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“How did it go?” she asks, going to the window for a look at Clara. She raises her eyebrow at the flowers. “Did Raleigh give her paint?”
“It’s lipstick, I think. I’m not sure where she got it.”
Iris must hear something I don’t in my voice, because she fixes her sharp dark eyes on me. “What happened at brunch?”
I sit back at my desk and cross my arms. “She didn’t fall for the switch-up, but Russo did. I’ve got him in questioning now.” I almost look at the window again, but keep my eyes on her instead. “I don’t think Clara’s responsible for the fire.”
Iris accepts that without argument. “Then you think she really is running from her uncle.”
I nod, glaring at the wood of my desk.
“... Want me to convince her to talk?”
Iris’s voice is unusually tentative. She’s not squeamish about the necessities of her job, and she never has been. But she was making her way through the ranks of the Warwick family when Clara was in diapers. She probably held her as a little girl. Torturing a young woman she watched grow up is not something she’s had to do before.
“No,” I say, quickly and firmly. All I can see is Clara’s quiet tears. All I can feel is how quickly she melted under my touch when I had her pressed against the wall. I thought she was capable of playing the same mind game I was. I don’t believe that now.
“If you plan to make her disappear-”
“That’s not necessary,” I interrupt, before she has to say something we both think is too heartless.
Iris waits for me to explain, but I don’t know how to explain. By my father’s definition, Clara is superfluous. She isn’t a good hostage, she won’t give intelligence, and she knows too much to set free. But I can’t just keep her here under perpetual house arrest… can I?
“Then what do you plan to do with her?” Iris asks, breaking into my thoughts. “You took her out in public this morning. Even on our territory, word travels fast. Morgan might already know she’s in our custody, and if she’s not here on his orders, he’ll have a bone to pick with you about that.”
“Fuck,” I hiss, and Iris raises both eyebrows. “I was so sure I couldn’t trust her, but she was really on the run, and I just told her uncle exactly where to find her.”
“Definitely not your best move,” Iris agrees mercilessly. “We’ll be hearing from him soon, I imagine-”
The control panel beeps again.
“Mr. Warwick, we had a note delivered to the front gate,” one of my generals, Hammond, says through the speaker. “It looks like it’s from Morgan Speare, asking to meet with you in an hour at Cooper’s.”
Iris and I trade looks. Cooper’s is a seedy little bar in neutral territory, but that doesn’t mean this is a good-faith request.
“I’m coming with you,” Iris tells me. Her eyes narrow a little on me, studying.
“Something on my face?” I ask, standing and gathering my phone.
“Yes.”
When she doesn’t elaborate, I demand, “Well, what?”
“Emotion,” she says flatly, and precedes me out of the room.
CHAPTER 9
Thomas
I haven’t had many opportunities to be face-to-face with Morgan Speare over the last ten years. Every time I have, it’s been a uniquely infuriating experience.
I expect nothing less from him this time, truce or no.
There are few areas of the city that aren’t controlled by either the Warwicks or the Speares, but the old downtown area is one we’ve mutually agreed to let rot in peace. Here, drugged-up street gangs rule their individual blocks and cause trouble for no one but each other and the local sinking pawn shops. I’m not worried about being recognized by them, but I do keep an eye out for anyone I recognize as Morgan’s.
On the corner of Cock Lane and Hackney Street, Cooper’s sits in all its worn red brick glory. One of its front windows has been broken and replaced so many times that it was eventually covered by a piece of cardboard badly painted to look like the rest of the building. Its neon sign has been dark for years, and will probably stay dark until the building is demolished.
Iris wrinkles her nose when she steps out of the car and her heel lands in a puddle of something that is hopefully beer. “One of these days, I’m going to burn this place down,” she muses. “Just so we can’t have meetings here anymore.”
