“Why?”
“Because Seavey caught me and dragged me into a dark alley before I could get inside the Green Light. Mona never even knew I’d arrived.”
Jordan almost dropped her espresso. “So Seavey did follow you.”
“Oh, yes.”
The Price Paid
MICHAEL Seavey wrapped an arm around Hattie’s waist, lifting her away from the Green Light’s door and clapping his gloved hand across her mouth to muffle her screams. He dragged her into the darkness at the end of the alley, silently swearing when her teeth sunk through leather into the fleshy part of his palm.
Holding her pressed between his body and the rough brick wall of the courthouse, he whispered into her ear, “Cease your struggles, my dear, if you ever want to see Charlotte again.”
She went limp.
“Excellent.” He turned his head as the back door to the Green Light opened. “Ssshhh.” Mona’s butler leaned out and scanned the alley, listening. After a moment, the man shrugged and went back inside, closing the door.
Michael loosened his grip slightly. He turned her so that her back was to the wall, his hand still firmly pressed against her mouth. From the look in her eyes, she would have spit at him if he’d given her the chance.
He said quietly, “If you promise not to scream for help, I’ll remove my hand.”
She nodded her head fractionally, and he lessened the pressure of his glove, waiting to see whether she’d keep her end of the bargain. When no sound other than her harsh breathing was forthcoming, he took a step back but kept hold of her upper arms.
“Unhand me!” she spat in a harsh whisper.
“I’m afraid that’s not possible. Though I suspect you’ve already ruined an expensive pair of kid gloves,” he added wryly, “and I’ll probably have a sore hand for days.”
“How dare you follow me, attack me!” One cheek was already reddening where it had scraped against the brick wall, and her eyes shone with unshed tears.
He shook his head. “Your plan to rescue Charlotte was foolhardy and doomed to fail—my bodyguards can’t be bribed. However, I will take you to her now.”
Hattie’s breath hitched, her expression turning wary. “There is a condition—I must know it.”
“Yes, very astute of you. I need your promise that you will tell no one of the events leading to Charlotte’s rescue.” He noted her confusion, but he added to forestall any further questions, “On this I am unyielding, Hattie. I will not explain myself, nor will I tolerate any prevarication on your part. I won’t risk arrest on kidnapping charges.”
“But—”
He felt her jolt when he once again placed gloved fingers against her lips. “Do I have your promise? Yes or no.”
She hesitated, then nodded. However, once he removed his hand, she added, her voice cold, “But never my forgiveness.”
He sighed. “I don’t expect it, though trust me when I say you don’t know the entire story of what has transpired.” He dragged her farther down the alley to the corner of the courthouse, peering into the adjoining street. “Come,” he said, motioning with his head for his bodyguards to follow.
They walked the two blocks to his hotel in minutes, no one save his bodyguards bearing witness. The building comprised two parts—the original structure, still frequented by a well-heeled clientele, and a newer annex used to house sailors and provide access to the tunnels. The customers intermingled only in the saloon, located on the ground floor of the older hotel. Seavey bypassed the lobby, forcing Hattie to climb an outside set of stairs at the back of the annex.
Once inside, he pushed her ahead of him, up another half flight and down a dim hallway to the room to where he’d had his men transfer Charlotte. At their approach, a third bodyguard at the door nodded deferentially, moving aside.
Seavey opened the door and Hattie flew over to the bed where her sister lay. Though the girl’s clothes were soiled and her hair disheveled, he knew Hattie could see for herself that Charlotte was unharmed by her ordeal.
“Satisfied?” he asked.
Hattie laid a hand on Charlotte’s forehead. “She sleeps deeply.”
“I had my men give her a drug earlier—she will awaken by morning. It has no lasting effects.” He crossed his arms. “And now I think it’s time you and I discussed business.”
Hattie’s fists clenched. “I have money—I can pay you.” She reached into her skirt pocket and removed the roll of money, holding it out.
He took it, quickly assessing the amount, his mouth twisting as he realized its probable source. There was a certain sense of poetic justice, he mused, in receiving cash Charles and Clive Johnson had no doubt acquired through the transport of prostitutes to the Far East, given that they’d spread rumors intimating his own involvement in the scheme.
“This is a start,” he agreed smoothly, pocketing the cash. “I’ll reluctantly drop my earlier proposition, but I’ll also need your assurance that you won’t alter the arrangement I have with Longren Shipping.”
She said nothing, her eyes filling with anger.
“May I remind you,” he said, hardening his tone, “that you and Charlotte aren’t safe. I can give an order, and the two of you will disappear this night, your bodies never to be found. And I can get to you and your sister anytime, anywhere.”
Her shoulders sagged, her tone bitter. “I won’t interfere with the running of Longren Shipping in the future.”
He nodded, straightening. “Then we are agreed. I will arrange for the two of you to be taken home.”
“I only have one question, Mr. Seavey.” He paused and turned to meet her cold gaze. “How does a man like you sleep through the night?”
“More easily than you would imagine, my dear. Much more easily.”
* * *
HATTIE didn’t break down until Seavey’s men had safely delivered Charlotte to her bed and departed from the house. After assuring herself that Charlotte was indeed sleeping comfortably and well cared for, she let herself into the second-floor parlor, collapsing into a chair by the fire.
She shook uncontrollably from head to toe. At least they were safe—for now. And as long as she did as Seavey bid her regarding the business, they could remain safe. She had to cling to that thought.
Frank entered the room, concern etched into his features. “Those were Seavey’s thugs.”
“Yes.” She quickly wiped the tears from her eyes and stood. “They brought the two of us home. Sara and Tabitha are tending to Charlotte.”
Frank said nothing, his sharp eyes searching hers, then held open his arms. She knew she shouldn’t, that etiquette dictated an extended period of mourning for good reason. She shouldn’t crave the touch of another man so soon after Charles’s death. She walked into Frank’s arms, taking care to avoid his ribs. And for the first time all night, as she laid her head on his shoulder, she felt a moment’s peace.
“You’re safe … you’ll be fine,” he murmured, one hand coming up to cup the back of her neck, his fingers massaging.
She shivered at his touch.
After a long moment, she forced herself to pull away, incapable of meeting his eyes. She clasped her hands in front of her skirt. “I had to agree to conditions that will make it impossible for Longren Shipping to unionize. And I suspect I’ve put you in further jeopardy.”