The Devil of Downtown

by Joanna Shupe

  Instead of pulling off, she held on tighter—and his body began contracting, wave after wave of bliss slamming into him as he poured into her mouth. His mind went blank, limbs trembling. He might have shouted.

  It was over quickly, but he couldn’t move. She pulled off and pressed a final kiss to the hypersensitive crown, which would’ve caused him to shiver if he were capable of it. He heard her laugh. “Should I worry that you’ll fall asleep?”

  “No, but I need a minute before I’m able to think again.”

  She sat up and settled into the seat beside him. “That was fun.”

  “Hmm. Fun, indeed.” He might never recover. “I haven’t spent that fast since I was a lad.”

  “Really?”

  He nodded. “You are quite unexpected.”

  “In a good way, I hope.”

  Opening his eyes, he leaned over and pressed a kiss to her soft and swollen lips. “The very best way.” Lights outside the carriage caught his eye. He recognized the spires of Grace Church. “What in the hell . . . ?”

  As quickly as he could, he tucked his cock away, buttoned up his trousers and then pounded on the side of the carriage. “Where are you going? Why are we on Broadway?” he shouted to Rye.

  “Don’t be cross with him,” Justine said. “I told him to take me back uptown. I have to return home.”

  “Home? Why?”

  “My sisters are watching me more carefully than I’d thought, it turns out. I’d rather not have to answer questions when I return late.”

  “Damn it. I had plans for you tonight.”

  “You’ll have to save them for an afternoon instead.”

  He considered fucking her in his bed with sunlight streaming through the windows, a light breeze blowing through the room . . . and his disappointment ebbed slightly. “Tell me what they said.”

  “It’s not worth discussing.”

  Reaching over, he pulled her onto his lap. She fit perfectly against him. He liked holding her, probably more than he should. “It is worth discussing if it upset you.”

  She rested her head on his shoulder. “They think I am out of my depth with you. That you’ll hurt me.”

  Mrs. Tripp might possibly believe as much, but Florence should know him better than to say that. “I would never hurt you, cara. I’d rather saw off my own arm with a rusty blade.”

  “I told them I was perfectly safe, but they do not believe it. Mamie said she would tell our parents if I don’t quit seeing you.”

  Jack’s jaw clenched, but he forced an easy tone. “Bit hypocritical of her, isn’t it? Frank Tripp wasn’t exactly squeaky clean when they met.”

  “Precisely what I said. And Clay was no angel, either. It is ridiculous.”

  Understatement. Clayton Madden was like Jack, only without the charisma, charm and good looks. Though Clay had given up his enterprise for Florence Greene. “I’m not afraid of your father, if that’s your concern.”

  “Nor am I. The worst is they might ship me off to a convent in Europe.” She shrugged. “That wouldn’t be so bad.”

  “It wouldn’t?” It sounded like hell on earth to him.

  “They perform a lot of charity endeavors. Not to mention that convents are peaceful and pretty. I’ve considered it.”

  “You considered joining a convent? Taking of the vows, the celibacy?”

  “Why are you so surprised? It wasn’t until recently that I even knew what I’d be missing.”

  He didn’t begrudge any woman for answering a higher calling, but Manhattan without this clever do-gooder trying to save it? Unthinkable. He began gathering her skirts in one hand, exposing her legs.

  “What are you doing?” She tried to push the cloth down and he stopped to explain.

  “I plan on making you come at least once during this journey. In the interest of showing you more of what you’d be missing, of course.”

  “Oh.” She moved her hand. “Show away, then.”

  Jack spent the rest of the ride with his hand between her legs, the joy of her non-celibacy ringing in his ears.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Justine knocked on the door of salon number twenty-five inside the Hoffman House Hotel. Male voices could be heard arguing inside. After a few seconds, she knocked again, louder. The door opened and a man appeared, frowning at her. “Who are you?”

  “We wish to speak with Mr. Keller.”

  “Again, who are you?”

  “Miss Greene and Mrs. Frank Tripp.”

  The man scrutinized Justine then Mamie. “Hold on.” He closed the door with a snap.

  “You owe me ten favors in exchange for this errand,” Mamie whispered.

  “Fine,” Justine answered with a roll of her eyes. “Just be quiet. I shall do all the talking.”

  The Hoffman House Hotel was one of the very best in the city, where famous actors and English dukes came to stay. It was also where Tammany men gathered to plot and scheme their stranglehold on New York City politics and business.

  Through one of the attorneys at the legal aid society, Justine learned that Mr. Keller, second-in-command at Tammany Hall, handled the appointments for the police department. It also happened that Keller convened every afternoon inside a Hoffman House salon for a long business-related lunch.

  Justine hadn’t bothered trying to get an appointment. Keller certainly would not have agreed to meet and catching him unaware, before he had time to form a counterargument, seemed a wiser plan.

  “I don’t like how secretive you are being,” Mamie hissed.

  Justine hadn’t told Mamie anything about today’s errand. First, Mamie would have tried to talk her out of it. Second, Mamie would have told Florence, who would have tried to talk Justine out of it.

  Still, she hadn’t wished to come alone. Keller might’ve made assumptions about an unmarried woman alone that were completely wrong. She might ignore propriety to suit her purposes downtown, but there were times when acting the part mattered.

  Today was about presenting Miss Justine Greene, daughter of Mr. Duncan Greene, as a serious candidate for the New York City Metropolitan Police Department.

  She had considered asking Jack to come with her, but immediately rejected the idea. She could do this on her own. For years, she had been looking after herself. Merely because he kissed her from time to time didn’t mean she could trouble him with every little problem. He likely had a thousand problems every day. She refused to burden him with more of hers.

  They hadn’t yet discussed where things stood between them. She liked him—quite a bit, actually—but he was just a friend. Not that he’d asked for more, but she wasn’t ready for something serious. Perhaps in a few years. Their encounters were fun and satisfying . . . and that’s all she let herself dwell on at the moment. Worries were for another day.

  She cut her eyes toward her sister. “Relax, it is nothing dangerous.”

  “Is this related to some case at the legal aid society?”

  “Not directly.”

  “Remind me to strangle you when we leave. I swear, I’m never doing another errand with you unless I know—”

  The door opened once more and the same man appeared. “Come in.”

  Justine stepped inside the salon, where a group of six men were gathered. Cigars were being extinguished, whiskey tumblers set aside. All of them stood, but only one man walked forward. He was short in stature, a beard setting off his dark eyes.

  “Miss Greene, Mrs. Tripp. I am Mr. Keller.”

  “Mr. Keller.” Justine strode forward with her hand extended, which Keller shook. “Thank you for seeing us.”

  “It’s not often that women such as yourselves seek out an audience. Please have a seat.”

  The rest of the men in the room disappeared, save Keller and the man who’d opened the door. Justine and Mamie sat, as did Keller. He asked, “How may I help you ladies?”

  “I work with my sister Mrs. Tripp and my brother-in-law at the Lower East Side Legal Aid Society,” Justine said.


  “I am aware,” Keller said. “You have made quite a name for yourselves in that endeavor. I have known Mr. Tripp a long time.”

  Mamie did not seem the least bit surprised to hear it. Everyone knew Frank Tripp.

  “Even before that work,” Justine continued, “I spent quite a lot of time downtown helping people through various charities and organizations. Though I’ve had some success, it has often been difficult to get lasting results without authority behind me.”

  “That’s not my impression. They speak of you as if you’re some sort of miracle worker.”

  “A generous implication at best. I could accomplish much more if I were given a certain level of status with the city.”

  “Such as?”

  “I wish to join the police force. Not as a matron. I’d like to carry a badge and investigate cases. With full arrest capabilities.”

  Mamie went perfectly still but said nothing, thankfully. Keller just stroked his beard and studied Justine. “I don’t understand. I heard you’ve been working with Mulligan.”

  Justine’s mouth opened and closed. How had Keller come by such information? “I am not . . . That is, we are not working together. Mr. Mulligan and I are friendly and have collaborated recently on a few projects. However, those have been resolved.”

  “Ah. Does Mulligan know that?”

  She frowned, uncertain why that should matter. “I believe so. And it is a totally separate issue from what I am requesting.”

  “Not exactly separate, but we’ll leave that for now. You are aware there are no female officers in the department.”

  “I am aware. However, there are many cases that women could handle exclusively—”

  “What you are suggesting would take jobs away from men, men who must provide for families at home. Whom exactly are you providing for?”

  “That’s not the point.”

  Keller shook his head, as if she were a child incapable of understanding the adults in the room. “That is precisely the point. You wish to take the spot of a man, one without your family’s resources and privilege, and leave him out of a job.”

  “But there are cases not being investigated because the department does not have the resources or the ability to follow up on them.”

  “Such as?”

  “Husbands who desert their wives. Labor issues involving women and children.”

  Keller’s lips twisted. “Are you presuming to know more about labor issues than I do, Miss Greene? We oversee the unions in this city. Are we not doing a sufficient enough job for you?”

  This was deteriorating quickly. Keller wasn’t understanding her, clearly. “What about the husbands who desert their wives?”

  “A family issue, one the police shouldn’t interfere with.”

  Justine could feel her skin heating, frustration building in her veins. Remaining calm was normally not an issue for her, but Keller made her want to jump up and scream.

  Mamie must’ve sensed Justine’s mood because she spoke up. “Mr. Keller, my sister is not suggesting that she replace a man on the department staff. She is asking to be added, to be allowed to join them, not displace them.”

  “Mrs. Tripp, all due respect to you and your husband, but these are not the kind of men who wish to work side by side with a woman. Their jobs are often dangerous. How are we to ensure everyone’s safety if they’re worried about a hysterical woman in their midst?”

  “Perhaps Justine is capable of looking after herself. I have seen her in many situations, in all sorts of neighborhoods, and never once has she been close to hysterical.”

  “Serving soup and handing out pamphlets hardly qualifies as the kinds of work she’d be involved in as a police officer.”

  Mamie’s eyes narrowed at his condescending tone. “Yes, taking bribes and looking the other way from crime requires a special skill.”

  The temperature in the room plummeted. Keller’s expression hardened, his eyes cold. “I’m certain our fine officers wouldn’t appreciate such characterization of their work.”

  Justine rushed to smooth things over by trying another tack. “Mr. Keller, women make up almost half the city. We should have some sort of representation on the police force.”

  “You do. There are matrons, not to mention that most of the officers have wives.”

  “Wives? How does that help, exactly?”

  Keller waved a hand. “You know, as Mrs. Tripp assists her husband at the legal aid society. A sounding board when he requires it, a comforting ear at home.”

  “A sounding board?” Mamie’s voice rose about eight octaves. “I am more than my husband’s sounding board.”

  “I mean no offense, Mrs. Tripp. But surely, Miss Greene, you can now see that the highly emotional state of a woman has no place on the police force. They rely on science and logic, which men are more naturally inclined toward.” He rose and thrust his hands in his pockets. “In time, you’ll come to see it’s for the best.”

  Justine rose, her shoulders weighted down with defeat. Mamie appeared one hair’s breadth away from ripping Keller’s beard off his face. Justine gave her sister a warning glance before facing Keller once more. “I implore you to speak with Detective Ellison at police headquarters. He and I have collaborated on a number of cases and he can speak to my relevant experience.”

  Keller’s expression remained unchanged. “That won’t be necessary. I cannot recommend you for the department. There’s nothing in it for me or Tammany except bearing the unhappiness of every other officer on the force.”

  “This was a waste of time,” Mamie told Justine. “Let’s go.”

  Justine exhaled and stared at the floor, her mind spinning. How was she supposed to fight such antiquated ideas about women and the workplace? Was her gender to be forever circumscribed to secretarial work and department stores? “You are wrong, Mr. Keller. Women and children are suffering in this city, being left behind because no one watches out for them. Someday—and I hope it is soon—we will get the vote and men will then be answerable to us.”

  “No offense, but I hope Hades freezes over first.” He bowed. “Mrs. Tripp, give your husband my best. And Miss Greene, please pass on my regards to Mulligan.”

  Justine headed for the door, not intending to do anything of the kind. She planned to see Jack imminently . . . and Keller would not enjoy the results.

  Jack squinted up at O’Shaughnessy’s man. “You don’t mind if I count it, do you?”

  Whip, as the errand boy was called, said nothing, his eyes filled with resentment. Jack nearly sighed. The lack of respect in these young men today . . .

  He peeled apart the handles of the satchel Whip had presented. Large stacks of money rested inside. Was it enough? If O’Shaughnessy thought Jack would accept one cent less than what had been stolen, he was sorely mistaken.

  “Have a seat, Whip. Cooper will fix you a drink. I should have this sorted in no time.” No one could count money faster than Jack.

  Cooper didn’t offer options, merely poured a glass of whiskey and set it on Jack’s desk. Jack busied himself with the cash, Rye propped against the wall behind him. No one spoke. Other than Jack, no one moved. Tension hovered, the room bracing itself for disaster to strike at any moment. Jack tried not to think about that as he counted.

  Really, he didn’t want to war with O’Shaughnessy. He would, if provoked or pushed, but he wouldn’t enjoy it. Not like the Jack of a few years ago—hell, a few months ago—who would’ve relished the challenge. But warring with O’Shaughnessy would put everything he’d built in danger, not to mention everyone in his life. That included one beautiful, captivating do-gooder.

  O’Shaughnessy wouldn’t hesitate to use Justine to hurt Jack, and God only knew what she would be subjected to in the wrong hands. Jack would never be able to live with himself if something happened to her. Even the idea of it filled him with terror.

  So, he had to keep her safe. No matter what. If things with O’Shaughnessy turned serious, he’d send her out of town for
a bit. She wouldn’t like it but he wouldn’t give her a choice. Perhaps a short stay at a quiet convent, where the ugliness of his life wouldn’t touch her. How could she object to that?

  If O’Shaughnessy was anything like Jack, the plotting to take over had probably already started. Jack would need to put the entire crew on alert, plus see if his informants could find anything out. With Justine running about downtown he couldn’t risk her safety by waiting to see what Trevor would do. He needed to cut the threat off before it gained legs.

  Why do all your decisions revolve around Justine these days?

  He ignored that voice. There was no debating his need to keep her safe. It was vital to his peace of mind. Like his secret Bond Street home and the bank accounts no one knew about. Those things allowed him to sleep at night.

  He finished up with the last stack. “That’s all of it.” He came to his feet. “This concludes our visit, Whip. I hope you’ve enjoyed it as much as I have.”

  Without speaking, the young man stood and started for the door. Jack held up a hand and Cooper instantly blocked Whip’s path. Jack strolled forward, drew closer, until he was in Whip’s space. He clasped him on the shoulder and lowered his voice. “Tell O’Shaughnessy this had better never happen again.”

  Whip tensed but didn’t respond. Just as Jack released him, the door flew open and bounced into Cooper’s back. A feminine voice said, “Oh, goodness. I apologize. I didn’t realize anyone was standing there.”

  Justine.

  What was she doing here? More importantly, how had she arrived at his office unannounced?

  Cooper stepped aside and Justine entered. She took in the room. “Good afternoon,” she said politely to Whip. Instead of answering, Whip darted through the cracked door and disappeared into the corridor. After a quick look from Jack, Cooper followed O’Shaughnessy’s man. They didn’t need the enemy lingering, especially with Justine on the premises.