had hovered by his bedside, tending to him like the angel he often called her. She didn’t want to admit it, but she was tired. Jack wasn’t a very good patient.
Staying abed was pure misery. There was too much to do, including finding out the identity of the shooter. He had his suspicions, of course. Instinct told him it was Trevor O’Shaughnessy, and Jack had to find a way to confirm it. Quickly.
He also needed to follow up with Julius Hatcher. Rye confirmed Hatcher had walked away from the brewery unscathed, thankfully. And the sooner their plans were put into place, the better.
Cooper was covering for Jack at the club, making it seem as if Jack were on the premises but too busy to see anyone. This would only work for so long. The men would grow restless and suspicious the longer Jack was absent.
So, he forced himself to walk a bit in the house today, even if Rye had to hold him up.
“Steady,” Rye said as they turned the corner. “I wouldn’t like to explain to Miss Greene how those stitches came undone.”
Rye and Justine got along like old friends. Though Jack grumbled loudly in their presence about them ganging up on him, he secretly liked that two of the most important people in his life were fond of one another. “She’ll be angry with me, not you. This was my idea, remember?”
“She’ll be angry with the both of us, I daresay. She is scared you’ll develop an infection.”
This was nothing new. Justine had been harping on the notion ever since his eyes opened after the injury. “I won’t. I’ll be fine.”
“She loves you, you know.”
Jack frowned, using his arm to steady himself on the door frame. “You’re insane.”
“You didn’t see her face when she learned you’d been plugged.”
A large lump settled in his throat. He didn’t like the thought of causing her pain or worry. With all she took on at the legal aid society and her various charity efforts, she had enough weighing on her that he couldn’t add to it. It was one of the reasons he’d never attached himself to any one woman before. His life was dangerous, complicated. No one deserved to have all that thrust upon them.
And yet . . .
Hope seeped into his chest like water through cracks in a wall. Did she care for him? Love seemed a bit far-fetched, but he’d settle for strong affection. After all, she was young and of a completely different class. She was everything he wasn’t—and he was a selfish bastard for not giving her up.
But he wouldn’t, not when he’d just found her. Not when she brought joy and life to a dark and desolate world, her touch both calming and necessary to his well-being. Not when he wasn’t certain how he’d manage to survive without her.
Indeed, a selfish bastard.
Rye chuckled. “You should have seen her standing up to Dr. Moore. Wanting to make sure he’d cleaned and sterilized everything.”
With Moore’s raging cocaine addiction, one could never be too certain. “Good. But I wish you hadn’t bothered her. Two days was too long for her to stay here. Her family must be worried.”
“No, she told them she was tending to a sick friend. Which I suppose you are, so it ain’t a lie.”
“Any word from Cooper on the shooter?”
“None. You still thinkin’ O’Shaughnessy?”
“Of course. It’s what I’d do in his position.”
Rye snorted. “You wouldn’t have shot through a window in broad daylight. You’d have come at him when he least expected it.”
“True, but then O’Shaughnessy doesn’t have my flair.”
“What are you doing?”
The high-pitched shout startled Jack and he nearly tripped. He slumped against the wall for support. “Jesus, Justine.” She must’ve come in using the key Rye gave her—an item given without asking Jack’s permission first, he might add—and had snuck up on them. “How are you so quiet?”
She drew closer, her gaze sweeping his face, assessing. “I thought you might be asleep. How was I to know you were promenading along the corridor?”
“I’m stretching my legs.”
“You look about ready to pass out.” She pinned Rye with a hard stare. “He needs to be in bed.”
Rye raised his palms, all innocence. “I just follow orders, miss. He’s not one to listen to me, not like he does to you.”
“I knew I should have stayed.” She put her shoulder under Jack, taking some of his weight. “Back to bed with you.”
“You cannot stay here round the clock,” Jack said. “And Rye is perfectly capable of—”