“Evening, Cat.”
Her smile grew. “Jasper. May I come in?”
He stood back so that she could slink through the window into the room. She was all muscled grace as she slipped one arm over the sill and then the other, bracing her palms on either side of the frame as she leaned back and swung both legs inside. Her knees bent toward the floor as her torso appeared, then her head. Then she rose to her feet in one fluid motion.
Jasper gave her a quick nod. “That’s quite the display.”
She shrugged, lilac eyes taking in the opulence of the room. “Nice place.”
“It’ll do,” he replied drily. “What brings you here, Cat?” He wasn’t trying to be rude, but he knew the gang leader wasn’t there on a social call.
Gnawing on the side of her thumb, she plunked herself down on the bed and reclined there, braced back on her elbows, as if it was her own. “There’s a strange rumor going round Five Points.”
When she didn’t immediately elaborate, Jasper raised a brow. “So far, I don’t know what that has to do with me.”
She crossed her feet at the ankles. The soles of her boots were dusty but not dirty enough that he worried for the quilt. “The rumor is that there’s to be a riot tomorrow night. All the gangs. Word is that the cops are going to hit the area full force to contain the participants.”
Jasper stared at her. He knew that Wildcat’s grandfather, a freed slave, had been shot and killed during a riot back in the ’60s. She had to be thinking about that right now. Had to be worried or maybe even frightened.
“You want to stay here?” he asked. “There’s not a lot of room, but you’re welcome to stay until it all blows over.”
She bolted upright, sitting so that her legs hung over the side and her elbows rested on her knees. “There ain’t no riot, Jasper. None of the gangs know anything about it, even though they’re supposed to be involved.”
He shook his head. “I don’t understand.”
“Someone started the rumor to make sure all the police are going to be in Five Points instead of someplace else.”
Frowning, Jasper crossed his arms over his chest and leaned his shoulders against the wall. The Historical Society event was tomorrow night. That couldn’t be a coincidence; he knew better than that. “Would that someone happen to be Reno Dalton?”
Wildcat inclined her head, a slow smile taking over her lips. “Seems to be. I had to do an awful lot of digging to find that out, otherwise I would have been here sooner. That scalawag has something planned, and he’s putting my people at risk over it.”
Anger glittered in her unusual eyes. Wildcat might run with a rough bunch—might be the leader of a rough bunch— but she cared about her people and tried to make certain they had the best lives possible given the poverty of the Five Points neighborhood.
“We think he’s got a job planned, Cat. I reckon he wants to make sure the law isn’t around to interfere.”
Her pretty face hardened. “People are going to die tomorrow night, Jasper. The cops will shoot first and ‘express their remorse’ later. Remorse can’t raise the dead.”
There was nothing Jasper could do about that. Even if he went to the police, they wouldn’t believe him, and there was a very good chance they had a wanted poster with his face on it. However, Whip might be able to do something.
“I’ll see what I can do, Cat. Meanwhile, tell your people to stay inside, avoid the normal fighting grounds and not to travel in packs—anything that could be mistaken for aggressive activity.”
Wildcat swore, then sat there, her lips tight. “I guess that’s all I can ask for.”
“I wish I could do more.”
Her gaze locked with his. “You can get that trash out of my town.”
“I plan to. In chains.”
That put a smile on her face—full of fangs. “You do that, and I’ll give you that six-shooter you were always trying to talk me into giving you.”
The thought of actually having that pistol cut through the fog of depression that had surrounded him since Mei’s betrayal. “You don’t have to do that.”
“I want you to have it.” She rose to her feet. “I have to get back and spread the word. Most of them will listen to me, but those Dead Rabbits and Bowery Boys can be an ornery, stubborn bunch. They might decide to taunt the cops. Idiots.”
As she moved toward the window, Jasper said, “You can use the door, you know.”
Cat threw a grin at him over her shoulder as she slipped a leg out the window. “And let the fancies see me? Nah, I have a reputation to uphold. Take care, Jas.”
He smiled. “You too, Cat.”
And then she was gone. He wondered if she climbed down the building or jumped—she had a knack for always landing on her feet.
He consulted his pocket watch. It was almost half past seven. He would be meeting Griffin and the others soon for dinner; he’d relay what Cat had told him then.
For the first time since being roped back into Dalton’s circle, Jasper felt like there might actually—finally—be an end to this chapter of his life. He would be exonerated of the murder charges, and his family would be released from the shame that lie had brought upon them.
He could look toward the future now and stop living in the past. He could move on. Hopefully his heart would, too.
Finley’s eyes snapped open. The room was dark save for the moonlight shining through her open window.
That window had been closed when she went to bed.
Hunkered down beneath the covers, she let her gaze move slowly from the curtains gently billowing in the breeze to survey the rest of the room. Unless she’d developed the habit of opening windows in her sleep, she was not alone. The faint creak of floorboards confirmed the suspicion.
She had been expecting Dalton to send an assassin after her and Jasper. In fact, she was surprised he’d waited this long to try to snuff them out. No doubt he wanted to foster a false sense of security in them before he struck, lovely bloke that he was.
Keeping her breathing shallow, she feigned sleep, waiting for her would-be killer to make his or her move. They would choose an up-close-and-personal method of death, of course, as firing a pistol would attract too much attention. Her eyes were open just enough to watch the shadows in the room.
One of the shadows moved, taking on a human shape as it drifted toward her. It was too big to be Mei. Disappointing, that. She’d rather hoped she would get the chance to square off against the detestable chit. It was also too small to be Little Hank. Either it was one of the other fellows, or Dalton had hired a professional. Or perhaps an amateur, given how easily she had sensed his presence.
The shadowy figure came closer, moving up the side of the bed to hover by her head, blocking out most of the moonlight. Closer it came, bending over her, a length of rope stretched between both hands. Finley waited until that rope just barely touched her neck before reaching up, grabbing the assassin’s coat and pulling him down to smash her forehead into his nose. He cried out—her assumption that her attacker was a man had been correct—but she didn’t let go.
Finley came up onto her knees, still holding the man. He’d regained his wits and struggled against her hold, but he wasn’t much of a threat without his rope. She coshed him with her head again—this time hard enough to knock him out.
Then—still in her unmentionables—she climbed out of bed, flipped him onto his stomach on the floor and used his own rope to tie his hands behind his back. She used the laces out of one of her corsets to secure his feet and then tied the lace to the rope, effectively “hog-tying” him.
The thought of Jasper’s colloquialism made her think of the cowboy himself. If an assassin had come for her, one might have come for Jasper, as well. Or maybe hers was supposed to eliminate both of them, but she couldn’t be certain.
Hastily, she threw on the trousers she had borrowed from Griffin and the shirt, as well. They hadn’t been
