“I always am,” Florence said and slipped out the opposite end of the portrait gallery, through the door to the dining room.

One way or another, she would have answers today.

Chapter Twenty-Two

The midday routine inside the Bronze House screeched to a halt when Clay walked in the next day. He’d been gone all night, cooped up in a cell at police headquarters.

“Jesus.” Jack slammed down the crate of bottles he’d been carrying. “What the hell happened to you?”

Clay ignored his friend and turned to the nearest employee. “May I trouble you to fetch me some coffee, please? And whatever Cook has on hand to eat.”

The girl nodded and hurried away, leaving Clay to gingerly lower himself into a wooden chair. Every part of his body ached. Not only from Bill’s ham-handed fists but also from trying to get comfortable in a tiny cell for hours on end. He hadn’t managed any sleep during his incarceration. And, despite repeated requests, he hadn’t been allowed to phone his lawyers until daybreak.

He was starving and exhausted. Worse, a Florence-less future stretched out in front of him like a gauntlet of sharp metal spikes pressing into his skin at every turn. Painful, exhausting torture. It was too depressing to contemplate.

Jack dropped into the seat opposite. “I thought you were with your lady friend.”

“I was in jail.”

Jack’s mouth fell open, his forehead wrinkled in disbelief. “You were arrested? What for?”

“Officially, assaulting a police officer and resisting arrest.”

“Unofficially?”

“Trying to beat the shit out of Bill.”

“Can’t say I’m surprised. No doubt he deserved it. How’d he get the drop on you to arrest you, though?”

“Punched me in the throat.”

Jack shook his head and grimaced. “You always were terrible at protecting your head and neck.”

Of course Jack would say that. He’d been one of the country’s best boxers for years. “Well, feel free to give me boxing lessons, but let me catch up on my sleep first.”

“Want to tell me what happened?”

Clay proceeded to tell Jack the entire night, from the moment he and Florence had exited the Hoffman House saloon to this morning. “And they wouldn’t let me notify my lawyers until daybreak. Otherwise, I would’ve been released a lot sooner.”

The girl returned with a cup and saucer, along with some food, which she set on the table in front of Clay. “There you are, sir.”

“Thank you, Pippa,” Jack said before Clay could respond. “Would you mind giving us the room?”

She left and the other employees followed suit. When they were alone, Jack asked, “So Greene knows about you and his daughter. What does that mean for us?”

“Nothing. He’ll tell her to stay away from me and that’ll be that.” He shoved half a roll in his mouth, barely chewing before swallowing.