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,