Mick glanced at Hiram and Dr. Haas. “What about the pair of you? Would you be willing to shell out a dollar for insight into the bottomless well of Blackstone family corruption?”

Dr. Haas still looked puzzled but answered as she hoped. “I suppose.”

Malone clapped his hands and hooted. “Exactly what I wanted to hear,” he roared.

“Shh,” Gwen soothed. If Patrick woke up, he’d come out and end this conversation. “Don’t get ahead of yourself. Tell me what kind of details would be in a second book. I have a keen eye for spotting what would sell.”

“I don’t scatter my gems around for free,” he said. “What’s it worth to you?”

Before she could answer, the sound she dreaded happened. The bedroom door opened, and a bleary-eyed Patrick emerged.

“Mick? What are you doing here?”

Mick stood and took a step toward Patrick, shaking a finger. “We had a meeting this morning, and you missed it, boy-o.”

Patrick glanced around the room. Dark circles shadowed his eyes, and he looked exhausted but still alert enough to take stock of the situation. He opened his mouth to speak, but she stood and interrupted him.

“Mr. Malone was about to tell me an interesting story. Let him talk.”

“Don’t say anything, Mick.” Patrick took a step forward, blocking her view of the old drunkard. “This is Gwen Kellerman. She was a Blackstone before she got married. William Blackstone was her brother.”

Mick reeled back so quickly he almost toppled over. He let out a stream of curses. “You tried to trick me, woman!”

Gwen glared at Patrick. “You didn’t have to tell him that.”

“Yeah, I did.” Patrick dragged a hand through his disheveled hair. “I’m sorry, Mrs. K, but it’s my job to protect his legal rights.”

Anger rippled through her. After she’d saved his mother’s life, his loyalty to her only enemy in the world was infuriating.

“This is how you pay us back for what we’ve done for you?” she snapped. Patrick flinched and looked away, but she wasn’t in the mood to be kind. “Why couldn’t you have looked the other way while I pried the truth out of him? We all know he’s guilty.” She turned to confront Mick. “You did it, didn’t you?” she accused, stepping closer to him, her palms itching to slap him. “Look me in the face and tell me you had nothing to do with my brother being snatched from his own backyard.”

Mick gathered himself up, chest out, jaw thrust forward. “I didn’t have anything to do with it,” he sneered. “It was the Italians who took that boy, and I paid the price for it. Now you waltz in with your fancy Blackstone manners and act like you own the place. You don’t belong here, missy. This is the Five Points. Go back to your fancy mansions and—”