourself in my clients’ cases.” “I’m hardly involved. Your sister-in-law asks for my assistance from time to time and I see no reason to refuse her.” “I am asking you to refuse. I do not want you mixed up in my business.” “Except for my donations....

“Tripp, it is my appreciation of what you did for my brother all those years ago that prevents me from throwing you out on your arse at the moment. However, make no mistake, I do not take advice from anyone other than myself. If Duncan Greene—or anyone else—doesn’t like that, you may tell him I said to not-so-very-politely fuck off.”

“Any luck in locating Gorcey?” “No. Hasn’t been around in over a week, apparently.” Jack sighed, his leg bouncing with irritation. “Fucking find him. Search the city. In the meantime, send the missing payments to his wife with my apologies.” “I’ll handle it. By the way, Rye wants to know if you’re going to the fights tonight or if you’re headed over to Bond Street this afternoon.” “Bond Street.” Cooper’s mouth twitched like this answer amused him. Jack snapped, “Something to say before you fetch Mrs. Jenkins for me?” “I think it’s sweet, is all. Rye and I both like her.” Before Jack could reply, Cooper slipped out the door and into the hall, leaving Jack alone with his thoughts. Yes, I like her, too. More than he’d ever believed possible . . . and he wasn’t quite certain what to do about that.

She went through the heavy double wooden doors and hurried toward the kitchens. Mrs. Grant found her right away. “Thank goodness,” the older woman explained as she hugged Justine. “We’ve had four workers laid out with illness this week. I’m at my wit’s end.” “Tell me what to do.” That was the last conversation Justine remembered. From that point on, she was too busy to think straight. She and the workers struggled to prepare and cook the meal, ready the utensils and plates and put chairs and tables out for the guests. It was almost a relief when the doors opened because then she could merely focus on putting food onto plates. With fewer staff on hand, it took longer to fill each plate. Justine did her best, moving as quickly as she was able. Sweat rolled down her back but she kept going. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw someone step in on her right. “Move over.” Her head snapped up at the familiar voice, certain she’d misheard. Certain she’d missed him enough to conjure his voice at every turn. No, he was here. Jack was here. At the mission. He wore his usual fancy suit, his hair slicked to perfection. His eyes dancing and lips twisted with satisfaction, he was clearly enjoying her surprise. She blurted, “What are you doing?” “Helping, if you’ll let me.” He flicked his fingers to indicate that she should slide over. “Hand me that ladle.” She gave him the soup ladle and moved to the potatoes. “I do not understand.” “There’s nothing to understand. I wanted to see you an...