shoes. I am in love with you. Words he did not deserve from a woman he deserved even less.
He cleared his throat. “You know as well as I do how dangerous an attachment is in our world.”
“Yet, you are able to leave that world behind. I did and I’ve never regretted it.”
“Not once?”
“Not. Once.” A small smile twisted Clayton’s lips. “You know the woman with whom I now share my life. I’d lay aside a hundred kingdoms for that privilege.”
“Does anyone really just walk away, without recourse?”
“They do. You remember Mallet Malone?” Jack nodded. Malone had been the leader of the Waterfront Rats, disappeared in ’78. “Moved to Vermont,” Clayton continued. “Ran a maple syrup farm until he died a year ago.”
Jesus. How hadn’t Jack known this? “I had assumed he ended up in the East River.”
“No, old Mallet lived a happy and healthy life. There are others, too. Including me.”
“You’ve never worried about someone coming after you, a former patron with a grudge?”
“I would be lying if I said it didn’t occasionally cross my mind, but I take precautions. It also helps that Florence is capable of handling herself.”
“But there’s a difference. O’Shaughnessy can’t allow me to keep breathing. It’s too dangerous.”
“He’ll let it go if you leave town.”
Leave the only city he’d ever known? The streets and buildings were in his blood.
And what of Justine? If he convinced her to forgive him, then he couldn’t ask her to leave her family, her work here in New York. No, moving was out of the question.
“I don’t want to leave and run a maple syrup farm.” He wanted to run a national brewery, but not anonymously and not under an assumed name. That dream, however, felt further away than ever.
“Then what are you going to do?”
“Get rid of O’Shaughnessy, I suppose.”
More blood on his hands. More violence in his head. He definitely couldn’t go back to her after that. He’d tainted her enough.
Please, Jack. Do not kill him. Do not be that man. You are better than that.
He had no choice. Couldn’t she understand? It was why he’d cut her loose. She was better off without him.
“Can’t imagine Justine would approve of that,” Clayton said.
“She asked me to promise I wouldn’t.”
“And did you?”
Jack’s brows pinched. “Why would I do that? There’s no other way to deal with O’Shaughnessy, Clayton.”
“Isn’t there? Stop thinking about this like Jack Mulligan. Think about it as an outsider would, someone who doesn’t know our rules and practices. That’s what I had to do when I lost everything.”
“How does that help me?”
“It might just solve your problem. It also might help you win the girl. Shall we switch you to coffee?”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Justine trudged up the third flight of stairs, each step more exhausting than the last. This is what happens when one stays abed, nursing a broken heart, she supposed. Muscles weakened and every day became a struggle. “Will you now please tell me why we had to come all the way to an apartment house on Broome Street?”
Florence glanced over her shoulder. Secret mirth danced in her eyes, which meant her sister was up to no good. “Not yet.”
“For the love of Pete,” Justine grumbled. “I am not in the mood for this.”
“I realized as much when you started complaining around Eighty-Eighth Street. Just trust me, please.”
Justine huffed and followed her sister to the landing. Once there, Florence threw open a side door like she owned the place. An empty room was revealed, two chairs the only occupants. “Who lives here?” Justine asked.
“No one. Come along.” Florence shut the door behind them and gestured to the chairs in front of the windows. “Let’s sit.”
“Why?”
“God, Justine. Stop asking questions and do what I say. We must hurry.”
Hurry? For what? She kept the questions to herself, however. Florence could be sharp when pressed and Justine felt raw enough these days.
A week ago she’d visited Jack in his bowling alley. Longer still since she’d faced down O’Shaughnessy on his behalf. In some ways it seemed like a lifetime ago. Yet to her heart, which somehow ached more each day, it felt like yesterday.
On each chair sat a white confectioner’s bag. “Oooh, a snack.” Florence snatched a bag and sat down. “Popcorn. Yum.”
Justine took the other bag and lowered herself down into the chair. Outside the windows she could see Broome Street Hall. A very unpleasant reminder. Jack’s men hadn’t believed him when he asked them to transfer their loyalty to Trevor O’Shaughnessy. Their disbelief and unhappiness had rumbled