of the radiator, and he almost let go of a hiss as it burned him through his sleeve, but he kept his mouth shut.
The door swung open, the lights came on, and a petite dark-eyed flapper sauntered in, the dangling beads on her short silver dress clattering with every step. The man who strolled in behind her was definitely the man whose sewn-up coat Danny had found in the wardrobe. He wasn’t tall, but he was stout and broad-shouldered in the way so many of the Italians were. He was dressed head-to-wingtip in tailored and pinstriped gray, and he had a scar on his cheek and a grin on his lips as he leered at the woman’s backside.
Gangster. Not a doubt in Danny’s mind. He’d seen enough men like this one haunting the cafés and speakeasies in Lower Manhattan to recognize them at a hundred paces. He’d also seen enough of the fear these men cultivated and the violence they could initiate if duly provoked to know this was a dangerous place for him and Bernard. Robbing a gangster was chancy enough. Lurking in his hotel suite? That was how a couple of Irishmen earned themselves a one-way drive out into the countryside. Danny’s brother Robert had been killed by men like this for much less.
Danny exchanged terrified glances with Bernard. They’d just come here to steal. Now they were in way over their heads, and damn if he knew how to get them out of it, especially with the muscle by the door—a pair of hulking men who looked like they were spoiling for a fight. From Bernard’s wide-eyed expression, he didn’t have any ideas either. He crossed himself. So did Danny.
The woman scanned the room, then turned to the man, and her expression hardened. “Them.” She pointed at the wise guys on their heels. “Out of here.”
The man with her grinned and gestured for his men to leave, but whatever he thought he was getting from the woman, she wasn’t having it.
“All right, Ricky.” She folded her arms across her chest and fearlessly held his gaze. “We need to talk.”
Ricky eyed her, seemingly startled by her change in demeanor. “Talk? About what?”
Dropping her hands to her sides, she released an exasperated sigh. “Did you listen to a word I said downstairs?” She gestured sharply at the door. “I need your boys to stop causing trouble at my bar.”
“Trouble?” He gave a patronizing chuckle. “They’re just hard-working boys having a good time. What’s to—”
“They’ve started three fights in the last two weeks.” She jabbed a finger at him. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you sent them in to stir things up.”
“Stir—” He blinked, then set his jaw. “Why would I do that? Huh? Why?”
“I don’t know, Ricky.” She folded her arms again and glared at him. “So my customers quit coming? So the cops show up and shut me down? I don’t know.” She shrugged tightly. “But I want them out of my bar.”
“Yeah?” Ricky stepped closer, raising his chin as if to emphasize their height difference. “Or what? You gonna have your brother tell his boys to—”
“If I needed my brother to fight my fights, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”
“Ahh.” He grinned and took another step, which sent her back, nearly into the wall. “So you can handle yourself, huh? Don’t need your big brother to—”
“The bar is my business,” she growled, though there was fear in her eyes now. “That’s why… That’s why I’m here. Not him. I handle my business, so just tell your boys to—”
“Or did your brother refuse to come because he knows a woman’s got no business handling—”
“It’s my bar,” she threw back, straightening as if she were trying to draw away from him without him realizing what she was doing. “And since your boys can’t behave, they can leave, and they can stay away.”
The man came closer, and even the fierce determination in her eyes couldn’t mask the fear. She was cornered now—backed against the wall with no way to get to the door except through this slimy gangster.
From where he hid behind the armchair, Danny watched in horror. Icy spiders crept up his back. His mind tried to drag him back to Cork. To that afternoon years ago when he’d been a young boy, and he’d been pulled away from playing by the screams of a woman. He’d seen. Fear had kept him still, had kept him silent, but he’d seen and heard it all, and he’d