Chapter One
The Bronze House
Broadway and Thirty-Third Street, 1891
He spotted her immediately, as he always did.
Frank had a preternatural ability to spot Marion “Mamie” Greene in any room, no matter how crowded. She was a beauty, perfectly put together with the most expensive accessories. Tonight, her coppery brown hair was adorned with diamond combs, her evening dress cut indecently low.
Christ, her décolletage was a thing of beauty from this high vantage point.
However, it was her smile that caught his attention. Always her radiant smile. It lit up a room far better than Edison’s incandescent bulbs. Her plump dark red lips were a sharp contrast to her creamy skin and her white teeth gleamed in the gaslight. Just then, she won and started clapping, joy etched on every square inch of her face. She laughed and loved life more than any other woman he’d ever met, drawing attention better than a moth to a flame.
This evening was no exception, it seemed, judging by the crowd surrounding the two Greene sisters. Mamie and her sister were the center attraction tonight from their spot at the roulette table.
Dear God, a roulette table.
As he stared down at the floor of the city’s most luxurious casino, the Bronze House, he lamented the turn his evening had taken. This was not the first time he’d been summoned to a casino or gaming hell to rescue a client—in fact, the request came much more often than he’d like. As attorney to many of the city’s richest, most prominent men, Frank had done any and all manner of things to keep clients out of trouble.
Nothing illegal. Just . . . creative maneuvering.
Frank’s mind did not work in straight lines, black-and-white. No, considering his upbringing and childhood, he’d learned how to plot and scheme. Dodge and weave. Survive. Talents that had made him very rich after school. Very rich indeed.
So he did not mind being summoned to solve a problem and save the day. Especially when he was being paid handsomely for it.
This particular client was different, however. This marked the third rescue in four months—rescues Frank hadn’t confessed to his client.
He’d kept these rescues a secret because they involved the client’s eldest daughter. A daughter who, if Frank were being completely honest, he liked. She was unconcerned with dance cards, matrimonial prospects and other society nonsense. Instead, Mamie spoke her mind and let nothing—and no one—get in her way of accomplishing her goal.
He admired that. In fact, he operated in much the same manner.
However, his interest in her was unhealthy. He was not a “court the uptown Knickerbocker princess” man. He was a “fuck the gorgeous chorus girl until dawn” sort of man. Mamie Greene did not fit into his neatly crafted life, one he’d carved for himself atop buried secrets. It was time to be done with her.
No more bailing her out from seedy establishments. Tonight he would retrieve her and take her home to Duncan Greene, her father, and let him deal with her from now on. Which was exactly what Frank should have done the last two times he’d found her out in the rougher side of town. Instead, her smile and sass had caught him by surprise, charmed him, and he’d believed her when she promised never to return.
All lies.
The reckless female had no idea what disaster she courted by visiting a casino, the dangers that lurked in every corner of the Tenderloin district. Vice and sin reigned here, with corrupt policemen looking the other way. Any number of ills could befall her south of Thirty-Fourth Street.
But he couldn’t keep doing this, no matter the insane desire to watch over her.
“Thank you for your expeditious arrival.”
Frank started at the sound of a voice directly behind him. Turning, he found Clayton Madden, the shadowy owner of the Bronze House, standing there. Appropriate Madden should lurk in the darkness; not many had met the man, as he preferred to keep an inconspicuous presence in the city. Madden stuck out a hand and Frank promptly shook it.
“Of course,” Frank said. “Thank you for alerting me to her presence.”
Madden jerked a chin toward the casino floor. “She brought one of her sisters this time.”
Women were not allowed inside the Bronze House, yet somehow Mamie managed to get inside. “Why did you let them in?” Frank asked, not taking his eyes from her.
“I have my reasons.”
“They could lose a great deal of money. Worse, they could lose their standing in society.”
Madden’s lips quirked. “I assure you, neither of those outcomes concerns me. What does concern me is the crowd they’ve attracted. If men are standing and gawking then they aren’t gambling. It’s one of the many reasons we don’t permit women to play here.”
Frank shot Madden a glance. “Figures you have a financial reason for wanting them removed.”
Madden crossed his arms over his chest. He was about the same height as Frank, a little over six feet, but bulkier. Rougher. A scar ran through his right eyebrow, another on his chin. He wore an impressive black suit with a black vest—his usual attire. “Greene and I don’t exactly see eye to eye. I’ll be damned if his girls win a dime at my club.”
“You could refuse them entry.”
Madden stroked his jaw, staring at the pair below. “I could,” he said cryptically.
Frank didn’t bother to seek more answers. Madden was notoriously tight-lipped and it hardly mattered. The Greene sisters had no business coming here, and Frank was dashed glad Madden had notified him when Mamie arrived. “Well, I’ll collect them now. Greene passes on his thanks.”
“Come now, Tripp. We both know you’re not telling your client about these little outings.”
Frank gritted his teeth and thought about denying it. There was no use lying, however. Madden was right. “That ends tonight. I’m done with favors. He can look after her now.”
Madden chuckled under his breath. “Keep telling yourself as much. By the way, I wish to hire you for a bit of consulting. My lawyers are giving me a hard time on one particular issue, but I’m told you might be able to help.”
Frank nodded. “I have time tomorrow, if that works.”
“That’ll be fine. Come by at four.”
Mamie won another round and threw her arms around her sister as the crowd applauded. Frank gritted his teeth and considered pummeling each man encouraging this outrageous behavior.
Then it happened. In fact, if Frank had blinked he would’ve missed it.
Clever, delicate fingers darted into the inner jacket pocket of a bystander and withdrew a money clip. The stack of greenbacks then disappeared into the folds of Mamie’s evening gown.
Madden whistled softly. “Not bad. Where’d an uptown girl learn to dip like that?”
Jesus Christ. Frank could not believe his eyes. Her father would have a stroke if he knew. “I must get down there—”
“Hold up.” Madden’s hand landed on Frank’s arm. “Dark suit on her left.”
Sure enough, Madden was right. With Mamie’s back turned, the man next to her took the opportunity to pour the contents of a small vial into Mamie’s champagne glass. Frank’s body went rigid, ice filling his veins. “What the hell?”
“Fucking bastard. Leave him to me.” Madden started for the staircase at the end of the long balcony.