Clay picked up his fists and continued smacking the heavy bag hanging from the ceiling. Jab, punch, hook, repeat. Sweat poured off his forehead, down his bare chest. His lungs struggled to pull in air but he kept going.

The casino was half-full tonight. A decent crowd, from his early calculations. The plans for the east side casino had been to his liking, which meant the architect would file them with the city to get the permits. Things were moving forward. Thriving.

Still, he felt restless. Unsettled. He knew why; he just didn’t want to admit it. But the truth kept staring him in the face.

She hadn’t returned in two days. He told himself it was for the best, but he couldn’t help thinking about her. Wondering what she was doing. Probably attending some fancy dinner party where a young buck groped her thigh under the table.

He hit the bag so hard pain radiated up his arm and into his shoulder.

No doubt she fended off suitors everywhere she went. A woman like her, beautiful and vivacious, would attract attention at every turn. I am not innocent. Christ, why would she tell a man like him such information?

“Here you are.”

Anna strolled into the cellar, her skirts rustling as her heels clacked on the hard floor. How had he missed her coming down the stairs?

She’s got you distracted. Get your head right, Madden.

“I’m busy.”

“Sorry to interrupt, but I had to see you right away. Jack told me I could find you here.”

He wrapped his arms around the heavy bag and leaned against it, his chest bellowing to bring in enough air. “Oh?”

Anna perched on top of a wooden crate. “Do you remember Charity? William Coogan, from the police commission, is a regular of hers.”

Ah, one of the few commissioners not on Clay’s payroll—but only because Coogan was already on Mulligan’s payroll. Mulligan ran everything in town that Clay didn’t. “I know him.”

“He told Charity tonight that the Bronze House would soon have a new owner.”

Clay made an exasperated noise. “That’s ridiculous.”

“You aren’t selling, are you?”

“If I intended to sell, don’t you think you’d know about it?”

She studied his expression. “I’m not certain. You’ve never kept secrets from me, but there’s a first time for everything, I suppose.”

“You have my word that I would tell you, Anna.”

“All right, you’re not selling the Bronze House. So do you have a clue what this is about?”

He bent and grabbed the cloth he’d placed on the ground earlier. He used it to wipe the sweat off his face. “I might.”

She waited a beat then rolled her eyes. “And?”

“Big Bill is a prick. Nothing I can’t handle, though.”

“I see.” She glanced down for a long moment. “Should I be worried?”