Pulling her hood over her head, Hannah crept out of the mouth of the alley onto the street, glancing from side to side to make sure no one was watching her. Ever since she’d left the Weiss home the other night, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was being watched.
Or more, her instincts told her that she was. Each time she’d gone out to make inquiries about Sol and his whereabouts, a chill that had nothing to do with the frigid temperatures trailed fingers down her neck. Not to mention Mick and George seemed to be getting bolder by the day, shaking down even the smallest of players on the streets with no one rising up to challenge them.
Another reason to be extra careful with her work.
The West End had been more of a dead end and nearly cost her a toe, as no one could confirm whether Sol had arrived or not. So, given the meeting Roger Berab had been on about him missing, Hannah had concluded that whatever happened to him had occurred early in the day. After he’d seen her. She pushed herself against the sides of buildings, where the snow didn’t accumulate, so as not to leave tracks, and worked to wind through the small streets and cut-throughs instead of the main thoroughfares, for good measure.
Besides, she’d permitted herself to be kidnapped. Her instincts were supposed to be sharper than that. And the only kind of man who could’ve done that would’ve needed to blend on the streets—her streets—long enough to grab her. Something precious few outsiders, if any, could accomplish.
Which meant Frederick Weiss had reach into her world. Which shouldn’t bother her. After all, who knew better than she what it meant to make great sacrifices in respectability to build a life for a sibling? Such sacrifices made him the best person to understand what Sol needed and wanted. The person who most certainly had the right to protect him from her.
After she found him.
Which would be soon if the tip she’d received was true. A woman desperate to sell a pair of combs had shared the strangest story: the body of a man being wheeled off in a cart by what was believed to be a group of elderly women.
Hannah shivered as another icy gust made quick work of her threadbare cloak. Her destination wasn’t far, in theory, but if she was going to make it there without being followed… Was someone trying to harm the Weiss brothers? The more she learned of Frederick, both regarding his tactics and the waves he was making in gentile circles, the more she believed it to be a possibility. And it would make sense to threaten his sibling as leverage.
Though… Hannah frowned as she slid around the side of a tanner, wrinkling her nose at the stench. One would’ve thought that if someone was going to threaten Frederick with Sol’s safety, they’d have been less circumspect—given Frederick an unmistakable message. And while itwas highly doubtful the man would’ve shared something like that with her, one would’ve thought he’d have shared such a warning with Sol so his brother would’ve known to be on high alert.
A twinge of something like guilt twisted below Hannah’s ribs.
Which was ridiculous. Yes, she’d not exactly told Tamar about Ned’s threats or the burglary she’d participated in, but that was different. There just wasn’t a need. The situation would right itself if they could hold on and the job was a one-time occurrence and—she froze at the edge of the alley. There was someone by her door. Cloaked in shadow. Waiting.
As quietly as possible, she bent in the snow, working her way behind the trough to get a better view without being seen. Squinting through a slat of wood, she peered through the moonlight at the unfortunately familiar figure.
Oy. Why did it have to be Ned? What could he possibly want? Nothing good, that was for certain. She really did not need this now.
But unfortunately, it wasn’t as if she had a choice. Heart in her ears, she rose, and strolled toward the man with as much false confidence as she could muster.
“Fancy seeing you out here, Hannah,” he said as she pulled down her hood, revealing her face and hair to the night sky, snowflakes now chilling her ears.
“I live here.” She jabbed a thumb in the direction of her store before tugging her cloak tighter around her body. “Besides, I don’t answer to you anymore,” she told him, keeping her voice as steady as possible, so as neither to challenge him with aggression nor entice him with fear.
“How has that been going for you?” he asked with a smirk, as if to let her know that he most certainly knew about the recent struggles and was proud of any part he’d played in them.
Momzer.She bit her tongue so as not to say the word out loud. “I get by,” she said instead, tucking a loose strand of now slightly wet hair behind her ear.
He cocked his head. “Do you?” he asked, his voice soft but with a distinct edge. He traipsed a step toward her, reaching out and tracing a finger down her cheek. “You know, we were good together.” He moved closer so he could run his hand along the side of her neck, where he’d last left bruises. Hannah’s stomach roiled, even as she schooled her features to remain nonchalant.
“I thought I was getting too old and disagreeable for you?” she told him, with a half smile, before taking a step back, just out of his grasp, her skirts swirling in the wind as she reached a hand into her pocket to finger the handle of her knife.
“That doesn’t mean we can’t rekindle the good times,” he said, apparently unwilling to let her, or the subject, go. In two steps he was back to hovering over her. “I know you need money.” His fingers dipped down the front of her gown, toying with a hole where a button they couldn’t afford to replace should be.
“I can make it without you,” she said, folding her arms. She could. Especially if Frederick paid what he’d promised. And maybe had other jobs for her. And perhaps whatever rumors Ned had spread about her would be forgotten. Things would turn around. She just needed to wait and survive. Like always.
Ned released a low chuckle. “You’re a terrible liar. You’d think you’d be better, given what you are, but no,this gives everything away.” He caressed her cheek and her throat tightened. “You should come back to me,” he whispered, leaning forward and kissing her ear.
She hated his touch but didn’t move away. Tears of frustration swarmed behind her eyes, and it took everything in her to hold them at bay.
“I think not,” she told him. She squeezed the hilt of her weapon before pulling it out, not fulling brandishing it, but holding it between them so as to make him aware that it wouldn’t be so easy to dispatch her this time.
Ned, however, did not back down. Instead, he shook his head at her, tutting. “I see you’re lying to yourself as well.”
Hannah blinked. “Pardon?”
“He doesn’t love you. He’s only interested because he’s a bored rich boy and you seem dangerous and exciting. He can never make you fit into his world. Not when you belong in this one.” Ned didn’t need to say who “he” was. And while it bothered her that the man had seen them together, no doubt when he’d come back to threaten her again, the true punch in the gut was the fact that he was right.
Not about Sol being arrogant or spoiled, no matter how much he pretended to be both when it suited him, but that she’d never belong in his world, and he’d never belong in hers. And while he might think she was good for more than a few “tumbles in the sheets,” he’d understand he was mistaken soon enough. How could he not? Even Ned of all people could see the truth… and now she’d put him in Ned’s view, a dangerous position to be in no matter how well off he was.
