Searching for Home (Spies of Chicago Book 1) (18 page)

A stiff wind tossed rancid air down the alley. Ellen gaged, and James clapped his hand over her mouth, but too late. Lewis’s back went rigid and his head turned by the slightest degree. A hollow throb filled James’s chest as Lewis seemed to look him dead in the eye. But then his friend’s shoulders relaxed. Lewis negotiated three steps away from them.

“Mr. Ingram.” The swarthy man removed his hat and wound it around in his hands. “We captured your sister tonight.”

Ellen dug her nails into James’s hand. He gritted the pain without shrugging her off.

Lewis propped his back against the opposite wall and his foot against the building so that he stood with one bent knee. “Did you, now? What reason did she give for being in this part of the city at this time of night?”

“She claimed to attend the revival.”

A laugh that could only be described as wicked pierced the air. Lewis dropped a hand to his knee. “The revival? That’s ripe.” He flicked his cigarette to the ground, crushing it under the toe of his shoe. “And what did you do with the little trouble-maker?”

“She”—the man suddenly became engrossed in looking at the ground—“escaped. She got away from that new man you brought on today. We figured he didn’t need to attend the meeting, and it’d be easy enough to watch a tied-up female.”

Lewis straightened. “Yet she slipped away in a tavern crawling with anarchists? You’ve got to admit the girl’s got moxie.”

After expelling a long stream of black spit, the one man who had yet to talk spoke. “And we can’t find the man you sent anywhere, either.”

“Of course you can’t find him. He knows darn well he’d face a penance ten times worse than a priest would stack him with. Believe me—he’s not worth searching for. With a blunder like that, he’s halfway to the Wisconsin border by now.” He picked a piece of lint from his sleeve. “Besides, a man that incapable is of no use to us. Good thing we saw his stripes before our plans began.”

“But, Mr. Ingram, should your sister be caught spying again—”

Lewis raked his fingers through his devil-may-care hair. “Then save her for me. At my hands, she’ll face a punishment worse than the rest of you could ever cook up. That I can guarantee.” He clapped his hands. “Now come, comrades. If the preacher is gone, I’ll buy you a round of the tavern’s best to celebrate our next step closer to revolution.”

The troop of men snaked back into The Rat Palace. James loosened his hold on Ellen until he realized she was shaking uncontrollably, then he hugged her close again. Her teeth rattled.

He smoothed a hand over her hair. “Shh. Half-pint. I need your brave face. We’re not safe yet.”

When she turned to study him, her eyes were wide. “Did I really hear that? Is Lewis evil? I don’t want to believe it, but after … after what he said, I can’t deny the truth any longer.”

James rose and pulled her to her feet. “We need to get out of here before they come back out of there under the encouragement of liquor.”

She nodded and stumbled beside him as he set a fast clip. They rounded down the vice district. “James, please slow down. My ankle aches.”

Now that the immediate danger abated, his original anger overtook his fear. He spun around and grabbed her shoulders. “What were you doing here tonight?”

She looked down, eyes hooded.

“Answer me.” He set her back inches from his face. “Why are you here?” A thought made one last rush of fear ripple down his spine. “Did they snatch you from your bedroom?”

She looked up through tear-filled eyes and shook her head.

“How did you know to come here tonight?” He gripped her upper arms.

A group of rowdy men surged out of a building. They stumbled as they walked, singing a vulgar song out of tune. One of them fell. His friend tried to assist him to his feet, but ended up on the ground as well. The men were inebriated, but not dangerous.

With an unflattering sniffle, Ellen’s chin lifted. “I followed you.”

“Impossible.” James clenched his teeth.

That afternoon Hugh had been kind enough to point out that—so far—James hadn’t proven to be the best spy. The stern Englishman questioned his decision to allow James to join the Cygnus Brotherhood. James argued, but maybe, just like with everything else he attempted, he was terrible at spying too. If Ellen had trailed him all the way across town without his notice, well, he might as well turn in his resignation to Hugh tonight, or this morning—the new day had already dawned.

She prattled on. “You took three cable cars, then walked through a poor section, over a bridge, and into the seedy part of town. You weren’t hard to trail.”

If ever he wanted to swear, right that moment would have been the precise time. “They caught you snooping in The Rat Palace then, did they?”

She straightened, standing an inch taller. “They apprehended me in the alley. But I got away. It wasn’t difficult.”

James tossed his hands in the air. “Do you hear yourself? Blasted Ellen, wake up. They kidnapped you and could have done worse. When you dropped out of that window, I was busy trying to think of a way to rescue you.”

She slammed her hands onto her hips. “Well, I didn’t need you, now did I?”

The desire to shake her again raged war with a longing to pull her into his arms. So far the shaking bit hadn’t seemed to rattle any sense into her brain. Scooping her up and locking her in some secret chamber would most likely be the best plan of action but his freckled minx would no doubt find a way to slip through the walls like some otherworldly spirit.

James turned and started walking again. Ellen limped after him.

After three deep breaths to quell his voice and anger, he spoke again. “Why did you follow me?”

She didn’t answer, which was fine for the moment, because anything she said would only fuel his fury.

As they crossed the river, he held his breath.

“James.” She teetered. “My foot hurts so much.”

A gentleman would offer to carry her, but right now Ellen needed a tough lesson more than a white knight. He had to make her hate him. It was the only way to protect her in the future.

He turned his head as she winced along. What sort of monster had he become?

But if it kept her safe from harm and mistreatment, he’d do what he had to. Her pain would serve as a reminder not to tag along next time.

They entered the poorest neighborhood, often referred to as Behind the Yards because the people lived right behind the stockyards and holding pens for thousands of pigs and cattle awaiting slaughter. The earthy smell of animal hide and manure hung thick in the air.

Ellen rubbed her hands over her arms as she walked. Without thinking, James slipped out of his coat and placed it over her shoulders.

“These people,” she began in a whisper. “Their lives are bad.”

Bad
didn’t begin to describe the existence he’d witnessed here today. The words
horrible
,
unfair
, and
miserable
hit closer to the truth. As a boy growing up in the country, he’d heard about poverty, but he’d never looked into the vacant eyes of a hungry child. Not until this evening.

Their images would haunt him.

“James, please.” She stopped. “Can we hire a cab? I’m so tired.”

“Sorry, Ellen.” He shook his head. “Not in this part of town.”

Her face deflated like a child who’d been told Santa Claus didn’t exist.

James wracked his brain. He could offer her some sort of encouragement. “We’ve got another mile or so before it’ll be safe enough to flag one down.”

He motioned for her to continue.

She hobbled a bit; then her bare hand slid against his. “Please, it’s so dark. Can I at least hold your hand?”

The soft meekness in her voice undid him.

He groaned. “Oh, Ellen.” In a swift movement, he turned and lifted her into his arms.

“You don’t have to carry me. You’ve had a long night, too.” Even as she said the words, she snaked an arm around his neck, rested her head against his shoulder, and closed her eyes.

“Try and sleep, half-pint.”

Try and fall asleep? Ellen smiled despite the situation. With James’s heart beating against her ribcage as he carried her, even on the longest day of her life, sleep would never be an option.

But she closed her eyes to please him, or at the least to abate the anger rolling off him in hot waves. James would have to get over his ire. By morning he would.

Years ago she’d doodled all over the pages of his copy of
Ben-Hur,
including a giant stick-figure driving a chariot across one of the more exciting scenes. In her eleven year old exuberance, she’d pressed hard enough to crack the book’s spine. If that wasn’t bad enough, Ellen had started fixing the
Hurs
to
Hers
. When James came upon her and snatched his possession out of her hands, she’d argued that a book that had spiraling flowers decorating the cloth cover just had to be about a girl character. He’d turned red and started shaking. James didn’t speak to her for two days, but after an offering of Cook’s snickerdoodles, he’d helped her build a ship out of branches to float down the DuPage River.

Maybe Aunt Louisa’s cook knew how to make snickerdoodles.

When they reached the first signs of the business district, James waved down a cab and hired the man to drive them to the north end of the city where her aunt and uncle lived. He settled her on the bench, then took a seat with a long sigh.

The driver grunted, and his team of unmatched nags plodded forward.

After a moment, Ellen broke the night’s stillness with a whisper. “I can’t believe Lewis would have hurt me.”

James crossed and uncrossed his arms. “Do you now understand the danger? You could have been seriously hurt tonight because of following me. You can’t do foolish things like that anymore. You need to use that brain the good Lord’s given you.” James ran a hand through his dark blond hair. “In fact, we shouldn’t even be friends any longer. They would hurt you to get to me.”

Ellen reached across the space between them, resting her hand on his forearm. “But I wanted to be with you, James. I wanted to see what you were doing. I’ll always follow you.”

In an uncharacteristically James move he brushed her hand away. “Well, I don’t want you around me anymore.” He turned to look out the window. His jaw muscle flexed.

Tired and sore body forgotten, Ellen snapped to attention. James not want her? Inconceivable. “You’re angry. Sleep on it.”

“I’m serious.” James stared at the ceiling.

She inched forward on her seat, knees pressing against his. “But what about the other day? Remember … you kissed me.”

With a pained slowness he faced her, a hollow look in his green eyes. “Move on, Ellen. It was all a big mistake.”

Blurriness framed her sight and Ellen’s pulse echoed in her ears. “You don’t mean that.”

James inched away from her. “I do. Very much so.”

“No.” She scooted across the carriage to his bench. When she reached for him, he jumped from her touch like it might burn him. Tears came then. “When they had me tied up in that room, I couldn’t stop thinking about you. You’re the man I want to be with for the rest of my life.”

Closing his eyes, James scrubbed his hand over his face. “It’s not possible.”

“But you love me. I know you do.”

He shook his head. “I don’t want you.”

As the carriage swayed like a raft lost at sea the sights shifted from storefronts to modest homes. In less than ten minutes, they’d enter her aunt’s neighborhood. Lavish townhomes would clutter the view. A slight wind outside barely rustled the new spring leaves on the young trees.

An ache started under her ribs and spread outward, making her brain numb. But of course James had to be bluffing, right?

The old jealousy test would do the trick. “I’m seeing Carter Hurst tomorrow.”

“Good.”

Still wearing James’s jacket, she drew it tightly around her. The comforting spice-and-oranges smell of James flooded her senses. “You don’t care if he pursues me?”

“Not one bit.” His voice sounded stale. “In fact, I promise to buy you a large wedding present.”

His words were so flippant, so un-James-like.

Ellen fisted her hands. “After Grace died, Lewis wanted nothing to do with me, and now that Lewis is out of the equation, you want nothing to do with me, either. Is that how it is?”

“Let it go, Ellen.”

“But—”

“I’m done talking.” James flipped his collar up as if to protect against a chill. Then he hunkered into the seat and closed his eyes.

Fighting the urge to open the door and run away, Ellen crossed her arms. Doing so would keep her from slugging James, too—which every muscle in her fists burned to do.

Oh, why did the Danbys live so far away? Sitting beside James proved to be torture. She wanted to get to her room, hug her pillow, and have a nice long cry. That, and sort out what to do with her life now. Hadn’t she been dreaming of a future with James only an hour ago? Now she didn’t know.

She bit her lip. No one she loved wanted her.

Not a single one of them.

Not her mother, Lewis, the Danbys, or James. If only she’d been more agreeable, meeker, and followed Madame De Molineus’s instructions during her school days instead of reading dime novels hidden behind her textbooks in class.

Would they love her now if she’d obeyed all the rules? Would they want her if she’d formed herself into a copy of every other girl her age?

Too late. Someone should have told her that being herself would drive her family away and would rob her of the only man she’d ever love.

At least with Carter Hurst she would know not to make the same mistakes. She’d be the person society dictated she should be. Then James would see who she could have been, who he could have had. And he’d be sorry.

Ellen jiggled her foot and braced herself when the carriage swayed as the driver took a corner at a fast clip. It seemed even he wanted to be rid of her in a hurry.

Perhaps she never really cared about James. Not really. He’d always been more brooding older brother than gentle romancer. He certainly wasn’t like the heroes in the dime novels. Maybe he was simply a good kisser. And, oh, the man could kiss. The thought of their one stolen moment made heat crawl up the back of her neck.