the picture of obedience. Jack knew better. She was about as obedient as a wild fox.
Inside was a crush of lowlifes and degenerates. The saloon reeked of tobacco, piss and sweat. Jesus, had none of these men ever had a bath? Justine remained close, and the three men formed a protective triangle around her as they moved through the crowd.
The poolroom was still busy, though the racetracks had closed for the day. Now patrons were racing rats on the pool tables, with logs set up like rails. Men were throwing money around, eager to bet on anything, even vermin.
Jack kept going, directing their group to the brothel’s main door. Soon they were all climbing the stairs, and Jack took his first full deep breath since finding Justine on the front walk.
Polly appeared at the landing. Her expression was less than welcoming. “I was hoping you’d forgotten.”
Jack slipped her a wad of cash, which disappeared into the madam’s bodice. “We won’t be long. Just show us which room.”
“Third door on the left.” She pointed down the hall. “He’s been here about fifteen minutes.”
Excellent. That meant things should be well underway. Sliding a glance at Justine, he told her, “Wait in the salon.”
Her brows knitted. “Why?”
The truth, that he wished to speak to von Briesen alone, would only cause her to dig in her heels. Instead, he went with a partial truth. “Because he’ll likely be undressed. And busy. Let us get him decent, and then you may come in and talk to him.”
Justine started to speak until Rye put in, “He’s right, miss. You don’t need to be seein’ his dangly bits. Let us get him sorted and then we’ll call you in.”
“Fine.” She didn’t appear happy about it, but at least she refrained from arguing.
“Remember what I said,” Jack warned. He didn’t trust Polly any more than the men downstairs.
“Just hurry.”
With Rye and Cooper behind him, Jack went to the room where von Briesen was currently “relaxing.” He didn’t bother to knock. Throwing open the door, the three of them stepped inside. Von Briesen was on the bed in just an undergarment, a woman’s head bobbing between his legs. His eyes widened at the intrusion and the woman quickly pulled off, leaving von Briesen to cover himself. “What are you doing here?” His voice had a thick German accent. “This is a private room.”
Rye shut them in and Jack handed the woman a stack of cash. “Give us a few minutes, will you?” After she left, he thrust his hands in his pockets. “Are you Mr. von Briesen?”
The man’s head swiveled between Rye, Cooper and Jack. “Y-yes. Why?”
“You recently left your wife.”
Von Briesen swallowed. “I don’t see why that is any concern of yours.”
Jack approached and sat on the side of the bed, his posture relaxed. He took a moment to smooth out his trousers. “My name is Mulligan. I have a little club not far from here called the New Belfast Athletic Club. Perhaps you’ve heard of me?”
The other man said nothing but his face paled. His hands began trembling on the bedclothes.
“I see you have. Good, that saves us time. We’re going to have a quick little chat, the four of us, about your family. Then I’m going to call in a friend of mine and you’re going to tell her how you plan to return to that family.”
“But . . .” He glanced at the two other men before returning his gaze to Jack. “I do not plan on returning.”
“You will. Trust me.”
“No, my wife, she’s always after me about money and helping with the children. I do not want to go back.”
“Well, we’ll have to see what we can do to convince you.”
Chapter Sixteen
“So, he didn’t argue at all?”
They were now in the carriage, and Justine was having a hard time wrapping her head around how easy the night had been. Von Briesen had eagerly agreed to return to his wife, his eyes even tearing up with remorse. Jack, Cooper and Rye had promised to check up on von Briesen’s wife to ensure the man kept his promise. After that, they’d all departed the World Poolroom.
It had been so effortless.
Almost too effortless.
Cooper had taken another way home so Justine and Jack were alone, with Rye in the driver’s seat. Jack leaned close and traced the shell of her ear with his finger. “He might have argued a little.”
“So you intimidated him.” Then she remembered the shirtwaist factory owner. “You didn’t . . . beat him, did