The moment Rose was out of the room, Liam exhaled a covert sigh of relief. Squaring his shoulders, he turned back to Jimmy. His rival's son glared up at him in forced silence, the handkerchief stuffed unceremoniously into his mouth.

“Now that there are no more distractions, how's about you and me get down to business?” Liam asked. A muffled sound of protest came from Jimmy's obstructed mouth, which Liam chose to ignore. “Ransom, Jackson, our guest needs a flat surface to write on.”

His brothers shared a smirk.

“O'course, Liam,” Jackson said.

The pair of them each grabbed one side of the desk, lifted it, and maneuvered it across the room. Archie pulled Liam's now-vacant chair out of the way, and Ransom and Jackson set the desk down directly in front of Jimmy.

Liam retrieved the stack of folders from Mickey and laid out the documents on the desktop before Gallagher's son.

“He'll need one o' his arms, lads,” Liam said to the two burly dock workers who held Jimmy in his chair. An eyebrow cocked, Liam appraised his captive with a cool stare. “Which one, Jimmy? You right-handed or left-handed? Or d'ya even know?”

Behind his gag, Jimmy expelled a string of irate sounds.

“What was that?” Liam asked, his brow furrowed in fraudulent confusion. “Didn't catch it.”

He made a flippant motion, and one of the dock workers yanked the handkerchief from Jimmy's mouth.

Jimmy coughed and gagged, his eyes narrowed at Liam in a comical attempt at derision. “I'm right-handed! And go fuck yo'self!”

“Just 'cause it's the hand ya use to jerk off don't mean it's the hand ya use to write,” Ransom remarked. “And your penmanship's worse than mine! Sure ya ain't s'posed to be left-handed?”

“You can go fuck yo'self, too! Bloody prick!” Jimmy shouted.

“Enough,” Liam said, his voice low and dangerous. “One more outburst, and ya might be leavin' this room without all your teeth.”

Jimmy glowered at Liam with every ounce of poison he possessed. “Bring Rose back!” he demanded.

“No,” Liam refused with a firm shake of his head. “Miss Appelbaum stays where she is. Ya haven't yet signed over your father's assets to me.”

“I ain't signin' nothin'!”

“Yes, you are,” Liam stated. He fixed Jimmy with a stare that could wilt lilies. “You'll sign. Otherwise, I'll burn down Gallagher Automotive Factory, make it look like you did it, and fuck your lady-friend on the ashes.”

Jimmy's eyes widened, then narrowed. He seemed to be wading through a great conflict of the mind. When at last he responded, his voice was an angry hiss. “You wouldn't dare.”

“Wouldn't dare?” Liam repeated. He sniffed in amusement. “Sure about that? Ya don't sound sure.”

“Not sure at all,” Ransom offered.

“Sounds bloody scared to me,” Jackson piled on.

“I ain't scared!” Jimmy spat, but his voice came out strained.

“Nah, I don't believe ya,” Liam informed him. Removing his fedora, he set it on the desktop and sat down in the chair opposite Jimmy. “You are scared. And ya should be. We've got ya out-smarted, out-maneuvered, out-numbered, and we've only just met, you and I, but I know you've heard things about me. They're true. All of 'em. I will fuck up your whole life, Jimmy. And I'll smile while I do it. Or…” Liam paused in his speech to reach into the leather bag that had contained the deeds and documents. From its depths, he pulled two large stacks of cash and set them on the surface of the desk, just beyond Jimmy's reach. “Or, you can take this money, let me boys sneak ya outta Manchester, and continue livin' your life. Your choice.”

Jimmy eyed the pile of pound notes with a wary eye and a conflicted frown.

As a heightened incentive, Liam slowly rippled the edges of the notes for Jimmy's benefit. “This is ten thousand bloody pounds. Plus safe passage out of Manchester. Your father's boot permanently off your neck. All yours, for a few signatures.” He raised his eyebrows in expectation. “What's it gonna be?”

The Adam's apple in Jimmy's throat bobbed as he swallowed. He still glared daggers into Liam, but those daggers' points had dulled. “Give me a fuckin' pen,” he muttered.

“Smart lad,” Liam said.

Jimmy was supplied with a pen and given the use of his right hand, though his captors continued to hold him in his chair.

With a growing sense of satisfaction and relief, Liam watched as Jimmy made his way through the pile of Gallagher's documents. Soon, each and every deed and title had been signed over to William Mercer.

“Well done,” Liam praised his captive. He retrieved the papers, arranged them into tidy stacks, and returned them to their appropriate folders. “Much obliged.”

“Now bring Rose back,” Jimmy demanded. He let out a little yelp as his right arm was restrained once more.

“No,” Liam declined with a curt shake of his head. “Your lady-friend stays with me. Call it insurance. Don't worry, I'll make sure she gets home safe. After I'm done with her.”

Jimmy sputtered in indignation. “But you said if I signed—!”

“I told ya what I'd do if ya didn't sign. Never mentioned what I'd do if ya did,” Liam interrupted. “Your father's factory is safe, for now. But as far as you and your lady-friend are concerned—”

“Rose! Her name is Rose!”

“Aye. Rose. 'Sfar as you and Rose are concerned, well…” He sniffed, his lips curling up in half a smirk. “I reckon, come sun up, she's not even gonna remember your name.”

“Fucker!” Jimmy exploded. “You dirty, lyin', son of a—!”

The verbal assault came to an abrupt end as the handkerchief was stuffed back into Jimmy's mouth.

“I hear one more word outta you, and you'll be leavin' Manchester without that ten thousand pounds,” Liam said, pointing his finger directly in Jimmy's face. He glanced over at Mickey. “I'd keep him gagged until ya get on the boat, if I were you.”

“Aye. Good call, Liam,” Mickey agreed. “We'll do that.”

【♖】

Outside, seated in William's motor car, Rose waited in silence. Trepidation grew and festered in her stomach, and she took slow, deep breaths to calm herself. The passage of time had been minimal, considering. It was a large stack of documents, and of course Jimmy would argue until he ran out of words. Nothing to worry about.

Still, her anxiety bubbled.

“Doin' alright, Rose?” Elijah asked in hushed tones from his post next to the vehicle.

“Fine. Yes,” she replied. “Just ready for this to be over.”

He nodded. “Hope I didn't hurt ya. When I grabbed ya earlier, I mean.”

“No, not at all. And bravo. You were very convincing.”

“So were you,” he said, turning toward the car and smiling at her through the open window. “Shoulda been an actress. You're pretty enough, alright.”

Rose covered her mouth to disguise a little titter. “Ever the charmer.”

“Oi!” Crispin hissed, joining Elijah. “They're comin' out. I see 'em!”

Rose glanced over at the service entrance of the hotel. A large mass of men emerged, led by William. As she watched, the mass split in two.

Mickey Sullivan broke off from the group, heading for the lane behind the hotel. Jimmy, still held captive by the two burly men in gray coveralls, was escorted after him.

William, carrying the large leather bag he'd had in the hotel room, approached the row of vehicles, followed by Ransom, Jackson, and Archie.

“Our precious cargo alright?” William asked Elijah.

“Right as rain,” Elijah replied, tossing a grin over his shoulder at Rose.

“Good.” William dropped his gaze and gave Rose a quick smile.

“Jimmy headin' out of town?” Crispin snickered. “On holiday, is he?”

“Aye,” William confirmed. “We won't be seein' him again. He knows better than to come back.”

“Don't know what reason he's got to bitch and moan!” Archie declared. “You just gave him ten thousand quid!”

“Think we shoulda told him we found that ten thousand in the back of his father's safe?” Jackson asked, sporting a cheeky grin.

The men all shared a knowing chuckle.

“Nah,” Ransom said. “The fact that he thinks it's a gift from Liam rather than somethin' we stole from his da'...well, it's kinda poetic.”

“That it is,” William agreed. He handed the leather bag to Ransom. “Take this straight to Mr. Grady. No stops. Alright? I'm payin' him double time to notarize these documents tonight. He's expectin' ya.”

“I got it, Liam,” Ransom said. “On my way. C'mon, Jack.”

“Drive safe,” William instructed.

“Safe as houses,” Jackson promised. He tapped the roof of William's car and smiled down at Rose where she sat in the front seat. “Sincerest apologies for ruining your date, Rose. And for my vulgar comments.”

“Your verbiage was a bit perverse, but it certainly had the desired effect,” Rose teased. “And, to be frank, I'd take you over Jimmy any day. Apology accepted.”

“Heh,” Jackson chuckled, turning back to his brother. “She's a keeper, Liam.”

“Get on with ya,” William said in dismissal. He made a shooing motion with his hand.

Ransom and Jackson tipped their hats in parting, and Rose gave them a discreet wave. With Jimmy gone, there was really no reason to keep up the ruse, but fret still danced in her stomach. She wanted nothing more than to return to Warwick Hall and put this whole exhausting ordeal behind her.

After Elijah, Crispin, and Archie had announced they were headed to the pub and bid Rose adieu, William climbed into the driver's seat and started the engine. He maneuvered the car onto the dark, empty street, a look of relief on his habitually stoic face.

Rose stared at him in the semi-darkness. “Is it really over?” she asked.

“It's over,” William replied, his tone obstinate.

“The plan was a success?”

William glanced at her. “Jimmy signed all of his father's assets over to me,” he said. "Ransom's takin' them to get notarized as we speak. To Gallagher, it'll look like Jimmy raided his safe and took the contents outta revenge, and when he finds out Jimmy skipped town, it will confirm what he already suspects. He'll assume Jimmy took you with him.” William reached over and squeezed Rose's hand. “The plan was a success. Trust me, love. James Gallagher will never know the truth.”

Rose sighed in solace and slumped back against the seat, her hand still clasped in William's. “Thank heaven,” she murmured.

“You're free, Rose,” William told her. “Free and safe.”

【♖】

Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.

Kitty had always hated that proverb. It made women in general come across as petty. Easily manipulated by the whims of men. Puppets on strings. And perhaps she was being petty. But perhaps she wasn't.

The conversation she'd overheard in Liam's office the night of the family meeting (the meeting to which she had not been invited) had shaken Kitty to her core. That plan was pure madness, and it was going to get Liam killed. Clearly, Rose had come up with it.

The truth, as far as Kitty could see it, was that Rose Sinclair was poison to their lives. Kitty's life, Liam's life, and the lives of everyone close to them. And like the poison from a snake bite, she needed to be sucked and spat out.

Kitty stared across the street at the rowdy pub. A constant flow of jovial men came and went through the front entrance: a set of oversized double doors directly beneath the garish sign that read ‘The Lion's Den.’

I'm doing this for you, Liam, she thought. You'll thank me one day.

With a deep breath of resolve, Kitty tossed her head, jutted her chin, and marched across the street.

As she entered Gallagher's pub, she received a few brief, odd looks. And of course she did: like so many pubs in England, unaccompanied women were not welcomed or served. But Kitty wasn't here for a drink, and she was acutely aware of the fact that the patrons of The Lion's Den knew precisely who she was and who she worked for. They wouldn't dare hinder her.

“Kitty Ross, innit?” asked a stout man in factory coveralls. “Ya lost, love? I reckon ya don't belong on this side o' town.”

“I'm not lost, no,” Kitty answered in her most haughty voice. “I'm right where I mean to be. Heard James Gallagher himself was here tonight. I fancy a chat with him.”

The stout man saddled her with a look of unabashed incredulity. Shaking his bulbous head, he jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “Best o' luck to ya, then. You'll find him at the bar. In the corner.”

Kitty gave the man a tight smile, and as she continued on her way through the pub, the patrons cleared a path before her. Whether out of respect for her dauntless behavior or out of fear that they'd become infected with loyalty for the Mercers, she didn't know. Nor did she care. There was only one objective tonight. One goal.

At the bar, a tall, lean man perched on the stool closest to the wall, his posture somehow both rigid and relaxed. Kitty had never spoken to James Gallagher, but she knew him at a glance. Even staring at his profile, she could see that his features were sharp and his visage serpentine. He took a slow pull from his glass, the contents of which appeared to be Scotch whiskey.

“Katrina Isabel Ross,” Gallagher said without sparing her a glance. “Long way from home, aren't ya, love?”

“Was no accident. I came here to talk to you,” she replied, her voice matter-of-fact. Inwardly, she praised herself for sounding so steady as she spoke. Her knees wobbled in apprehension, and an anxious, invisible fist had begun to knead her stomach.

Gallagher turned his head and took in her appearance with his shrewd, frigid eyes. “Ya got a backbone o' steel, comin' in here. I'll say that for ya,” he remarked. His shoulder twitched in what Kitty took to be a shrug. “Have a seat.”

Kitty sat on the barstool next to him, her expression as neutral as she could manage. “Kind o' ya.”

“Well, got me curious, I s'pose,” Gallagher said. He shrugged again. “Why would you seek me out? What business could ya possibly have with me? Seein' as ya work for William Mercer, an' all.”

Kitty swallowed against the bile that wanted to rise in her throat. This was it. Gallagher was humoring her for the moment to sate his intrigue, but it wouldn't last. He could lose interest at any moment. Then she'd be fucked. It was now or never.

“Yes, I do work for William Mercer,” she said. The pounding of her heart almost drowned out the sound of her own voice, but she gave him a pointed stare and plunged on. “And so does your secretary.”

【♜】【♞】【♟】

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