Stealing Jake - By Pam Hillman Page 0,31

you get that through your thick head, the better off you’ll be.”

Gibbons turned the key with jerky motions, and one of his men slid the heavy door open, revealing two large crates. Other than that, the container stood empty.

“Satisfied?”

Jake searched the shadows of the car and found nothing, other than the crates. He stepped back and tipped his hat. “Just doing my job.”

He strode to his horse as the whistle blew. Mounted, he reined away, but not before he caught Gibbons’s hard-eyed gaze following his every move. Jake headed toward the jail. He’d just made an enemy out of one of the richest men in town, someone Chestnut’s founding fathers had wooed to help grow the city. With a few well-placed comments, Gibbons could have Jake’s tin star pinned to the nearest Christmas tree before he could say, “Merry Christmas.”

* * *

Victor glared at Jimmy Sharp and threw a set of keys on the desk, the clatter a pale imitation of the clamoring anger in his gut. “So my brother sent you in his place, huh?”

“He’s busy.” Sharp stared him down, his ice-blue gaze cutting in its intensity.

Scowling, Victor turned away and poured a shot of whiskey. Busy. Like he’d been for the past ten years. Their father had passed the reins on to his older brother and left Victor with nothing except the crumbs from his brother’s table.

Part of that inheritance should have been his. But his brother didn’t think he was capable of taking over any of the family businesses and always gave the jobs to people like Sharp. And their father agreed with him.

Sharp opened the door between the office and the factory floor, revealing a room crowded with sewing machines and small workers scurrying about. Doing their master’s bidding. Shouldn’t that count for something? Victor operated a tight ship, and the local law didn’t suspect a thing. His jaw tightened. At least they hadn’t until those boys had stirred up trouble.

“Nice little operation you’ve got going here.” Sharp’s scar stood out in stark relief.

Victor downed the shot of whiskey. Little?

Just like his father’s lawyer to dub his endeavor little.

“Your brother thinks you’re running a big risk setting up shop in a small town like this.”

“And my father?”

Sharp shrugged. “I’m sure he agrees.”

No matter what he did, he could never please any of them.

Unlike the rest of his family, Victor had moved out of the big city, out from under the watchful eye of the Chicago police. Here there were no cops to buy off. No bribes to pay. The Chestnut sheriff didn’t even know the meaning of the word, and his deputy couldn’t find his way out of a mine lit by a hundred lanterns with exit signs posted every three feet.

Doing business in Chestnut had turned out to be easier than expected. With the exception of the street kids honing in on his territory. But Butch and Grady would take care of them in short order.

Opening the locked drawer on his desk, he hefted a leather pouch filled with money. “Go back to Chicago and tell my brother that I’ll be running this town in a few months. Wait and see.”

Long after Sharp left, he sat at his desk, staring at nothing.

What would it take to prove himself worthy in his family’s eyes?

* * *

Livy slipped into the schoolhouse, hoping not to draw attention to herself. A meeting had been called to talk about the rash of robberies in the last week. It looked like half the town had turned out.

Jake spotted her, worry lines creasing his brow. He moved toward her. “What are you doing here? Things could get pretty nasty.”

“I’m here to see after the welfare of the children.”

Jake shook his head. “Livy, they’re thieves and robbers.”

“They’re innocent until proven guilty.” She crossed her arms, holding in the words that might exonerate the boys. The thief was too big, too well fed, and too well dressed to be one of the street kids.

Why didn’t she have the courage to tell Jake she’d been there that night?

Because she was a coward, plain and simple.

“All right, but if these men start a ruckus, promise me you’ll leave. A town meeting with a bunch of riled-up men is no place for a lady.”

“I promise.” She didn’t have any desire to be involved in a shouting match or a brawl, but she wanted to know if the town decided to do anything drastic about the homeless children. They weren’t responsible for the robberies, but none of the

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