Clay stood on the balcony, Jack at his side, and watched the familiar throw of the dice, the twirl of the wheel. Men laughed and clapped, champagne and spirits flowing freely. All was normal in the Bronze House tonight, if one didn’t consider the guard clubbed over the head two hours ago.

“He could’ve escaped,” Jack said. The former boxer’s arms were crossed over his chest, anger evident in the heavy set of his shoulders. Clay knew Jack took the security of the Bronze House seriously, and his friend was upset over the breach. “Or not even come inside. He might have attacked Kid and run off.”

Clay didn’t believe it. Random acts of violence were rare in this world. Most violence had a purpose, even if that purpose made sense only to the perpetrator. “Why bother?”

“Scouting the place? Finding out what our security looks like for a break-in later?”

A tactic some criminals employed. “Perhaps. Or he might’ve been doing something in the alley he didn’t want Kid to discover.”

“Doubtful, but that would explain not sticking around.” Jack pounded a fist against the railing and the wood shook with the force of the blow. “I don’t like the not knowing. A thief, he breaks in and we catch him. Someone sneaks onto the floor and we bounce him. The mystery of it doesn’t sit well with me.”

“Me either. But he’s definitely not inside. And no one’s been in or out in two hours.” The dealers had given free chips to anyone wishing to leave during the search. That had kept the patrons happy and occupied while Clay and Jack tore the place apart.

“Do you think it’s related to Bill?”

Clay had considered that, but attacking one of the Bronze House’s employees didn’t seem like Bill’s style. “I’m not ruling it out but unlikely he’d bother. He’d rather come after me, not Kid.”

“True. And everyone here knows him. He wouldn’t be stupid enough to try to hurt you.”

“Not to mention he threatened to tell Duncan about Florence’s visits here. I’d expect that before he attacked the staff.”

“A disgruntled patron, then?”

“We’ve had our fair share of those.” Clay dragged a hand down his face. “I couldn’t point to one that stands out as the culprit, however.”

The sound of boot heels signaled the arrival of a female. Not the one Clay hoped, of course. Florence had been sent home directly after the discovery of Kid Johnny’s injury. And Clay wouldn’t allow her to return until he was certain this attack wasn’t a prelude to more violence. No matter how much he ached for her.

“Did you find whoever hurt Johnny?” Anna asked as she approached.

“No,” Clay said. “We didn’t find anyone inside the building.”