But he hadn’t planned on the body.
A reporter. A goddamn reporter.
So far, his gamble appeared to have paid off, as she seemed not to know who he was, but he wasn’t taking any chances.
“Just what the hell do you think you’re doing?” he demanded, deliberately keeping his Bowery accent thick. Hopefully she’d had enough of a scare for one day. He surreptitiously glanced toward the dead man.
The woman glared back at him, pulling toward the street. “Let me go,” she hissed. “Or I’ll hit you again.”
Daniel stared at her incredulously. She apparently hadn’t been scared enough. “I’ve seen grown men killed for less than the stunts you were pulling there,” he yelled, resisting the urge to give her a little shake. Christ, the woman had just barely escaped two of the most notorious criminals in the Bend and was sharing Bottle Alley with a corpse. Most women he knew would have fainted by now.
“Just let me go and let me leave,” she said, suddenly looking tired. “I assume you wouldn’t have saved me from them if you wanted to harm me yourself, so please let me go.” She tugged at her arm again, trying to release herself from his grasp.
“I’ll let you go after I’ve put you in a cab,” he responded, leading the woman toward the open end of the alley. He glanced at her again as they walked and shook his head, wondering at her foolishness. “You nearly got yourself killed tonight, and I wanna make sure you get out of here before you finish the job.”
The woman pursed her lips but said nothing. They reached the alley’s end. It was almost full night, and the gas lamps illuminated the area’s run-down buildings with a soft light. Daniel scanned the street for an oncoming carriage.
“Who is he, or was he?” she asked quietly as she looked back over her shoulder.
He felt a slight tremor pass through her arm. He knew exactly who she meant, but he had no intention of answering. The sooner she forgot what she’d seen, the better. He tightened his grip on her arm and kept scanning the street for a carriage.
“What about Robin Hood? Do you know anything about him?” she probed again, her voice soft in the night. “I heard you talking about him with those men.”
Daniel’s irritation rose. “See, miss, these are exactly the kind of questions that could get you killed.” He fixed her with his piercing stare. “People round here don’t like talking to strangers. I need you to promise me I won’t see you in this part of town no more.”
She gazed at him levelly. “I want this story. I could do it justice, do it right. I know what I did tonight was rash, and really, thank you for helping me. But I have to pursue this, especially after tonight. It’s the best story in the city right now.” Her look changed to one of pleading. “Please, if you know anything, talk to me.”
He shook his head at her. “Drop it, miss. None of you reporters is gonna find out anything about the Hood unless he wants to be found. Now promise me.”
“I don’t have to promise you anything,” she replied angrily, looking down the street for a cab now herself. She tugged at her arm again and glared up at him. “Why can’t you let me go?” She scowled, pulling harder.
At the sound of an oncoming carriage, both Daniel and the woman turned toward the noise. Quickly noting that it was someone’s private conveyance and not a cab, Daniel turned back, only to find his face inches from the pretty reporter’s.
She was tall enough that he wouldn’t have to stoop to kiss her full, lovely mouth. Were he inclined to kiss her.
She blinked in surprise, breaking the fragile spell.
Daniel turned away to cover his unease and used two fingers of his free hand to sound a low, long whistle. Within a moment a cab clambered into view.
He paid the driver as the reporter stepped into the carriage with a surprising amount of dignity for someone so covered in muck.
“Where’s she going?” the driver asked.
“I don’t know,” Daniel muttered. He didn’t like this unhinged feeling he was having; he just wanted this troublesome female out of his sight. Reporters always brought rotten luck, and this one was no different. “Take her home, wherever that is.” He peered into the cab’s window at the girl, who stared stonily ahead. “He’ll take you home, miss. Now please, do us both a favor and stay away from this part of town.”
She favored him with an icy glare. “Not to worry, sir. I sincerely doubt we shall ever meet again.” She rapped the roof of the cab sharply. “Washington Square, driver.”
With a small lurch, the carriage pulled away. Daniel watched it go, absent-mindedly rubbing his jaw where he’d been hit. Whoever she was, that odd and pretty woman packed quite a punch.
“Washington Square,” he said softly. Well, that address could mean any number of things; all kinds of people lived on the Square now. The girl was probably right about one thing, though. It was doubtful they’d ever cross paths again.
Still, he’d gotten damn lucky tonight. Had she known who he was, he’d probably have had to board the next steamer back to London. While he could cross the Atlantic in relative comfort, he’d just returned to his hometown a few months ago and would prefer to wait another year or so before heading abroad again. He had things to take care of here in New York.
Starting with what, or who, was waiting for him in the alley.
CHAPTER 2
The appearance of the blonde reporter in one
