The Devil of Downtown Read online

  And one little do-gooder had just laughed in his face.

  It was unthinkable. Untenable. Un-fucking-believable.

  She had brass ones, that was for certain. He’d beaten men for less than the insult Justine Greene had handed him. Today, in fact.

  Ah, but her face . . .

  He’d thought her plain at first. Her sister, Florence, was an absolute stunner. The kind of woman every man lusted after, with big tits and a small waist. Smooth skin and blond hair, not to mention a gorgeous smile. Compared to that, Justine was less. No bosom to speak of, brown hair pulled back in a severe style, and eyes that neither danced nor twinkled. No one would look twice at her with Florence in the room.

  Until Justine began talking. Then she came alive, some fire or inner determination burning bright inside her. Sitting in his office, she’d fairly glowed.

  Now, she swept down the stairs, regal as a queen, dismissing him. Christ, that yellow dress was hideous. With her skin tone she needed deeper, warm colors. Her dressmaker should be fired, immediately.

  “Miss Greene,” he heard himself call, not even certain what he’d say.

  She paused on the last step and glanced over her shoulder. “Yes?”

  He waited for her to walk back up but she merely stood there. Solid brass, he thought and descended until he was directly above her. “What’s in it for me if I help you?”

  “Knowing you did the right thing, I suppose.”

  “You can’t tell me everyone you’ve approached has cooperated.”

  “No, but I never said I needed your cooperation. It would make things easier, yes. But I don’t need it. I’m perfectly capable of finding Gorcey on my own.”

  “And yet, if he’s in my employ—which I’m neither confirming nor denying—he is untouchable.”

  “That’s ridiculous. No one is untouchable.”

  “I am.”

  It wasn’t a boast. Jack had spent the majority of his adult life ensuring he was beyond the reach of the police department. Beyond the reach of city hall, with their corrupt Tammany machine. Above the rest of the criminal class, who worried about being pinched.

  Not Jack. Not any longer.

  He’d amassed enough money and power that he didn’t need to look over his shoulder anymore. The police may not like it, but he had enough of the dirty officers on his payroll that the department couldn’t do shit to Jack’s organization without his approval. No one held more sway in this part of town than he did—not the mayor, the police commissioners or the head of Tammany Hall.

  This hadn’t come easy. He’d toiled, fought, plotted and schemed for his position atop downtown’s criminal class. Had been knifed and shot. Endured countless brawls and fights. Suffered broken bones and dislocated joints. His face might not tell the story, but below the neck was a different tale. His body was riddled with the scars and marks of his violent past.

  Yet he’d emerged the victor—and he would never fucking apologize for it.

  Miss Justine Greene didn’t appear impressed with him, however. He didn’t quite understand it. Women had never posed a problem for Jack. Even when he was poor his face had ensured he was never lonely. Now that he was rich, women were even easier to come by. Singles, pairs, even groups . . . Getting a fuck was like cleaning his teeth.

  Yet this one had laughed at him.

  He didn’t hate her for the slight, though, which surprised him. No, he admired her for it.

  “You’ve never come up against someone like me,” she said. “I’ll get to Gorcey whether you help me or not.”

  He almost believed her. Of course, he had ways of hiding people that she’d never dreamed of, with her proper uptown upbringing.

  Truthfully, Jack didn’t like Gorcey. And if the accusation was true? Jack liked him even less. But Jack didn’t care for anyone messing with his men or his organization. He preferred to stay in control.

  “Well?”

  Justine’s impatience broke through his thoughts. “I want to see her.”

  Brown brows dipped in apparent confusion. “See who?”

  “Mrs. Gorcey.”

  “Absolutely not.”

  He pursed his lips. “Then we are at an impasse.”

  “Hardly.”

  “I can make things very difficult for you, do-gooder.”

  “By kidnapping me?”

  He didn’t care for the twitching of her lips as she uttered this, as if the notion were ridiculous. He hadn’t kidnapped a woman before . . . but this one sorely tempted him, if only to prove that he could.

  Just how much would Duncan Greene pay in ransom to get his youngest daughter back? Now, there was a business opportunity to be considered.

  Not a villain, indeed. He nearly snorted. This girl had no idea.

  Suppressing the urge to twirl an imaginary mustache, he said, “If I meet Mrs. Gorcey and hear her side, then I might be willing to force Robert to do right by her.”

  Instead of appearing appeased, she frowned. “Hear her side? There are no sides to this story. The idea that she has to convince you of her hardships so that her husband will live up to his promises is insulting.”

  Merde, this woman. Was she always so difficult? “Take it or leave it, Miss Greene. You may have your man before the sun sets, or you may flounder for weeks wondering where he’s gone.”

  “Fine. I’ll take you to see her.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  Streaks of gold sparked in the brown depths of her eyes, tiny bolts of lightning that portended her anger. “I haven’t time for games, not when—”

  “No game. We shall see her here.”

  Justine folded her arms. “Mr. Mulligan, she has five children to tend. Do you honestly believe she is able to leave them and come traipsing over, merely because you don’t wish to be bothered?”

  He hadn’t thought of that, but he wouldn’t budge on the issue. His help, his rules. Always. “The children aren’t my problem. You want Gorcey, then the meeting must be here.”

  “I’ll ask her. That’s the best I can do. Perhaps one of her neighbors can watch the children.”

  He shook his head. “You misunderstand. You aren’t leaving. I’ll have one of the boys fetch Mrs. Gorcey.”

  “They will terrify her! You cannot do that. At least let me go along.”

  She stood nearly nose to nose with him, her voice stern like an irate schoolteacher. Or what he assumed a teacher’s voice sounded like, seeing as how he never went to school. Something about that tone and the color on her cheeks got to him. This woman did not give up or back down for any reason. He could feel his body responding despite his better judgment.

  God knew she was hardly his usual type. He liked them bold and buxom. Experienced. Not some uptown princess who’d faint in shock if he playfully slapped her arse while screwing her from behind.

  “I should leave.” She started down the remaining stairs. “This was a mistake.”

  He darted ahead to block her retreat. He moved two steps below her, putting them almost at the same height. “Giving up already?”

  “Adjusting my strategy. I had thought, given your reputation for softness toward the female race, that you’d offer your assistance. I have clearly misjudged you.”

  “No, but you have misunderstood the way things work around here. I am both the judge and the jury, Miss Greene. If there is a problem with one of my men, then I hear the facts and render a decision. Me and only me. Do you understand?”

  She seemed to absorb this, her irritable expression easing ever so slightly. “That implies you are capable of remaining impartial.”

  “I am nothing if not fair.”

  “Do you know where Gorcey is at this moment?”

  “I have a good idea.”

  She sighed and stared at the wall. There wasn’t much to contemplate, as he had the upper hand, but he appreciated her thoroughness. This was a woman who avoided rash behavior, who was careful. He was much the same way.

  “If you won’t let me fetch her
, then I’d like to send along a note to reassure her.”

  A smile overtook Jack’s face, stretching the sides of his mouth. “Of course. Come along.”

  Jack Mulligan was full of surprises.

  During the hour they waited on Mrs. Gorcey, Justine sat across from him in his office, sipping sherry, while Mulligan made polite conversation. He could speak to any topic, from art and culture to politics and classics. He was well-read, intelligent and charming. She could almost forget they were in a boxing club/saloon/criminal headquarters near the Bowery.

  All this was a stark contradiction to Mulligan’s dangerous reputation, one he’d earned by consolidating the criminal gangs downtown into one massive empire years back. How he’d done it was the stuff of legend, stories shared in saloons late at night across the city. Justine didn’t know the details but she could assume that cunning, bravery and bloodshed had each played a part.

  She let him do most of the talking. This was nothing unusual. Her two older sisters were gregarious and outspoken. Justine, on the other hand, preferred to listen and observe. Not that she was a wallflower, but her energies were best spent helping others. Gossip and fashion bored her to tears. Parties and social calls were a waste of time. How could any of those things matter when most of the city’s residents struggled to provide for themselves and their families?

  “Am I boring you?”

  She glanced up at Mulligan’s question. “Of course not.” What had he been talking about? Right, the art he’d seen on a recent trip to Paris. “I haven’t been to Paris since I was a girl.”

  He cocked a brow, his handsome face turning curious. “I thought all good heiresses went to Paris each year for their wardrobes.”

  “I’m not that sort of heiress.”

  “What kind of heiress are you, then?”

  “The rebellious kind, I suppose.”

  “I am noticing that. Here I’ve been trying to impress you and clearly missing the mark.”

  “Why would you be trying to impress me?”

  “Because I am vain. Not only am I a man in the presence of a beautiful woman, that woman happens to come from one of the best families in the city.”

  Beautiful? She nearly snorted. He’d clearly mistaken her for one of her sisters. “You don’t need to impress me. As soon as Mr. Gorcey agrees to take care of his wife, I’ll be out of your way.”

  He drank from his glass of beer. A lager, he’d said, one produced by Mamie’s brother-in-law. “Tell me, what does your father think of your charitable endeavors?”

  She shifted on the plush seat of the armchair. “Have you met my father?”

  “I haven’t had the pleasure but I know him by reputation.”

  “Then you’ll understand why I don’t always inform him of my every move.”

  “But surely he is aware of your trips downtown.”

  “Of course.” She didn’t mention that her father believed she spent her time strictly at the legal aid society with her sister.

  He seemed to sense her deception. “Ah, I see.” He chuckled, the lines around his eyes deepening. He must laugh often, she realized, to have those lines. The amusement caused him to appear younger and even more appealing, and warmth slid through her, her stomach doing funny things.

  Never mind the boxing downstairs. Mulligan’s looks and charm were a dangerous one-two combination to a woman’s peace of mind.

  She hated that he affected her at all. No one, not even her sisters, knew there had been a man in Justine’s life for part of last year. A few years older than her, Billy Ferris had been a plumber’s apprentice. They met when Justine hired Billy’s employer to fix some leaky pipes in a tenement on Mott Street. Billy was sweet and kind, the type of man who never argued or became angry. They’d grown apart after a few months, however, their relationship barely intimate, and she hadn’t been brokenhearted when Billy called it quits.

  She never considered marrying him. As she’d learned, married women had fewer rights than unmarried women, ceding everything to their husbands. The wrong choice was disastrous, no matter the name and pedigree of one’s father.

  Justine had seen enough results from unfortunate choices to last a lifetime.

  Still, she had cared for Billy. If she were to marry, she’d prefer someone boring and predictable, like him. She didn’t care for fireworks and passion. She’d rather have comfort and reliability.

  So, why was she noticing Mulligan’s looks and feeling things?

  “Tell me of the legal aid society,” Mulligan said, breaking into her thoughts. “Busy, I suppose?”

  “Busier than we could have dreamed. It has been exhausting but rewarding.”

  “I’m not surprised. I have met your brother-in-law and he is a force of nature.”

  “You know Frank?” That surprised her.

  “Of course. It was inevitable we would cross paths now and again. He has the best legal mind in the state.”

  “And you oversee the biggest criminal empire in the state.”

  If she’d expected him to prevaricate or deny it, he surprised her by doing neither. “Indeed, I do. Does that bother you?”

  “Why would it?”

  “I couldn’t say, do-gooder. But I get the sense I am making you uncomfortable.”

  “I am not uncomfortable. It’s merely that you’re not what I expected.” In the least.

  He opened his mouth but a knock interrupted whatever he’d been about to say. At Mulligan’s command, the door opened to reveal a young man followed by Mrs. Gorcey. Wide-eyed and pale, Mrs. Gorcey rushed toward Justine. “Miss Greene, have you really found Robert?”

  “I believe so. Mr. Mulligan has agreed to help us.”

  “Mrs. Gorcey.” Mulligan approached and dipped his chin. “Welcome. I do hope we may arrive at a satisfactory conclusion for you today.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Mulligan. I apologize for bothering you with my problems.” Mrs. Gorcey could hardly meet Mulligan’s eyes, her voice trembling.

  “No need for apologies. I am always happy to help downtown residents whenever possible.”

  Justine nearly snorted. Hadn’t he just asked her what providing help would gain him? She had a feeling that Jack Mulligan was not acting out of the kindness of his heart, yet he’d made no demands. Perhaps her speeches prompting him to do the right thing had affected him.

  The door opened once more and two men entered. Mrs. Gorcey stiffened, giving a short intake of breath, and Justine deduced that one of these men must be Mr. Gorcey.

  Sure enough, one man locked eyes with Mrs. Gorcey and stopped in his tracks. His gaze then darted around the room, possibly searching for an escape. As if sensing this, the other man put a hand on Gorcey’s shoulder and pushed him farther into the room. Still, Gorcey avoided his wife’s eyes, not acknowledging her in any manner.

  “Robert.” Mulligan pointed to a chair. “Have a seat. Mrs. Gorcey?” He held out an arm as if to escort the older woman to a society event, and Justine rolled her eyes at the ceiling.

  When everyone was seated, Mulligan crossed his legs and smoothed his perfectly creased trousers. “Robert, we seem to have an issue with your family.”

  “I don’t have any family,” was Gorcey’s answer.

  “No doubt you’re wishin’ that were the case,” Mrs. Gorcey snapped. Justine put a hand on the other woman’s arm in comfort and warning. They must remain calm.

  “Well, this woman here claims to be your wife,” Mulligan said. “She said you have abandoned her and your five children. Have you anything to say about that?”

  “She’s a liar.”

  “How dare you—”

  Justine squeezed Mrs. Gorcey’s arm. This wasn’t the first time a husband had lied when presented with evidence of his misdeeds. She turned to Mr. Gorcey. “You are saying you’ve never seen her before?”

  He shot Justine a look full of venom—one so fierce she nearly flinched. “That’s what I’m saying.”

  “So, if she were to reveal something about yo
ur person, like a birthmark or a scar, we wouldn’t be able to verify that?”

  He gave no response, just clenched his jaw and stared at the wall.

  “Mrs. Gorcey?” Mulligan asked. “Is there such an identifying mark?”

  She nodded and pointed to her right wrist. “He has a scar here from a fight in a saloon. He also has a mole on the left side of his chest.”

  Mulligan arched a brow. “Gorcey, I’ll strip you down if I must to get to the truth. So, is what she says a fact? Before you answer, remember that I don’t care for liars nor do I care for having my time wasted. Do you know this woman or not?”

  “Aye.” The word was bitten out, filled with resentment.

  “She is your wife?”

  “Not any longer. I told her I wanted to leave and she told me to go.”

  “That’s not true!” Mrs. Gorcey said.

  “It is, too.” Gorcey’s lip curled as he focused on his wife. “You have no claim on me, woman.”

  Justine quickly intervened. “Did you marry her, Mr. Gorcey?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “Are you the father of her children?”

  “I don’t know,” he mumbled. “They coulda been fathered by anyone.”

  “You son of a—” Mrs. Gorcey started before Justine squeezed her arm again.

  “Miss Greene, Mrs. Gorcey,” Mulligan said as he rose. “I’d like a moment alone with Robert. Excuse us, won’t you?”

  Without waiting for Robert’s cooperation, Mulligan strode to an adjoining door and walked out. There hadn’t been a stated threat of any kind but Gorcey’s throat worked, his face going alarmingly pale. Without delay, he quickly stood and followed Mulligan from the room.

  “Can you believe the nerve?” Mrs. Gorcey hissed when they were alone. “Saying our children were fathered by another man. How dare he?”

  “I wish I could say I am surprised. I’ve heard just about every excuse from these wife deserters.” One man had continued lying even when presented with his eldest son, who was the spitting image of his father. That merely illustrated how easy it was for men to shirk their paternal responsibilities.