Chapter Twenty-Four

Cat’s heart beat up in her throat as she heard the heavy footsteps pause outside her door, and she fixed her gaze on the latch, watching to see if it would turn. She wished she had a weapon, but the only thing to hand was the wooden coat rack in the corner. She snatched it up and hoisted it over her head.

“Miss Delaney? ’Tis myself, Michael Murphy.”

The air left Cat’s lungs in a rush. She lowered the coat rack with a bang and opened the door.

Tate Murphy stood there looking overly large in the confined space. His gaze fell on the coat rack, and one corner of his wide mouth twitched.

“Never say you were going to try and club me with that?”

“If I had to.”

“A fine state of affairs. My sister meets me downstairs with a butcher knife and you with a great length of wood.”

“Not you, Mr. Murphy so much as…whomever else. Boyd’s sent men looking for me door to door, armed with a picture.”

“So I hear.”

“What am I going to do? Where’s Jamie, do you know?”

“I do not. Off about some business, I’ll be bound. For now, I want you to come away with me. I don’t believe ’tis safe here for you anymore.”

“Oh.” Cat’s heart sank. She hated this tiny room, yet she would miss Roselyn’s house.

“I will take you back to my place on Niagara for now. James will come back there when he’s done with his business, and we’ll tell him what’s happened. All right? Best get your things.”

“I don’t have much.”

Roselyn met them at the bottom of the stairs. Cat felt ridiculous tears come to her eyes.

“Miss Murphy, thank you for everything. If I can ever repay you in any way, you’ve only to tell me.”

“No need for thanks. You pulled your weight, and no mistake. Come back and see us when you can.”

Cat nodded and waved at Dottie, who hovered in the doorway of the kitchen.

“I’ve a steamcab waiting out front. I want you to hop inside quick, and we’ll drive around the city for a while, lose any tail we might have. I’ll not lead the hounds back to my own den,” Tate said.

Cat cast one look back at Roselyn before ducking out and had to choke back foolish emotion. Tate Murphy planted a large hand on her head and urged her into the vehicle. The steamcab moved off with a rush and a belch of vapor.

“I am sorry to cause so much trouble,” Cat told Murphy miserably.

“Not your fault, is it? Men like Boyd need to find out they don’t rule the world and can’t buy and sell people like cattle. I knew men enough like him back in Ireland—thought they could have anyone, ruin anyone.” He stopped speaking abruptly. Cat wondered if there had been a woman in Ireland, someone he’d lost and never forgotten.

Softly, she asked, “Have you had any word from Toronto? Do you know if Boyd has gone after my family?”

“My man sent a message; he’s on his way back.” Tate hesitated. “Says the news isn’t good.”

“My sister, Becky?”

“That’s all I know as yet, lass.”

“If Boyd takes this out on her, I’ll never forgive myself. I should have stuck to my plan and stayed with him.”

“And done what? Let him pass you around among his cronies? ’Tisn’t decent, that.”

“Better me than Becky.”

“You’re a brave lass. I admire that. But I’ll be needing to ask you before we get back to my office—what are your feelings toward James? He’s dear as a brother to me, you understand, and a good man to the heart. He’s had a weight of trouble to bear ever since I’ve known him, and I wouldn’t want to stand by and let him run headlong into still more.”

“I understand. Neither would I.”

“Good then, if you don’t mind me saying: I saw the two of you back in my sister’s kitchen, and I have to admit I was surprised. Most women are that put off by his appearance they refuse to get close to him.”

Cat gave Tate a look. “I’m not most women.”

“Clearly. But I wouldn’t like to think you’re toying with the lad, because, see, he’s the type who gives his heart completely.”

“Do I look like the sort to toy with anyone?”

“I don’t know, do I? High society woman from wealthy Toronto, and him a working stiff.”

“I assure you, Mr. Murphy, I am not toying with James Kilter.”

“Aye, because I’ve been thinking about this pretty much nonstop since the other evening, and I’d be happy to pay your way out of the city.”

“To get rid of me, you mean?”

“No, to help you. To help both of you.”

“Mr. Murphy, the only way I’m leaving this city is if James Kilter comes with me.”

“Well, then.”

“You needn’t look so gob-smacked.”

“I’ve never heard anyone speak that way about our James before.”

“It just proves,” she told him, “you encounter something new every day.”

****

“What’s this, then? Another stray?” The man who spoke had a short stature, a large nose, and hair so brightly yellow Cat wondered if he bleached it. “You gonna put this one out back with the dogs, Tate?”

“Lad’s here as part of a job, Drappot, and you know what that means—not a word to anyone. It’s worth your job, understand?”

“Hiding him from somebody, are you?” Drappot’s brown eyes examined Cat slowly and she wondered if he would guess her sex.

“Something like that. Why aren’t you out on assignment? I thought you were playing bodyguard to Mr. Taylor.”

“He had a doctor’s appointment and gave me a few hours off. I’ll be headed out soon.” To Cat he said, “You got a name, kid?”

“Albert.”

“Well, Al, try not to be too scared of the local boogey man. He’ll give you nightmares if you stare at him too long. And make sure he don’t take you out back and feed you to his dogs, especially that wild one. Damn bitch barks all night.”

Tate shot a look at Cat and correctly assessed her rising temperature. “You’ll be on assignment tonight, Drappot, and won’t hear the dogs or anything else. Come on, lad. I’ll show you where you can sleep.”

“Why, that insolent weasel,” Cat said as soon as they were out of earshot. “What’s Jamie ever done to him?”

“Oil and water, those two. The quarrel’s been going on as long as I can remember.”

“Truly, Mr. Murphy? I should consider firing that toad, if I were you.”

“Man’s good enough at his job, and James has grown a pretty thick skin. Sorry, this room’s worse than the one you had at Roselyn’s, but you should be safe here. You can wander about the building and out into the yard, but I don’t want you to leave the premises. As soon as I talk to our man from Toronto, I’ll let you know. Just don’t show your face, understand?”

“Yes. Where are the facilities?”

“The what?”

“Outhouse or water closet?”

“Christ, I didn’t think of that. We men all use one bog, and that’ll never do for you. Not fit for you to set foot in. For now, use the commode under the cot there. I’ll think of something.”

“And you’ll tell me when Jamie arrives?”

Wild barking erupted behind the building.

“No need,” Tate said. “He’s just arrived; the dogs always know he’s here; don’t ask me how.”

Tate led Cat back down through the warehouse and out into the small, scrappy yard which contained a number of metal kennels. James stood in front of the first on the left while all the other dogs, save one, clamored for his attention.

Cat knew just how they felt. She wanted his attention too, and his big hand touching her. She shivered with the sudden onset of desire.

“Remember, now,” Tate told her in an undertone, “you’re a lad, and there are eyes all around.”

James spun when he heard Tate’s voice, and his eyes lit at the sight of Cat.

“I’ve brought young Albert here for safekeeping,” Tate said quickly. “There’ve been a few developments, none for the good. Come in my office, and I’ll explain everything.”

****

Hours later Cat lay, sleepless, in still another sweltering room, this time under a metal roof that clanged and banged beneath a driving rainstorm. She didn’t know how anyone could possibly attain slumber in such a racket.

Lightning flashed outside her window and thunder rumbled so close above the tin roof it made her cringe.

Her thoughts ran like a train, relentless and unstoppable. Jamie Kilter had walked her to her room a short time ago and said, as if to reassure her, “No need to be frightened. I’m right next door, so call me if you need me.”

She needed him. Oh, she did! Her flesh quivered with need, and her imagination played fantastical scenes in her head: the two of them closed away together here or next door, anywhere. His hands touching her, his lips claiming her; the taste and scent of him filling her.

Thunder rumbled again, and she groaned softly. Then she slipped from the cot and, on bare feet, went to the door. Fumbling with the strange latch, she swung it open.

Darkness and a stifling corridor. How many of Tate Murphy’s workers lived here? Lightning flashed again, and she saw a row of doors. Should one of them open unexpectedly and the inhabitant catch her standing in her underwear, it would be more than obvious she was no lad.

She’d better move quickly and get out of the hallway.

Jamie’s door, like all the others, stood shut. Two steps took her to it, and she scratched cautiously.

No reply. Did he sleep? Surely not; perhaps he couldn’t hear her above the rain. She tapped, and that went unanswered also, so she turned his latch and leaned in.

“Jamie?”

He moved at once, as if he’d been awake and listening for her after all. The room, dark as the pit of hell, didn’t let her see, but she heard him.

“What is it? What’s wrong?”

“I’m scared. Can I stay with you the rest of the night?”

Dead silence met her request. Cat ignored it, stepped in, and closed the door behind her.