“Good.” She seemed almost relieved by his declaration. “Hopefully you can stick to that.”
“Hopefully you can too.”
“I’ll have no trouble.”
“Neither will I.” Oh aye, he would have lots of trouble keeping his hands off her, and that was precisely the problem with their pretense. But now that he’d agreed to be in a temporary relationship, he had to follow through or he would look like a coward.
She started forward down the alley. This time she didn’t protest when he fell into step beside her.
He might not know exactly how to put their plan into action, but one thing was certain. He owed her an apology. “I’m sorry if I haven’t been nice to you. I suppose I didn’t like that you found out my ... secret, and I’ve been reacting.”
“That’s what I figured.” She turned onto a short gravel path that led to the next alley, then halted to look both ways before staying in the dark shadows.
Maybe she would have been fine returning home on her own after all.
He didn’t think any of the gangs would be out stirring uptrouble tonight, especially because Shaw and several other leaders of the Farrell gang had just been arrested for instigating destruction at Kiernan’s brickyard. The arrest had hopefully sent a message that the rising gang violence wouldn’t be tolerated.
But just because the gangs weren’t acting up didn’t mean the crime in St. Louis had gone away. If anything, it was worse, mainly because the police force was lacking. Budget cuts earlier in the year had depleted the already floundering St. Louis City Guard, which was now down from forty men to only thirty.
The small force was responsible for patrolling the city twenty-four hours a day, but usually only one lieutenant and six patrolmen were out walking their beats at any given time. In a city whose population had grown by the thousands over recent years, the police were certainly outnumbered and underpaid.
As a result, the number of bank robberies had increased that year. Just back in March, the great Nisbet Robbery had occurred. William Nisbet & Company, a banking and lending institution, had been robbed of nearly thirty thousand dollars.
The outlaws had worked through most of the night with picks and hammers to smash their way through multiple brick walls, some as large as three feet thick, to reach the safe. Once there, apparently they’d hammered away at the thick sheet iron until they had a hole big enough for one of the robbers to climb through. They’d emptied the safe and gotten away undetected.
Thanks be, the police captain had been able to track down and catch the crooks two weeks later. But the robbery hadtriggered a string of crimes. More businesses had been targeted by safecrackers. The fire in May and then the return of the cholera shortly after that had tempered some of the crime, but it was only a matter of time before the problems escalated again.
Even so, Zaira didn’t seem overly worried about the nighttime crime in St. Louis. She didn’t seem to be afraid of much anymore. Not like that night long ago when Bellamy had helped her back home after she and her friends had been threatened by some ruffians. She’d been relieved to be with him, and he’d been so worried about her.
Regardless, there was no way he would let any woman walk alone this late at night, especially someone as special as Zaira.
As soon as the thought floated through his mind, he almost tripped. Zaira special? Where had that come from?
“You should know,” she said, “I won’t say anything about your ... secret. And I hope you’ll be kind enough to do the same for mine.”
“Rightly so.”
She halted abruptly and clutched his arm, cautioning him with a finger to her lips not to speak.
His muscles tightened, and his body was alert for anything. He wanted to ask what she’d noticed. Instead, he waited motionless, listening for danger.
Soft sniffles came from behind the rubbish heap that sat to the side of the alley only a few feet away.
She released him and took a step closer.
He latched on to her arm and drew her back.
“Is someone there?” she asked.
He tensed, ready to defend her if needed. He didn’t carrya gun, but he did have a knife sheathed at his side, one he’d had to pull out a time or two during fights in the pub. Only to threaten unruly drunks. Never to harm anyone.
He prayed he never would have to hurt anyone with it, not now or in the future. He wasn’t the type of fellow who relished fighting, not even watching other men throwing punches. He much preferred to find peaceful, nonviolent resolutions to problems.
However, he wouldn’t hesitate to use his knife to keep Zaira safe. Not even a heartbeat.
At a slight movement and a soft cry behind the rubbish, Zaira took another step forward, as though to discover whoever was there.
He held her in place while at the same time sidling in front of her. As he did so, the stench of the refuse reached him—a mixture of human waste and rotting food.
