Acts of Betrayal

by Ruby Gallagher

“Is it safe?” Imp Harris stuck her head around the bunkroom door, eyes dancing as she glanced around. “Is she heah?”

Verity Fowler laughed from her seat on her bunk, where she was engrossed in a novel. “She’s not here, Imp, it’s all right,” she grinned as the younger girl came the rest of the way into the room.

Imp grinned back, rolling her eyes and showing off the elfin smile that was the basis of her nickname. "I know da minute she sees me, she’s gonna wanna know what I thought of….uh,” she paused, wrinkling up her nose. “What was ‘is name again?”

“Cody?” Verity supplied with an indulgent laugh. Imp nodded, rolling her eyes again.

“Yeah, ‘im.”

“What did you think of him?” Verity asked, and Imp groaned.

“He’s nice,” she admitted with a sheepish grin. “But if I tells Ruby dat - ”

“Tell me what?” a familiar voice asked and the two girls looked up to see the friend in question strolling into the bunkroom.

“Dat Greasah came lookin’ fer ya last night,” Imp improvised, much to Verity’s amusement. The red haired girl grinned, not at all surprised to hear about boys looking for her.

“What did ‘e want?” she asked, sitting down beside Verity.

“Didn’t say, jus’ dat ‘e was lookin’ fer ya,” Imp replied cheerfully.

Ruby shrugged. “All right, I’ll see ‘im latah. Whatcha readin’, Ver?”

“The Three Musketeers,” Verity replied, holding up the book for the other girls’ inspection. The novel was worn and threadbare, obviously having known much use.

“Again?” another new voice asked and Fingers Mulcahy strolled into the room. “Ya must ‘ave dat book mem’rized by now, Ver,” she commented sardonically as she sprawled her thin frame across her bunk.

Before Verity could respond, a tentative knock on the window interrupted the conversation. Ruby looked up, and did a sharp double take at the sight of the boy who was standing outside on the fire escape, peering in hesitantly.

“Oh, my gosh! Four Eyes!” she blurted out and jumped to open the window, while Fingers’ face darkened considerably as she watched Ruby usher a tall, thin young man with large dark eyes behind narrow-rimmed glasses into the bunkroom.

“Well, would ya look what da cat dragged in,” she drawled unpleasantly. “What’re you doin’ on dis side a’ da rivah, O’Malley?”

The boy glanced nervously at her before focusing on Ruby. “Uh, I jus’ thought I’d bettah…” his voice trailed off and he shrugged. “Hey,” he greeted the red haired girl weakly.

“Hey,” Ruby’s reaction to him was as different from Fingers’ as night was to day. The smile she gave him was warm if a bit wobbly. “How’re ya doin’?”

Four Eyes shrugged. “All right. How’re you?”

“Fine,” Ruby nodded slightly. “Ain’t seen ya in ages. How’s da Bronx treatin’ ya?”

“All right. I jus’ thought wanted ta say hello,” the tall boy shrugged. The other girls in the room watched with interest.

“Somehow I’m thinking we’re missing something here,” Verity remarked in an undertone to Imp as the two watched Fingers glower darkly at the boy. The tension in the room was so thick it could have been hacked with a machete.

“Gee, whatevah gave ya dat idea?” the younger girl muttered back.

“Don’t ya t’ink ya’s caused enough trouble already, O’Malley?” Fingers demanded, and the boy flinched slightly and looked at her warily. “Ya don’t gotta be comin’ ovah heah.”

“Leave ‘im be, Fingahs,” Ruby interjected, shooting the other girl a warning look. Turning back to Four Eyes, she smiled gently at him, but the smile was far from her usual dazzling, flirtatious one; instead it was rather sad, melancholy.

There was an awkward silence, then the tall boy blurted out, “I’m sorry.”

Ruby bit her lip and looked away, but when she turned back at him, her expression was clear. “Ya did what ya did ‘cause ya thought it was right,” she told him gently, without malice, without judgement. Four Eyes stared wretchedly at his feet, obviously not agreeing.

“So, uh, ya goin’ ta Medda’s Christmas party?” he fumbled for something else to say.

Ruby flashed him her trademark grin. “A’ coise, it ain’t a party unless I’m dere,” she replied flippantly, but the words were hollow. “Ya gonna go?”

“Nah,” the boy shook his head. “I don’t t’ink I’d be too welcome.”

“I wondah why,” Fingers sniffed and Ruby winced, turning to give the taller girl another warning look.

“What’s goin’ on?” Imp whispered to Fingers, who narrowed her eyes.

“O’Malley was one a’ Conlon’s boys, den ‘e was one a’ Forlani’s boys,” she muttered back. “He’s a rat, ran to da Bronx afta Forlani got throw in jail,” she explained briefly. Imp and Verity exchanged glances.

“Oh,” Verity murmured. The Harlem girls were aware of the Brooklyn territory wars, but most didn’t know the details as intimately as Ruby and Fingers did, since both of them had been part of the struggle.

There was an awkward silence during which Fingers glowered openly at the Bronx boy, making it perfectly clear how unwelcome he was. Finally, Four Eyes shrugged his shoulders and turned towards the window. “I guess I oughtta go,” he mumbled awkwardly. “I jus’ wanted ta stop by an’ say hi.”

“Hi,” Ruby smiled, touching his arm gently. He smiled back at her hesitantly.

“I’ll see ya ‘round,” he muttered and started out the window.

“Four Eyes,” Ruby began, reaching out to stop him. He looked back at her, shaking his head slightly.

“I’ll see ya,” he said, and ducked out the window.

Ruby stood where she was for a moment, tears welling up in her green eyes, then turning on her heel, she bolted for the washroom. Fingers made a sound of anger in her throat and started for the window.

“Are you going out, Fingers?” Verity asked, looking from one girl to the other in confusion.

“Yeah, Fingers snapped, climbing out the window. A moment later, muffled shouting filtered up from the street below. A red-eyed Ruby appeared in the washroom doorway, a handkerchief clutched tightly in white knuckles.

“She went afta ‘im, didn’t she?” she demanded. Without waiting for an answer, she stalked across the room and threw open the window. Before she had a chance to go out herself, Fingers came climbing back in, grumbling under her breath. “Why don’t ya jus’ leave ‘im alone?” Ruby demanded. Seeing Four Eyes had brought so many memories back, and she couldn’t keep from crying. It broke her heart to remember. Fingers gritted her teeth. “Dat’s why!” she snapped, with a sharp gesture indicating Ruby’s tears. “I left ‘im alone, I left ‘im alone in Brooklyn, I left ‘im alone in da Bronx, he didn’t hafta come heah!”

“I’m glad ‘e came!” Ruby shot back, emotion getting the better of her as she burst into sobs. Verity and Imp both hurried to comfort her. “I nevah hated ‘im fer what ‘e did, ev’ryone else did, but I nevah did. An’ even if I wanted to, I couldn’t anyway,” she added in an undertone.

“Ya’s too nice, Gallagher,” Fingers muttered coldly, distracted from the original reason for her anger. It had very little to do with Four Eyes’ long ago crimes, but more of the effect on Ruby, who was still recovering from the loss of Sebastian Deveer, her former lover who had been murdered only a few months before.

Ruby wiped at her tears and pulled away from Verity’s embrace. “I don’t wanna tawk about it,” she murmured and pushed past them for the washroom. Verity and Imp exchanged confused, concerned looks. A few moments later, the redhead returned, dressed for bed. Ignoring the others, she crawled into her bunk, pulling her blanket up to her chin. Closing her eyes, she tried to block out the images of the past, images of things that could have been, things that should have been, but mostly, of things that would never be.

It was a murky spring afternoon as the slight girl dressed in boys’ clothing crouched by the edge of the Brooklyn Bridge to grab the copper coin laying there in the dirt, sparkling slightly under the rays of the setting sun. It was a penny some careless soul had dropped, and it was the topper on a good day for the girl, who was a consummate pickpocket and minor con artist. As her fingers closed over the coin, the barest hint of noise caught her attention.

“What do you want, Conlon?” Amelia Cavanaugh, generally known as Flip, rose from her crouch and turned in one fluid motion, catching the infamous Brooklyn newsboys’ leader as he stepped out of the late afternoon shadows. Spot Conlon narrowed his eyes and fixed her with that inscrutable gray look. He’d never admit it, but he hated the fact that she was one of the few people he couldn’t seem to sneak up on.

“Ya got pretty good hearin’, Flip,” he remarked, leaning against one of the stone pillars that supported the bridge. Amy snorted.

“Nuthin’ to da wit’ hearin’, Spot,” she answered. “I kin smell ya comin’ a mile away. Arrogance gots its own stink.”

Spot smirked slightly. “Nice ta see you too,” he inclined his head. “How’s da pickings in Manhattan dese days?”

“Fine,” she replied a little warily. Spot Conlon didn’t make social visits or small talk, at least certainly not to her. He was talking to her for a reason, and whatever it was, she was bound not to like it. “Whatta ya want?” she repeated. Spot shrugged and pushed off the stone column he’d been leaning on.

“Came ta ask ya a favor,” he said, still managing to sound as arrogant as the day is long.

Amy arched her blonde eyebrows, half baffled, half amused. “Dat so?” she sniffed. “Whatever it is, no.”

“I figured ya’d say dat,” Spot shrugged as he turned away. Amy sighed reluctantly.

“Well, what was it?” she stopped him, mystified. Spot Conlon, all-knowing, all-mighty leader of Brooklyn, asking a lowly pickpocket for a favor? The devil must be going ice-skating.

“You’ve hoid dat Luke Forlani an’ ‘is boys ‘re tryin’ ta take over me territory,” Spot said, and Amy shrugged. She only lived in Brooklyn, she took her business over the bridge, so whatever territory wars were going on, they didn’t affect her. Of course, if Luke Forlani got control of Brooklyn, she’d definitely have to move on out. He was a nasty bastard and she wouldn’t let her little sister live within a fifty-mile radius of any place he had control of.

“I hoid,” she admitted, watching Spot carefully. For the first time she noticed that there were tension creases in his forehead, and circles were starting to hollow out those famous blue-gray eyes. Whatever was going on, it was bad, and it was taking its toll. “Whatta ya want me ta do ‘bout it?”

“Get in wit’ Forlani, lemme know what he’s up to,” Spot replied.

“Me?” Amy couldn’t hide her surprise. “Why me? Youse got tons a’ spies.”

Spot lifted one thin shoulder slightly. “Yeah, but nobody, especially Forlani, would expect you ta be reportin’ ta me. I want ya ta get in dere and lemme know what ‘e’s plannin’, ‘cause I know ‘e’s plannin’ sumthin’, but whatever it is, ain’t nobody tellin’.”

Amy stared at him in silence for a long moment. Spot Conlon was asking for her help. Hell must really be freezing over. “What’s in it fer me?” she finally demanded and Spot smirked.

“Don’t change much, do ya, Flip?”

Amy shrugged her thin shoulders. “Neither do you.”

Spot tilted his head back slightly and gave her that look. How much did she hate that look? “Shoah.” There was a pause as the two regarded each other.

“Ya didn’t answer me question. What’s in it fer me?”

“Da protection a’ me and me boys,” Spot answered coolly. Amy threw her strawberry blonde head back and howled with laughter.

“Sorry, Spot,” she snickered, wiping at the resulting tears of mirth. “Dat was jus’ kinda funny. I don’t need nobody’s protection, least of all yers.”

Spot shrugged nonchalantly. “Maybe not now, but if Cain Monroe ever gets it into ‘is head ta come on back ta Manhattan, he’ll be lookin’ fer ya. Jus’ sumthin ta t’ink about.”

Amy rolled her eyes. “Cain Monroe ain’t comin’ back now ‘er ever, so I ain’t worryin’ about it,” she replied. “Anythin’ else?”

Spot narrowed his eyes at her. “It’ll be worth yer while,” he promised.

There was a long silence as the two regarded each other, and finally Amy shrugged her shoulders in agreement. “All right den, ya got ya’self a spy, Conlon,” she agreed. Spot nodded briefly.

“Good,” he said, spitting in his palm and holding it out to her. Amy did the same and they shook. “Lemme know everything ya hear. Don’t leave nuthin’ out. And if ya double cross me, you’ll wish ya was never born,” he added ominously. Amy rolled her eyed heavenward.

“Please, me muddah never had no stupid kids.”

Spot arched a laconic eyebrow at her. “Ya don’t say.”

Amy sighed and ground out a cigarette beneath the toe of one worn boot as she watched the couple by the bridge. The girl was small and curvy, with a mass of dark auburn curls falling over her shoulders as she leaned against the tall, lean young man who was whispering in her ear. Even from where she stood, a few hundred feet away, Amy could hear Ruby Gallagher’s tinkling laugh, a laugh designed specifically to enchant any male who heard it. It usually worked.

Finally, the couple disentangled themselves and continued on their way across the bridge. Amy shoved herself away from the column she’d been leaning on and stepped out of the shadows, letting herself be seen. As Ruby caught a glimpse of her, she let out a yelp of happiness and rushed over to her.

“Amy!” she squealed, and threw her arms around the blonde girl. Amy resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Normally she would have socked anyone who tried to hug her, but Ruby was practically family; they’d grown up in the same tenement, the smallpox epidemic that had taken Amy and Chloe’s father had also deprived Ruby of her aunt and uncle, her only relatives.

“Heyah Ruby,” Amy greeted the girl when Ruby relinquished her strangle hold. “How ya been?”

“I’m terrific!” Ruby was nearly hopping up and down in her enthusiasm to see her old friend. The two didn’t move in quite the same circles anymore, and saw each other much less frequently than they used to.

“Heyah Flip,” Ruby’s companion, a tall, broad-shouldered young man with dark hair and even darker eyes, gave the girl a slight nod. He was startlingly handsome, with sharp, even features, but the sensuous curve of his mouth was somehow cruel.

“How’s it rollin’ Luke?” Amy nodded back, narrowing her eyes at him.

“Getting better ev’ry day,” Luke replied with a cool smile. Amy arched her eyebrows, taking that to mean the gang leader thought his campaign to win over more Brooklyn territory was working. Interesting.

“Ruby, ya mind if I talk to yer boy fer a while?” Amy asked, turning back to her friend. The red haired girl blinked in surprise.

“Oh, shoah, no problem,” she shrugged cheerfully. “Jus’ make shoah ya stop by an’ see me afta, I ain’t seen ya in ages,” she added, giving Amy’s fingers a squeeze. “How’s Chloe?”

Amy resisted the urge to roll her eyes yet again. “She’s fine,” she answered shortly, not caring to reveal the fact that Chloe had actually been quite ill nearly all winter. She was better now, but Amy didn’t want Luke Forlani knowing anything at all about her sister and her weaknesses.

“Go on back to da tenement, an’ I’ll meet ya dere,” Luke instructed Ruby, who nodded compliantly. She leaned up for a goodbye kiss, but the dark haired boy was already turning away and leveling a cold, measuring gaze on Amy. Ruby didn’t seem to notice the slight, and with a jaunty wave, was on her way. “So, whatta ya want, Flip?” Luke asked, taking out a cigarette and lighting it. Amy eyed him speculatively for a moment.

“I hoid youse tryin’ ta take over Conlon’s territory,” she remarked, leaning on the cement railing of the bridge. Luke blew smoke out of his nostrils and gave her another long look.

“What’s it to ya?” he wanted to know. Amy shrugged and accepted the cigarette as he offered it to her.

“I’m a bettin’ goil, see,” she said, taking a long drag, “an’ I’m bettin’ dat Conlon’s time might be up as Brooklyn leaduh.”

Luke smirked as she handed the cigarette back to him. “Ya wanna be on da winnin’ side,” he finished for her, and Amy shrugged again.

“It’s in me best interest ta be, ain’t it?” she said.

“If ya wanna keep livin’ in Brooklyn den yeah, I guess it is,” Luke agreed. “So ya wanna woik fer me,” he mused.

Amy looked at him sharply. “I never said I wanted ta woik fer you,” she snapped. “I said I wanted ta be able to stay livin’ in Brooklyn. I ain’t woikin’ fer you.”

Luke smiled that cold smile that could strike terror into a great many hearts. “Well, ya either woik for me, or against me. Ya wanna join da winnin’ side, ya gotta prove yer fer real.”

Amy stared at him in silence. “Prove how?” she spat out. Luke shrugged and ground out the remains of the cigarette.

“You an’ Conlon’s on good terms, ain’t ya?” he asked and Amy snorted.

“We hates each udda, ev’ry one knows dat,” she snapped.

“But youse on betta terms wit’ him den any a’ my boys are,” Luke replied, “so youse gonna be my spy.”

Amy glared at him. “I ain’t spyin’ fer you.”

“Well, dat’s da deal, ya woik fer me, ya gets ta stay once we gots control of da territory, ya don’t woik fer me, ya go out wit’ da rest a’ da trash,” Luke shrugged. “Makes no diff’rence ta me, but I don’t protect dose who’re against me, an’ a few of me boys are pretty sweet on dat liddle sistuh of yers.”

Amy gritted her teeth. “Yer a bastard, Luke,” she muttered, and the handsome thug laughed.

“Actually, I knows who me faddah is,” he grinned. “So, do we gots a deal?”

Amy glared at him for a long moment, then sighed. “Fine, I’ll do yer spyin’ fer ya, but you keep dose animals a’ yers away from me sistuh, ya got dat?”

Luke nodded briefly. “Got it.”

They spit shook, then began walking along the bridge towards the tenement that Luke and his brother had won in a rigged poker game. It was home now to most of his thugs, with a tavern and gaming hall on the first floor, and several rooms used by whores and other unmentionables for their business on the upper floors. Amy avoided the place like the plague, but now she followed Luke right up to the front door and on inside, gagging at the fetid odors that assaulted her nostrils.

“Ruby’s upstairs,” Luke gestured towards a staircase nearly hidden at the back of the main room, a tavern filled to overflowing with the seedy underside of Brooklyn’s young criminal element, playing various card games and drinking cheap liquor. “I wants a full report by tomorrow, Cavanaugh,” he added, and Amy looked back at him with contempt in her blue eyes.

“You’ll jus’ have ta wait den won’t ya?” she snapped. “You’ll get yer report when I gets da information, and no sooner. If it’s tomorrow, den it’s tomorrow, if it’s later den it’ll be later.” With that she turned and started through the room.

“Heyah, Flip, how’s it goin’?” a beefy hand wrapped around her wrist, pulling her to a stop.

“Take yer paws off a’ me, Berto,” Amy ground out through gritted teeth. Luke’s younger brother snickered as he leaned back in his chair, a bottle of whiskey in his free hand, a deck of cards sitting on the table before him.

“Ain’t seen ya ‘round heah much lately,” the goon remarked. Amy narrowed her eyes and in a quick motion, whipped a small knife out of her pocket and pressed it to the back of Berto’s hairy hand.

“Lemme go, or I’ll cut it off,” she whispered, applying enough pressure that a thin line of blood appeared. Berto yelped and let her go.

“Dammit,” he muttered, the front legs of his chair crashing to the ground. “I was jus’ tryin’ ta be nice!”

“Gorillas are never nice, Berto,” Amy replied, starting to turn away.

Berto narrowed his eyes, leering threateningly at the blonde girl. “How’s yer sistuh, Flip?”

In a flash of movement, Amy swung back, hitting Berto hard in the face with the heel of her hand. He went sprawling backwards with a howl, blood spurting from his nose. “She’s fine, t’anks fer askin’,” she muttered, spinning around and stalking the rest of the way through the smoke-filled room without incident.

Climbing the stairs, she came to the second floor, where only one room seemed occupied, the door open, light spilling into the dark hallway. Amy approached it cautiously and peered in.

Ruby was indeed inside, sitting on the bed, sewing something. “Heyah Ruby,” Amy sighed, and the red haired girl looked up, a smile spreading across her face.

“Amy!” she threw down the shirt she’d been repairing and rushed to give her old friend another hug. “How ya doin’?”

“I’m all right,” Amy nodded and took a seat in the rocking chair. It was against the far wall with a clear view of both the now closed door and the window. Amy had no illusions about this place and the people who lived there, and she was taking no chances. “Ruby, why do ya stay heah?” she demanded, giving the other girl a long look.

Ruby shrugged her thin shoulders and picked the shirt back up. “Because I ain’t got nowhere else ta go,” she admitted. “I ain’t goin’ back to da orphanage, and I ain’t gonna go live in dat girls’ lodging house wit’ Faith, so…” she waved a hand at the sparsely furnished room. “I’s heah. It ain’t all bad, Amy.”

Amy leaned forward in the rocking chair, resting her elbows on her knees as she regarded her old friend. Ruby Gallagher was a frivolous, fickle personality; she could rarely stay in one place very long, she could never keep the jobs her friends found for her in various factories, usually because she was too busy flirting with any available male. “You know Luke can’t win against Spot an’ ‘is boys,” she commented abruptly. Ruby glanced at her from below lowered lashes.

“Maybe, maybe not,” she said softly. Amy snorted loudly.

“It ain’t gonna happen, Ruby, and you knows it. Spot’ll get help from da udda boroughs if he needs to; ain’t nobody gonna want Luke Forlani runnin’ Brooklyn.”

Ruby bit her lip and frowned as she knotted off the thread. “Don’t tell ‘im dat,” she murmured. Looking up, she met Amy’s gaze squarely. “How’re you in all dis? You ain’t heah fer a social call, you hates dis place.”

Amy shrugged her shoulders, inclining her head ironically at Ruby’s perception. The redhead may have been flighty, but she had never been stupid. “Luke wants me ta spy on Spot fer ‘im,” she answered.

“Are you gonna?” Ruby asked, and Amy rolled her eyes.

“I’d radda spend a month in da refuge,” she snorted. “Nah, I’s got bettah things ta be doin’, but ‘e can think dat’s what I’m doin’.”

Ruby’s green eyes narrowed as she studied the other girl. “Yer woikin’ fer Spot!” she finally blurted out, her mouth dropping open. “Amy, ya don’t even like Spot!”

The corner of Amy’s mouth quirked sardonically. “He ain’t me favorite person in da woild, dat ain’t no lie,” she agreed, “but if somebody’s gotta run Brooklyn, I’d radda it be ‘im den Forlani. Luke’s rotten to da core, Ruby.”

There was a beat of silence as Ruby looked away, gnawing on her lower lip. “He ain’t as bad as ya think,” she offered weakly.

Amy dismissed the words with a curt wave of her hand. “Spot wants ta know what Luke’s plannin’ and I’m helpin’ ‘im find out,” she explained, keeping her voice low as she cast a wary glance towards the closed door. The dull roar from downstairs would make it difficult for anyone to eavesdrop, but she didn’t want to take any chances. “You gots any idea?”

“Amy, you can’t ask me ta betray me boy,” Ruby protested and Amy groaned out loud.

“Dat ain’t no boy, he’s a monster an’ you knows it!” she snapped back. Ruby flushed crimson, and for the first time, Amy noticed a mostly healed laceration along the red haired girl’s jaw. Setting her teeth, she shot a significant look at the mark, raising her eyebrows meaningfully at her friend. Ruby blushed harder, averting her eyes in shame.

“I can’t help ya,” she muttered, stubbornly focusing her attention on her sewing.

Amy stood up. “Fine, never mind, I won’t ask ya ta ‘betray yer boy,’” she sneered. Looking at the other’s girl’s slumped shoulders, her flash of anger faded and she sighed. “Ruby, if ya wants ta leave, you can come stay wit’ me an’ Chloe at da warehouse. It ain’t much, hell, it ain’t nuthin’, but it’s gotta be bettah den dis,” she said, her tone unusually gentle. Ruby flicked a brief glance up at her.

“Thanks, Amy, I’ll think ‘bout it.”

There was a definite note of dismissal in her tone, and Amy shot a glance heavenwards. She’d blown that possibility of help, that was for sure. “I’ll see ya ‘ round,” she said, and left the room.

Out in the hallway, she squared her shoulders and took a deep breath before heading downstairs to face the pack of rabid animals Luke called his gang. Pausing on the bottom step, she surveyed the smoke filled room. A long bar flanked the left wall, guarded by a bartender who was easily three hundred pounds and about as friendly looking as a grizzly bear with a bad attitude. A poker game was in process in the middle of the room, and various other games were going on at the smaller tables. Strolling casually across the room, Amy leaned on the bar and fixed the fat man with a cold stare. “Whiskey, straight.”

“Whiskey ain’t a lady’s drink.” The remark came from behind her, and the amused voice was familiar.

“I ain’t no lady,” Amy shrugged and turned to face the person who had spoken. She narrowed her eyes slightly at the young man standing before her. Sebastian Deveer was in his late teens, tall and lanky, with sandy hair and a confident swagger. He’d been one of Spot’s best fighters before defecting to Luke’s side after he and his best friend, a quiet, thoughtful boy named Four Eyes O'Malley, had a falling out with the Brooklyn leader.

Bastian grinned and nodded briefly. “Heyah Flip, what’s a nice goil like you doin’ in a dump like dis?”

Amy rolled her eyes. “Been askin’ meself da same question,” she replied, picking up her glass of whiskey and tossing back the contents. “I hoid you an’ O’Malley left Conlon an’ joined up wit’ Forlani,” she remarked as the liquor burned its way down her throat. “Didn’t believe it ‘til I seen it dough.”

Bastian shrugged. “Scotch,” he called to the bartender. “We needed us a change a’ pace,” he replied casually, leaning his elbows on the bar.

“Ya think ya did da right thing?”

Bastian gave her a long look. “Why do ya ask?”

Amy shrugged. “Jus’ a question.”

“Shoah,” he muttered.

“You really think ‘e’s got a chance?” Amy asked, casting a skeptical look across the room where Luke was in deep conversation with a small group of boys, including Bastian’s pal Four Eyes. The way they were clustered close together, talking intently, made it clear they were planning something, probably something illegal, definitely something nasty.

Bastian followed her gaze. “I’s hopin’ so,” he replied, taking a drink of his scotch. “He ain’t got da followin’ dat Conlon do, but ‘e’s got balls, an’ he ain’t afraid a’ nuthin. He’ll do whatever it takes.”

Amy eyed him silently for a moment. “That’s what I’m afraid of,” she muttered. “So, what’s ‘e gonna do? Murder Spot in ‘is sleep?” She looked at Bastian, who snorted.

“Nah, best way ta break down a leaduh is to go at ‘im through da ranks,” he said cryptically. Amy chewed on this for a moment, staring into her whiskey glass with narrowed blue eyes.

“What’s dat s’posed ta mean?” she finally asked. Bastian looked sharply at her.

“Youse askin’ a lot a’ questions, Flip,” he remarked, a warning note in his voice. Amy flinched inwardly, chiding herself for not being subtler.

“Just wanna know what I’m getting meself into,” she covered with a casual shrug. Bastian eyed her for a long moment.

“How’s yer sistuh?” he finally asked, and Amy sighed as she took a drink.

“Chloe’ll be some happy ta know everybody’s askin’ ‘bout her,” she muttered, pretending that the overt interest in her little sister didn’t concern her. Bastian shrugged.

“She’s a nice kid,” he remarked. “Too nice fer dis bunch,” he added, nodding at the occupants of the room. Amy had to grin.

“Dat’s fer damn shoah.”

Just then, there was the crash of a door being thrown violently open, and a thick voice yowled, “CAVANAUGH!” Amy looked up to see Berto, blood still streaking his face from where she’d hit him, staggering back into the tavern from a back room. He charged towards them, revenge blazing in his eyes. Bastian blinked in confusion as Amy hurriedly tossed a few coins on the bar.

“Lookit dat, it’s past me bedtime!” she shot him a cocky grin and bolted for the door. “See ya ‘round!”

“Through da ranks,” Spot repeated, leaning on his cane and frowning thoughtfully. Amy nodded and tossed a rock towards the edge of the pier, listening for the small splash as it hit the East River below. It was late afternoon and the Brooklyn docks were teeming with people who paid no attention to the two teenagers talking quietly on the pier.

“Dat’s what Bastian said,” she replied. “I dunno what it meant, but dat’s what ‘e told me.”

“An’ Forlani thinks youse woikin’ fer ‘im,” Spot commented, smirking. “Dat’s a twist.”

Amy shrugged. “It woiks out dough, ‘cause den I can feed ‘im false information, ya know? Like tell ‘im da opposite of what’s true.” Spot nodded, regarding her with that steely gray look.

“You oughtta do sumthin’ wit’ yer sistuh ‘til dis is over,” he remarked abruptly, straightening up and tucking his cane into his belt. “If dis blows up, she’d be a target,” he looked at her meaningfully as he took out his slingshot. Amy glared at him.

“I kin protect me sistuh,” she snapped. Spot shrugged and aimed for a row of bottles on the opposite side of the dock. Amy resisted the urge to roll her eyes; it was show-off time.

“Up ta you, just a t’ought,” he said, letting the marble fly. One of the bottles made a plinking noise as it shattered. Amy shifted her weight, wondering if the Brooklyn leader didn’t have a point. Luke’s remarks and Berto’s interest made her nervous. If they found out she was working for their enemy, they wouldn’t hesitate to use Chloe for revenge. “Dat all ya got?” Spot wanted to know, changing the subject back to their original topic.

Amy sniffed. “Not bad fer a foist try,” she muttered. Spot gave her a wintry look.

“Do bettah.”

It had been a good day; Amy whistled as she strolled along the Brooklyn Bridge, on her way home from a day of picking pockets in Manhattan, towards the vacant lot that surrounded the abandoned warehouse that she had converted into a temporary home for herself and Chloe. As she reached the end of the bridge, a movement in the growing afternoon shadows caught her eye. She tensed, anticipating an attack, but the shadow coalesced into the slight figure of Kipper Douglas, one of Conlon’s newsboys. She nodded briefly at the boy, who wasn’t more than about thirteen, as she passed, and Kipper eyed her warily. Obviously he’d been given the job of keeping an eye on the traffic on and off the Brooklyn Bridge. Slouched against a pillar, he didn’t make a particularly threatening presence. Amy dismissed him as she went on her way.

The warehouse where the Cavanaugh sisters were currently living wasn’t far from the docks, a falling down old building that didn’t look fit for rats to inhabit. The windows and doors were all boarded up, and all were impassable, save one, and then only when the person knew which boards to move, shifting a wrong one would bring a brick falling on their head; Amy’s own personal security system.

Amy hummed to herself as she made her way to the entrance, shoving the boards back into place after she was inside. “Chloe, I’m back,” she called into the cavernous interior. She’d left her sister home that day while she went to Manhattan to pick pockets alone. Chloe had suffered from pneumonia that winter, and although she was recovered, it had been raining that April morning and Amy refused to take any chances.

“Amy, I’m so glad you’re here!” Chloe, fifteen, blonde, and scared of her own shadow, rushed to greet her sister, her blue eyes wide.

“What’s da mattah?” Amy demanded.

“It’s Ruby,” Chloe bit her lip. “Ya bettah come see fer ya’self.” She gestured into the main room, which had been fixed up with cast off mattresses and blankets. Amy frowned at her sister, then pushed past her and hurried to see what was going on.

“Jesus, Mary and Joseph!” she cursed out loud when she caught sight of the figure sitting on the edge of a broken wooden chair. Someone had beaten Ruby to within an inch of her life; she was covered with blood and bruises, the worst of the blood she was attempting to clean off with a rag. Her face was swollen and already turning colors and she moved very slowly, with the preciseness of someone whose ribs were injured.

“Heyah Amy,” she managed a ghastly smile for the other girl.

“Luke do dis?” Amy demanded, stalking over and taking Ruby’s chin in her hand to get a better look at the damage. The red haired girl flinched and averted her eyes. “Why? What ‘appened?”

“He said I was flirtin’ wit’ Bastian,” Ruby admitted, pressing the rag to a cut that was still bleeding above her right eye.

Amy snorted. “Hmph. Well, can ya see now dat he ain’t what ya thought he was?” she asked. Tears welled up in Ruby’s green eyes.

“I ain’t stupid, Amy, I always knew he wasn’t no prince,” she mumbled sadly.

“Ruby, dis can’t happen again, he’ll kill you,” Amy said emphatically. The other girl nodded.

“I knows it,” she whispered. Taking a deep breath, she met Amy’s gaze, a new look of determination on her battered face as the sadness hardened into anger. “Dis ain’t da foist time neither. I’ve been thinkin’ about it all day an’…. I’m gonna help ya beat ‘im,” she announced softly. Amy’s eyes blazed in triumph for a second before she turned to her sister.

“Kippah’s out on da bridge, go tell ‘im ta get Conlon heah, now,” she ordered. Chloe nodded briefly and was gone in a flash.

“I’ll go back to ‘im, like nuthin’ happened,” Ruby was going on, mopping at the blood that covered her face. “I kin be a bettah spy den you ‘cause he trusts me an’ he’ll say things in front a’ me he wouldn’t say ta you.”

Amy nodded briefly. “Are you sure? If he finds out, he’ll do sumthin’ nasty.”

Ruby regarded her for a long moment, then shoved up the sleeve of her shirtwaist and held out her arm. “He can’t do much more ta me,” she muttered. A red haze of rage rushed over Amy as she caught sight of the round cigar burns scorched into the pale flesh on the inside of the other girl’s elbow.

“I’s gonna kill ‘im” she finally ground out when she could speak again. Ruby just looked at her as she pulled her sleeve down to cover the burns.

“If anybody gets ta kill ‘im, I do,” she said quietly, and Amy allowed herself a small smile.

“Dere you are, I was wonderin’ what happened to da Ruby I knew,” she remarked and Ruby shrugged her shoulders, wincing when the motion caused her bruises to protest.

“Amy.” At that moment, Chloe came scrambling back into the warehouse interior, out of breath from her mad dash up to the bridge.

“Is ‘e comin’?” Amy demanded and Chloe shifted her weight uncomfortably.

“Kippah said fer you ta come see Spot yaself,” she said softly. “Spot don’t answer summons, was what ‘e said.”

Amy groaned and rolled her eyes heavenward. “Right, fergot I was dealin’ wit’ royalty heah,” she muttered. “A royal pain in da ass, dat is. You two stay heah. I’m gonna go pay a visit to da king a’ da midgets.”

“Whatta ya want, Flip?” Spot demanded as Kipper led the pickpocket into the Brooklyn Newsboys’ Lodging House, which was little more than a glorified warehouse. It was nicer than Amy’s home, but not by a great deal. Louder, too, and much more crowded.

Amy smirked as she turned a worn wooden chair backwards and straddled it. The Brooklyn boys were in the process of playing poker, a pile of pennies as the prize sitting in the middle of the table. “Nice hand, ‘Rise,” she remarked to one of the boys. “Royal flush, good show.” Her words were greeted with a groan from the rest of the group, and a deadly look from Sunrise Morgan for ruining the game. “Conlon, dis is yer lucky day,” she announced, helping herself to a cigarette from a pack sitting on the table.

“How do ya figure?” Spot wanted to know, leaning back in his chair and regarding her coolly. “Looks ta me like it was ‘Rise’s lucky day ‘til ya spoiled da hand.”

“Poker’s overrated,” Amy shrugged. “Anybody got a light?”

“Heah,” Dove Parker held out a match and Amy accepted it with barely a flicker of acknowledgement.

“So, me lucky day,” Spot prompted, crossing his arms over his skinny chest. Amy leaned her elbows on the table and took a long drag on the cigarette.

“You gots yerself da best spy you coulda asked for,” she stated with a cocky grin.

“An’ dey say yer arrogant,” Sunrise smirked at his leader. Spot shot him a cold look.

“I wasn’t talkin’ ‘bout me,” Amy blew out a long stream of smoke. “Ya knows Ruby.”

Spot frowned slightly, a tiny line appearing between his gray-blue eyes. “What about ‘er?”

“Luke made da mistake a’ soakin’ da hell outta ‘er tonight - again,” Amy answered, all seriousness now. “So she’s decided ta help spy on ‘im fer ya.”

“How do we know she ain’t gonna change ‘er mind?” Keet Jameson spoke up. “If she’s ‘is goil, ‘er loyalty’ll be ta ‘im once she stops bein’ mad about bein’ soaked.”

Spot flicked a brief glance at the younger boy, then turned back to Amy. “Can ya trust ‘er?” he asked. Amy rolled her eyes.

“I’s known Ruby all me life, once she’s made up ‘er mind ta do sumthin, dat’s it. She’ll go back to ‘im, pretend like nuthin’s wrong, and keep ‘er eyes an’ ears open, den report to me. You couldn’t a’ asked fer a better spy,” she nodded emphatically.

Spot continued to eye her emotionlessly before speaking. “I guess we’ll see ‘bout dat, won’t we?”

“I hate ‘im! I absolutely hate ‘im! Why, I oughtta let Forlani kick his skinny little ass from heah ta Yonkers an’ back again - ”

“As if he could,” Ruby remarked sardonically against Amy’s tirade.

“Den dump ‘im in da East River,” Amy went on, pounding a fist into her hand as she paced. “Da arrogance of da liddle shit! I ain’t never seen anythin’ like it in me whole life!”

“’Cept what ya looks in da mirror,” Ruby muttered, and Chloe, listening quietly, choked on a giggle.

“We gots da best opportunity fer a spy, an’ all he can say is ‘we’ll see ‘bout dat’,” Amy, oblivious, rambled on angrily. “He’s such a liddle joik, heah I am, tryin’ ta help ‘im save ‘is precious territory, and all ‘e can say is ‘we’ll see’. See this, ya liddle - ”

“Amy,” Ruby stopped her in mid rude gesture. “He’s got a point, when sumthin’ like dis is goin’ on, ya don’t know who ya can trust, ya know? It’s all right, I’ll do what I said I’d do, an’ we’ll help ‘im keep ‘is territory. See, I ain’t insulted.” The smile she shot at the blonde girl was mildly ghastly beneath the bruises and swelling.

“I still hates ‘im,” Amy muttered. “When dis is over, I swear, I’s movin’ ta Manhattan. At least I can stand bein’ in da same room as Cowboy.”

“So can I,” Ruby smirked appreciatively, and Amy automatically turned and gave her a shove, heedless of the other girl’s injuries.

“Shuddup, Gallagher, dis ain’t da time. Now, Chlo,” she turned to look at her little sister. “Youse goin’ ta St. Mary’s fer a while.”

Chloe looked up, blue eyes wide with horror. “Amy, no! You had me dere all winter, I ain’t goin’ back!” She shuddered at the thought of the dreaded orphanage, run by an army of nuns who acted as though they served Napoleon rather than God.

“Ya ain’t got a choice, dis could git ugly, an’ I want ya outta da way,” Amy replied firmly. Her tone softened when Chloe’s eyes filled with tears. “C’mon, kiddo, its gonna be all right, it won’t be fer long, den we’ll break ya out an’ celebrate.”

“But,” Chloe began.

“Yer sistuh’s right, Chlo,” Ruby spoke up. “Ya don’t wanna end up lookin’ like dis or woise, now do ya?”

With that it was settled. By midnight, Chloe had been deposited safely out of harm’s way in the infamous orphanage, tearfully protesting the whole way. Amy felt dreadful having to put here there, but it was better than letting Berto or another of Luke’s thugs get his hands on the delicate fifteen-year-old.

Once Chloe was safely away, Amy accompanied Ruby back to the Forlanis’ tenement. Ruby slipped away upstairs and Amy went in through the main door, fingers wrapped tightly around the knife she kept tucked inside her sleeve. The tavern was full, as usual, and through the smoky dimness, she could make out Luke sitting in the corner, a bottle of whiskey in front of him as he conferred with Berto and a few other thugs. Sauntering over, she stopped beside the table and crossed her arms over her chest.

“I oughtta stick a knife in yer gullet,” she said to Luke, who leaned back and regarded her with a predatory gleam in his dark eyes.

“Ya think ya could, be me guest ta try,” he invited. The thugs chortled with amusement with the exception of Berto, who frowned and glared at her. Amy noticed that Luke had a few nasty scratches on his face, as well as several good bruises. Ruby gave almost as good as she got, Amy thought with a small measure of satisfaction. Bastian’s friend Four Eyes was sitting beside Luke, and Amy flicked a brief glance at him, meeting his gaze as he studied her from behind the wire-rimmed glasses that were the source of his nickname. His expression was inscrutable, unreadable, and Amy was momentarily reminded of the Spot Conlon’s trademark look.

“Ya addin’ beatin’ women to yer long list a’ accomplishments?” she asked Luke, who shrugged.

“Ruby had it comin’,” he dismissed it with an ease that sent Amy’s blood boiling. Taking a deep breath, she kept her temper under control.

“I hope someday you get what’s comin’ ta you, Forlani,” she muttered, another comment that the group found wildly amusing. Luke grinned and grabbed her wrist, hauling her down to sit on his lap. Mortified, Amy struggled against him.

“So, whatcha got fer me? Any good information?” he demanded as Amy dug an elbow into his stomach and tried to squirm away.

“If ya take yer hands off a’ me, maybe I’ll tell ya,” she snapped. Luke smirked as he let her go, and she scrambled quickly to her feet. “Remind me ta jump into a pool a’ flea dip on me way home,” she grumbled under her breath as she backed a few steps away. The thugs roared and Luke smiled nastily at her. “I don’t got much for ya,” Amy admitted coolly after a moment of glaring at him. “It’s gonna take some time, Conlon don’t trust me much, so ‘e ain’t too quick ta be talkin’ in front a’ me. What I kin tell ya is dat things ain’t goin’ so good over dere. Dey’s fightin’ among demselves, squabblin’, stuff like dat.” She noticed the brief, triumphant glance Luke flicked at Berto and filed it away for future reference.

“Dat it?” Luke wanted to know.

Amy shrugged. “Dat’s it.”

Luke smirked. “Not much of a spy, are ya?” To her mortification, Amy felt her cheeks flush. If Spot hadn’t just said more or less the same thing she wouldn’t have paid any attention to the criticism, but now it needled her pride.

“I tol’ ya it’d take some time,” she snapped. Luke shrugged his shoulders, getting to his feet. The other thugs at the table stood as well, looking at him expectantly.

“I hope yer worth more den dis, Flip,” he sneered, and Amy glared at him.

“Go ta hell, Forlani, I ain’t doin’ dis outta da kindness a’ me heart,” she shot back. Luke affected an affable grin as he went to pat her on the head. Amy jerked out of reach, glowering warningly at him.

“Simmer down, Cavanaugh, go ‘ave a drink or sumthin’. We’s got woik ta do,” Luke added, and the group around him nodded. Amy flicked a speculative glance at them.

“What are you doin’?” she demanded, frowning.

“Goin’ fishin’,” Luke smirked.

“Off da Brooklyn Bridge,” another of the thugs put in with a slimy chuckle. Berto elbowed him sharply, and the thug shut his mouth with a snap. Four Eyes was frowning deeply, a dark, closed expression on his face.

“See ya ‘round, Flip,” Luke smiled that cold smile and tweaked one of her suspenders. Amy gritted her teeth and glared after him as the group trooped dutifully towards the door. Fishing, he’d said. At twelve thirty at night? What was that supposed to mean?

Amy frowned, chewing on her bottom lip. Something about that bothered her, but she didn’t know quite what. Shrugging, she turned and made her way through the crowd to the back staircase. Once upstairs, she paused outside the partially open door to the room Ruby shared with Luke. Lamplight spilled out into the hallway, and hushed voices were barely audible above the din that filtered up from downstairs.

“…Ya shouldn’t ‘ave come back,” a male voice was saying urgently. “He’ll do dis again, an’ ya know it.” Bastian, Amy thought, inching closer. Somehow she had a feeling Ruby had been doing more than just flirting with him to have received such a beating from Luke. The intimacy in their whispered voices attested to that. Leave it to Ruby, Amy thought with a suppressed groan.

“I had to,” a second voice sighed. Ruby, of course. “He needs me, ya know,” she added rather sadly, and Amy rolled her eyes heavenward. She knew the other girl was playing up the tragically loyal, besieged girlfriend to convince Bastian she’d returned still on Luke’s side. “He does love me, even if it don’t look like it sometimes,” she went on. As Amy peeked around the edge of the doorway, she could see the two standing in the middle of the room, Bastian with his arms around the little redhead, Ruby looking up at him, tears glimmering on the edges of her lashes, like some tragic heroine in a penny dreadful novel. One thing about Ruby Gallagher, she knew exactly how to manipulate a man.

“Ruby, ya gotta get away from heah,” Bastian went on, and Amy put a hand to her mouth to cover a snort. “I gots aunts up in Harlem, if I asked ‘em real nice, dey’d probably let ya stay wit’ ‘em.”

“Bastian, I can’t,” Ruby sighed. “I hafta stay heah.”

“Because Luke needs you,” Bastian repeated bitterly. “He’ll kill you when ‘e gets tired a’ ya, ‘e’s done it before.”

Ruby blinked, actually taken aback by that piece of information, but she covered it with a long-suffering sigh. “It’ll be all right, Bastian, really,” she smiled up at him, pressing a hand to his cheek. “Yer sweet ta worry so ‘bout me.” Amy bit down on a rude gagging noise. Layin’ it on a liddle thick, ain’t ya, Gallagher?

Bastian’s tanned cheeks flushed. “Ruby,” he began, then paused, frowning down at her. “Nah, dis ain’t right,” he murmured, staring suspiciously into her wide, purposely innocent eyes. “Shit, Ruby, don’t tell me yer spyin’ fer Conlon too!” he finally burst out and pulled away from her. Ruby went white, and Amy, outside the door, froze, her mouth dropping open in horror.

“What?” Ruby sputtered, innocence and sweetness forgotten. “What’re ya tawkin’ about? I ain’t spyin’ fer nobody, ‘specially not Conlon, not on Luke, I wouldn’t do dat!” she protested. In the hallway, Amy was banging her forehead with the heel of her hand. Dammit, they’d completely blown it without even getting started!

“I knew it didn’t make no sense,” Bastian was muttering as he paced the floor of the small room. “Luke may have da ego ta think you’d come back afta what ‘e did, but I knows ya bettah den dat, ya ain’t stupid. Yer spyin’ on ‘im.” Ruby was shaking her head desperately, darting nervous glances towards the door. Hidden in the shadows, Amy knew her friend couldn’t see her.

“Bastian,” Ruby began, putting a hand on his arm, but he wouldn’t be deterred.

“What da hell is Spot thinkin’, wit’ all dese goils doin’ ‘is dirty woik?” he demanded, and Amy felt like the roof was caving in on her head. Ruby went completely still, staring up at Bastian with huge, terrified eyes. “He’s gonna git you an’ Flip killed,” the Brooklyn boy grumbled, but stopped when he caught sight of Ruby’s expression. “Hey, it’s all right, I knows Flip’s spyin’ too,” he said reassuringly. “Dat makes four of us.”

Out in the hall, Amy collapsed against the wall. That dirty liddle - he coulda at least tol’ me Bastian was ‘is plant! Son of a –

“You’re – you’re spyin’ fer Spot?” Ruby’s voice caught and Bastian shrugged as he smiled slightly at her.

“Guilty as charged,” he said. “Da whole fight we had was a set- up ya know, so Luke wouldn’t think we was still wit’ ‘im.”

“Oh,” Ruby whispered. “Well, that’s good den, right? We can all woik tagedda.”

Bastian was shaking his head. “Ya want me opinion on it, I think you an’ Flip oughtta take a vacation ‘til dis is over, if Luke finds out, ‘e’ll kill ya both.”

“Ya know, ya really oughtta be more careful what ya talk about when da door’s open,” Amy shoved the offending door wider and leaned on the frame. Both Bastian and Ruby jumped and spun to face her. “Anybody coulda been listenin’, den we’d all be swimmin’ in da East River.” Even as she said it, something about that bothered her. East River. Going fishing. There was something niggling at the back of her brain, something that wouldn’t quite pierce through to consciousness. Frowning slightly, she shoved the thought back.

“Amy, jeez, ya scared da bejeebers outta me!” Ruby gasped, grabbing the blonde girl and hauling her the rest of the way into the room, slamming the door behind her. Amy shrugged and fixed Bastian with a cool look.

“So yer woikin’ fer Conlon too,” she remarked. “Is dis all a’ us?”

Bastian shrugged. “An’ Four Eyes. It oughtta jus’ be him an’ me.” He shrugged again and smiled slightly self-deprecatingly. “I guess Spot don’t t’ink we’s doin’ a good enough job if ‘e’s sendin’ in goils.” Ruby slapped his arm for that.

“He didn’t ask me,” she said. “I’m doin’ it ‘cause I wants to. Because Luke desoives it,” she added in an undertone, absently rubbing the inside of her elbow.

Amy lifted a thin shoulder as Bastian looked at her. “I don’t know why he asked me, ‘e jus’ did.”

“Da more, da merrier?” Bastian smirked and Ruby laughed softly, running an affectionate hand up his arm. Amy watched the movement with hooded eyes.

“Ya need ta quit dat if ya wanna convince Luke yer fer real,” she remarked, and Ruby blushed as she took her hand away.

Amy shot her a frown and turned back to Bastian. “Last night, when we was downstairs, what did ya mean by ‘da best way ta get rid of a leader is through da ranks?’” she asked.

Bastian sighed. “I dunno, I hoid Luke say it, but ain’t nobody really tawkin’ ta me, dey don’t trust me yet, which is why I tol’ it ta you, ‘cause I knew you’d be seein’ Spot ‘fore either me or Four Eyes would an’ maybe he could figure it out. Obviously it means Luke’s gonna attack Spot through ‘is boys, radda den right at ‘im, ya know? But I don’t know how or where or when.”

There was a silence as Amy chewed on her lower lip, frowning as she thought about this. Then, all of a sudden, it hit, like a bolt of lightning, and it was so obvious she couldn’t believe she hadn’t thought out if before. “Dammit,” she cursed. “Brooklyn Bridge, Kipper!”

Kipper. They were on their way to ambush Kipper, little thirteen-year-old Kipper who was a good fighter but wouldn’t have a chance against a half dozen thugs with more muscles than ten of him put together.

Best way to get to a leader is through the ranks.

Take down as many of his boys as possible, sow the seeds of fear and disrespect, incite a mutiny.

Dammit!

It was black as pitch down by the Brooklyn docks, and it was nearly impossible to see as Amy ran as fast as she could towards the newsboys’ lodging house. Gasping for air, she was just turning a corner when an arm grabbed her around the waist and a hand clamped down over her mouth.

“Looks like I caught me a rat,” a familiar voice chuckled in her ear as she was lifted clean off the ground. “Wheah ya goin’ in such a hurry, Flip?”

Oh, hell.

Amy lashed out, desperate to break Berto’s hold on her, but the thug had her in an iron lock. Twisting, she tried to get an elbow into his stomach or a knee into his groin. Berto twisted with her, twice her size and three times as strong. “Goin’ ta see Conlon, was ya?” he snickered. “I tol’ Luke ya couldn’t be trusted.”

They were going to kill Kipper if she didn’t get free. The thought gave her strength, and with a soft growl, she sunk her teeth into the beefy hand that covered the lower half of her face. Berto howled in pain, and Amy jammed a heel down onto his toes. His grip slipped, and with a vicious yank she was free.

“Spot!” she yelled, putting as much volume behind it as she could. “The bridge! Kipper!” A moment later, a figure appeared near the door of the warehouse, and as Berto tackled her from behind, more shadows poured out of the building. Amy hit the ground hard, stars exploding behind her eyes. Gathering her legs under her, she attempted to buck her attacker off, but Berto’s weight was too great. They struggled, exchanging punches, then as her hat went rolling off into the darkness, Berto got a hand in her hair and dragged her to her feet. “Liddle traitor bitch,” he mumbled thickly, but just as they were standing, another body barreled into them, and they both went sprawling back into the dirt.

In the dim moonlight, Amy caught a brief glimpse of River Chambers before she scrambled up and took off running towards the bridge. There was no doubt in her mind that Spot’s second in command could easily wipe the floor with Berto, do a tap-dance on his forehead and walk away with nary a scratch.

There was a mini riot going on when Amy made it to the Brooklyn Bridge. At least twenty boys were fighting, and the night was filled with the heavy grunts and thuds of combat. Knowing that she’d completely failed as a spy for Conlon and caring very little, Amy grabbed the closest of Luke’s thugs and began swinging.

“You blew yer cover.”

Amy looked up as she poured whiskey over her badly skinned knuckles. “Well, ‘scuse me, next time I’ll worry more ‘bout me cover den savin’ one a yer boys,” she snapped. The newsboys who had been involved in the brawl, which was the majority of Brooklyn, were gathered in their lodging house, nursing their injuries and cleaning away the remnants of the violence. No one had been badly hurt, and Kipper, who, along with the boy he’d been guarding the bridge with, Ostrich, had walked away with barely more than a black eye and a bloody nose. There was no clear winner to the brawl, and this fact was plainly not sitting well with any of the newsboys.

“We coulda handled it,” Kipper mumbled and Amy turned a frosty look on him.

“Yer bloody welcome,” she growled at him, and the younger boy blanched at the expression on her face.

“I ain’t sayin’ I ain’t grateful,” Spot said coolly. “Jus’ dat ya blew yer cover.”

“Drop dead, Conlon, I ain’t nevuh helpin’ you wit’ nuthin’ again,” Amy muttered, wiping at the blood on her mouth with her sleeve as she glared at him.

Spot sighed. “T’anks fer warnin’ us, Flip,” he said calmly, and looked at her expectantly.

Amy made an inarticulate noise in response and wrapped a rag around her stinging fingers. “You should prob’ly take a vacation from Brooklyn fer a while,” the leader remarked. “Forlani will be lookin’ fer ya now.”

“What, an’ I cares ‘bout dat?” she shot back. “I ain’t goin’ nowhere.”

“What about Queens, ya gots dat friend in Queens, what’s ‘er name?” Spot ignored her as he went on. He was sporting a nasty shiner of his own around one blue-gray eye, courtesy of Luke himself. Amy wondered how Forlani looked now, considering Spot’s infamous fighting prowess. Luke may have been bigger, but she was willing to make a wager that he looked much worse than Conlon did at that moment.

“Faith,” she muttered in reply. “What’re ya, deaf? I ain’t leavin’.”

Spot leveled a steely look at her. “Dat ain’t a request, Cavanaugh.”

“Shove it up yer arse, Conlon,” Amy snapped as she got to her feet. Giving the Brooklyn leader a look that could melt molten lava, she brushed past him for the door.

Once out in the night alone, she headed west towards the bridge. She was cold and hungry, and worse, she had nowhere to go. The warehouse wouldn’t be safe, now that Luke knew she had been working for Conlon, he wouldn’t hesitate to come looking for her. Frowning, she switched directions. Luke would be looking for her, so where would be the last place he’d look?

“Flip, ya shouldn’t be heah!” Bastian opened the window into tiny room he shared with his best friend in the Forlanis’ tenement and stared at her with astounded eyes.

Amy shrugged as she pushed past him, climbing off the fire escape and inside. “Ain’t got nowhere ta go,” she replied matter-of-factly. “Gonna put me up?”

Bastian groaned and ran a hand through his blonde hair. “Yer gonna git us all killed.”

Amy shrugged dismissively as she sat down on his narrow, hard bed. The room was barely bigger then a closet, just enough for the bunk beds and a trunk where Bastian and Four Eyes obviously kept their necessities. Standing near the door, watching them both with a slight frown, was the aforementioned Four Eyes. Amy nodded briefly at him as she took off her hat and touched a tentative hand to her black eye.

“You was at da bridge tonight,” she remarked to the bespectacled boy, who shrugged.

“So were you,” he replied calmly.

“Diff’rent side,” she said, and Bastian sighed.

“We’re all on da same side heah,” he reminded them. Amy slanted a look at Four Eyes, perturbed that she couldn’t quite read his expression behind those glasses.

“Seems ta me you got outta havin’ ta beat up yer friends tonight,” she replied to Bastian, more bitingly than she intended. It was late, she was tired, and she’d failed, all of which had put her in a very bad mood.

The blonde boy sighed and shook his head. “Flip, let it go, we’re tryin’ ta do a job heah.”

Amy rolled her eyes. “Whatevah.”

“Ya can’t stay heah,” Bastian frowned, changing the subject as he looked around the tiny room. “But I think I knows wheah ya can stay. C’mon. Back in a few, O’Malley,” he grinned at his friend as he ushered a bad-tempered Amy back out the window.

“Whatta ya think yer doin’?”

The snapped words made Ruby jump and spin around, pressing shaking hands to her heart as she regarded the figure standing in the doorway. “What do it look like?” she shot back, dropping her hands to her sides, where she balled them into fists. The half-packed bag sitting on the bed was a prop; Luke would never believe her if she stayed without at least pretending to try to leave first.

The tall, dark haired boy straightened away from the doorframe and stepped into the room. “Ya don’t wanna try me patience tonight, Maggie May,” Luke said softly, dangerously. “I’s had a real bad night.”

“I don’t care,” Ruby sniffed, turning her back on him. “I’m leavin’.”

Luke was across the room in less than a step, grabbing a handful of auburn curls as he hauled his girlfriend around to face him. “Ya don’t wanna start wit’ me tonight, doll,” he warned her in a low voice. “I jus’ found out yer liddle friend Flip is woikin’ fer Conlon.” He studied her wide eyes carefully, searching for some evidence that she’d known. Ruby concentrated on looking as innocently shocked as she could.

“Amy? Spyin’ fer Spot? Are ya shoah?” she blurted out, and bit her lip on a cry of pain when Luke yanked on her hair.

“A’ coise I’m shoah,” he snapped.

“But Amy hates Spot,” Ruby protested and Luke let her go. Sagging onto the bed, she rubbed her scalp and glared at him.

“Obviously she don’t hate ‘im too much,” Luke replied, moving away from her and across the room, peering into the small, cracked looking glass to study his injuries from the evening’s brawl. He had two badly swollen black eyes, a split lip and various cuts, as well the knuckles of his right hand being skinned and sore looking. Ruby couldn’t help but feel slightly vindicated for the beating he’d given her earlier that day as she watched him frown at his reflection. “Did you know she was spyin’ fer ‘im?” he asked, much too casually.

“If I did, I woulda helped her,” Ruby snapped, standing up and tossing her brush into the carpetbag. Tensing, she waited for the violence that would come next. Instead, Luke chuckled slightly.

“Yer mad at me, ain’t ya, Maggie?” he remarked, turning away from the mirror. “I don’t blame ya. I’m real sorry I hoit ya.” Ruby stiffened as he strolled across the room and sat on the edge of the bed, pulling her down to sit on his knee. “I jus’ hate da thought of ya wit’ anybody else.”

“Save it, Luke,” Ruby muttered, and tried to pull away, but Luke put a bit of pressure on her bruised ribs, and with a yelp, she subsided.

“I love ya, Maggie, ya knows dat,” he went on in that silky tone. “Ya can’t go. I promise it’ll never happen again.” Smiling, he kissed her forehead. “Now, go git me some rags an’ a bottle a’ whiskey.”

“Get it ya’self,” the redhead sniffed, but did as she was told anyway, relieved that the charade had gone off without a hitch. Retrieving the requested items, she went about cleaning away the remnants of the night’s violence from Luke’s face.

“See now, ya know ya can’t walk away from me,” Luke smirked as she used the whiskey to disinfect a cut on his cheek. “Yer gonna be da queen a’ Brooklyn soon enough.”

Ruby rolled her eyes. “I don’t see Spot knockin’ down me door askin’ me ta be ‘is goil.” She jumped, spilling some of the liquid when Luke grabbed her wrist roughly.

“Ya know dat ain’t what I meant,” he snapped. The frown faded, and the handsome thug couldn’t resist a self-satisfied smirk. “By dis time next week, it’s all gonna be over. Brooklyn’s gonna be mine.”

“Shoah, Luke, whatever ya say,” Ruby muttered, applying more whiskey to a cloth. “How’s dat s’posed ta happen?” Her heart was pounding and she was sure Luke could read her intentions plain as day on her face.

Luke smirked, leaning back lie on the bed, folding his hands behind his head. “What’ll it take ta git Conlon’s boys ta follow me?”

“A bloody miracle?” Ruby replied sweetly, handing him the bottle. Luke glowered at her as he took a long swig.

“Yer dis close, Maggie,” he warned her softly, and Ruby shrugged, tossing the cloths she’d used to clean him up aside.

“Whatcha gonna do? Beat me up?” she demanded, belying her own words as she curled up next to him on the narrow bed. “So, what’ll it take ta git Conlon’s boys ta follow you?” she asked dutifully.

“Well, foist of all, wheah dey gonna go if dey don’t got dat lodgin’ house no more?” Luke asked, trailing a languid finger up and down his girlfriend’s arm. Ruby shrugged, hoping the laudanum-spiked whiskey would knock him out before the charade had to go too far, but not before she got the offered information out of him.

“Uh, Manhattan?” she suggested, shaking her head when he offered her the bottle.

“Nope, when dey got no place else ta go, dey’ll come heah. Ta me,” Luke smirked and took another drink. “Dere liddle warehouse is gonna have a bit of an accident, a kind of a burnin’ accident,” he snickered and Ruby tried to hide her horror behind a feigned expression of interest. “Den, when dey’s got nowheah ta go, ta da!” Luke made an expansive gesture with one hand. “Simple, but brilliant.”

Ruby chewed on her lip as she thought about this. “But darlin’,” she frowned, pretending to see a flaw in his plan. “What about Spot? He won’t let ‘em come to you.”

“Dat’s da beauty of it,” Luke grinned triumphantly as he knocked back the remains of the whiskey. “Slingshot boy ain’t gonna be ‘round ta help. Kinda hard ta lead yer gang from da refuge.”

“An’ how do you plan to - ” Ruby sighed and broke off, watching Luke’s head nod to one side as the laudanum finally took full effect. He was asleep almost instantly, snoring softly in the silence of the bedroom. She waited for a few moments, just to be entirely certain he was completely unconscious before getting carefully to her feet and slipping out the door, closing it soundlessly behind her.

The corridors of the tenement were deserted as Ruby snuck through them to the small room on the second floor that Bastian shared with Four Eyes. Knocking once, without waiting for an answer, she opened the door and went in. “Bastian ain’t heah?” she looked in surprise at Four Eyes, who was just in the process of climbing into his bunk.

Four Eyes looked around the tiny room. “Ya see ‘im?” he muttered, then straightened, remembering his manners. “He went ta find a place fer Flip ta stay da night,” he said quietly, taking off his slightly crooked glasses and rubbing his eyes.

“Oh,” Ruby nodded briefly, vaguely disappointed. “Dat’s fine, den, I’ll jus’ tell you.” Closing the door firmly behind her, she hurried across the room and grabbed Four Eyes by the arm, pulling him down to sit beside her. “Luke’s plannin’ ta burn down da lodgin’ house sometime real soon, he didn’t say when though. An’ he’s got some kinda plan ta send Spot to da refuge.”

Four Eyes watched her with an inscrutable expression. “He tell ya dis?”

Ruby nodded, eyes sparkling with excitement. “Yeah, jus’ now. Braggin’.” A noise from out in the hall put an abrupt end to the conversation. “I’d bettah go, ‘fore I gets caught,” she said, and dropped an affectionate kiss on the boy’s cheek. “Good luck,” she added, and opened the door a crack to peer out. No one was in the hallway, so with a quick grin over her shoulder, Ruby slipped out and back upstairs. Her heart was pounding with anticipation, but her spirit was light, they were going to beat Luke, everything was going to be all right.

Ruby hated factory work. Hated it with an all consuming passion that rivaled her hatred of authority, snakes, and Berto. She only did it because she hated the idea of selling newspapers even more.

With a sigh, she brushed a lock of hair out of her face and tried to focus on the shirtwaist in front of her. The seam was crooked. She’d be docked thirty cents if the seam was crooked –

“Psst, red!”

Ruby rolled her eyes and glanced at the cracked window behind her. She was lucky she was on the first floor of the James St. Shirtwaist Factory. It made it easy for anyone who wanted to talk to her to whisper through the window. As Amy was doing now.

“Ten minutes an’ I’ll have me break,” she muttered to the sewing machine in front of her. “I’ll be out then.”

No answer from behind her, but she knew Amy had heard. The other girls at the sewing table exchanged glances. There was always somebody looking for Ruby Gallagher, just it was usually that gorgeous boyfriend of hers. And wasn’t he just a dish and a half? All the girls tittered when he came around. Ruby couldn’t decide if it amused her, or annoyed the heck out of her.

Ten minutes later, Ruby followed the other factory girls out into the late April sunshine. Blinking hard against the harsh glare, she shaded her eyes, then joined Amy on the opposite side of the street.

“Heyah,” she smiled as she greeted her friend. Amy snorted a response and glanced around.

“Jus’ came ta see if ya got anythin’ new fer Spot,” she said, lighting a cigarette. Things had been surprisingly quiet in Brooklyn for the past few days. It was as if both sides were holding their breath, waiting for the other’s next move. Amy had been hiding out in various locations around the docks, and was very ready for the whole blasted affair to be over so she could go home.

“Nah,” Ruby lifted a thin shoulder and glanced up at the clock above the factory door. “Jus’ what I sent ta Spot a few days ago.”

“An’ what was dat?” Amy asked, following her gaze and rolling her eyes. Flip Cavanaugh would never be a slave to someone else’s schedule.

“About Luke burnin’ down the lodgin’ house, an’ sendin’ Spot to the refuge,” Ruby answered a little distractedly. “I gotta go,” she added, not noticing Amy’s narrow-eyed look of confusion.

“What plan was dis? Spot knows about it?” she demanded sharply, and Ruby glanced at her.

“Yep, shoah does, sent da message to ‘im on…” she paused, “Tuesday. Didn’t ya hear about it?”

“No,” Amy was shaking her head, a deep line creasing the freckled skin between her eyes. “Are ya shoah Spot knows?”

“I’m positive,” Ruby shrugged. “I sent Four Eyes with it on Tuesday. I really gotta go,” she added as the clock struck one. “See ya ‘round.”

“Foist I’ve hoid of it.” Spot’s eyes were like chips of gray ice as he regarded Amy. “Ya shoah she said she sent it to me on Tuesday?”

“Tuesday,” Amy repeated, nodding. “She said she tol’ O’Malley.”

“O’Malley.” Spot tapped the top of his cane and frowned deeply. Even Amy knew to be wary when the Brooklyn leader got that look on his face. “Somebody’s got some explainin’ ta do.”

“Ruby.”

She smiled as she turned. “Bastian,” she replied, imitating the tone of his voice as she stepped close to hug him. His arms went around her for a brief moment, then, to her surprise, he was pushing her away so he could look into her face. “What’s wrong?” she frowned up at him. Bastian never looked that serious, especially when he was around her.

“Can ya come wit’ me fer a second? I wanna clear sumthin’ up,” he said quietly, stepping back from her. Ruby frowned as she nodded and silently followed him down to the small room he shared with Four Eyes. Inside, Amy was standing with her back to the window, her arms crossed and a dark, unforgiving expression on her small face. O’Malley stood nearby, the expression on his face a bit harder to read. Ruby frowned as she looked at the two of them, then turned back to Bastian.

“What’s goin’ on?”

“Ya tol’ Flip ya sent a message ta Spot on Tuesday,” Bastian said, and his voice was strangely harsh. Ruby blinked, finding it difficult to believe that harshness was intended for her.

“Yeah, I did,” she looked at Four Eyes, but the bespectacled boy was staring fixedly at the floor. “Why?”

“It never got ta Spot. ‘E didn’t know about it until today,” Amy replied, and there was an accusation plain in her voice.

“What? Dat ain’t possible!” Ruby’s gaze swung first to Amy, then to Bastian in confusion. “I told Four Eyes on Tuesday!”

“Yeah,” Bastian’s voice was the coldest she’d ever heard it. “Ya told Four Eyes.”

Ruby looked at the bespectacled boy in bewilderment. “What happened? You didn’t get a chance to tell him? Did Luke find out somehow?” She went pale at that thought, knowing she’d never survive if Luke knew she’d betrayed him.

Four Eyes shook his head slightly, his gaze fixed somewhere on the wooden floor.

“He sold ya out,” Amy snapped harshly, and Ruby flinched in disbelief, understanding now that the accusations weren’t aimed at her.

“No, no, he didn’t,” she looked to Four Eyes to defend himself, to explain. “He couldn’t have. You didn’t, you wouldn’t!”

There was a long, dreadful silence. Bastian and Amy both glared daggers, and Ruby trembled on the verge of tears.

“Why?” she finally whispered. “Did he threaten you somehow? What power do he got over you?”

“None,” Four Eyes muttered, still to the floor. He met her gaze squarely and repeated, “none.”

“I don’t understand,” Ruby shook her head.

“Lemme explain it to ya,” Bastian cut in savagely. “He sold us out because he likes this life, it’s comfortable, it’s nicer than livin’ at the lodging house. He’d rather live here with them then with his friends. There’s money in it.”

Ruby shook her head again, still looking at Four Eyes. “But, if Luke wins…” her voice trailed off. “You want Luke to have Brooklyn? You would give over that much power to someone like that?” her voice was choked with tears as she shoved up her sleeve. The round scars burned into the pale flesh were mostly healed now, but no less ghastly for it. “You’d give that much power to someone who would do this?” Four Eyes didn’t look at her, nor did he look at the arm she proffered.

“Save yer breath, Rubes,” Bastian cut in. “’E ain’t worth it.” Ruby opened her mouth to protest, but Bastian took her hand. “Let’s go. We’ve got to figure out a way to stop this.” He shot a cold, challenging look at Four Eyes, but the other boy had no response, staring still at the dirty floor.

“So, whatta ya got?” Amy strolled uninvited into the strategy meeting of Spot’s inner circle. She garnered more than a few glares as she nudged Keet over and took a seat beside him on his bunk. Spot himself regarded her with narrowed, speculative eyes.

“Gonna go in an’ show ‘em who’s boss tomorrow night,” River finally supplied with a slightly savage smile.

“An’ do what?” Amy asked, lighting a cigarette. “Beat ‘em up? Ain’t like Luke an’ ‘is boys can’t give ya a run fer yer money.”

“We’re discussin’ permanent solutions,” Keet put in earnestly. Amy rolled her eyes.

“Permanent, huh? Whatcha gonna do? Stick a knife in ‘im?”

“Police raid,” Spot explained shortly. “Luke’s already wanted, all we need’s a tip off.”

“Beat ‘im at ‘is own game,” War nodded, obviously relishing the concept.

Amy snorted. “Oh, yeah, dat’s a good idea. He’ll be out in a month, prob’ly less. Ya need ta get ‘im fer sumthin’ bigger den jus’ pickin’ pockets or sumthin’.”

“Luke’s into biggah stuff up to his ears,” Dove remarked quietly.

“’E is, but how do we get ‘im nailed for it?” River wanted to know. Amy smirked and took a deep drag on her cigarette.

“An’ what do ya suggest, Flip?” Sunrise asked sarcastically, seeing the smug expression on the pickpocket’s face.

Amy grinned as she leaned forward. “Thought ya’d never ask.”

Now this was just a bloody bad idea. Ruby shifted nervously and tucked a red curl behind her ear. If someone saw her – She glanced worriedly at Amy, but her friend just jerked her chin towards the building across the street, urging her to get on with things. With a sigh, Ruby squared her shoulders and headed towards the headquarters of the 2nd precinct, Brooklyn police department.

“I’d like ta talk ta Constable Sheehan, please.” The fat man behind the desk didn’t even bother to hide his leer before he directed her to a nearby office. Trying not to look like a street rat who broke the law daily, Ruby headed over to the tall, broad shouldered young man standing beside a filing cabinet, his auburn head bent over a file full of papers.

“Michael?”

The young man looked up and blinked, a smile spreading across his freckled face. “Ruby?” he laughed out loud and grabbed her in a bear hug, spinning her around as he lifted her off her feet. “How are you?”

“I’m fine,” Ruby hung on to thick biceps until he set her back down. Michael Sheehan had been another Our Lady of Charity Orphanage kid. While she’d run away from the restrictive nuns at the age of 12, he’d stayed and made something of himself, joining the police force the year he turned 18. She still saw him occasionally, less often than she used to, and knew he still carried a childhood torch for her. It was that torch that Amy was counting on to help them.

Michael grinned widely and took her hand. “I’m on break, come and sit a minute with me?” he asked, and Ruby nodded, letting him lead her back outside, ignoring the cat calls of the other rookie policemen. “So how are you doing? Where are you staying these days?”

Ruby fidgeted at the questions as she settled beside her old friend on a stone bench outside the precinct. She couldn’t help a surreptitious glance around. If Luke or one of his cronies saw her here –

“Michael,” she paused, wetting her lips nervously. “If I was in trouble, would ya help me?”

The young policeman stared at her. “Of course I would, you know that,” he frowned, squeezing her fingers. “What’s wrong?”

Instead of answering, Ruby shoved up the sleeve of her shirtwaist and presented Michael with the latest of Luke’s abuses. There was a beat of silence, then the air turned blue with a string of curses no nice Irish Catholic boy ought to know. Ruby waited it out, eyes fixed on the cobblestones.

“Who did this to you?” He caught her chin and turned her face towards him. “Ruby, who did this to you?”

Swallowing over the lump in her throat, Ruby met his gaze. “Yer lookin’ for ‘im, an’ I know where you can find ‘im. He’s runnin’ an illegal gamblin’ den down by the river.” Quietly, clearly, she gave him exact instructions on where to find Luke.

They were coming for him tomorrow. Michael had promised. Everything was in place, everything was ready. Just one more night and she’d be safe, they’d all be safe. It would be over.

Ruby tucked the ends of the ratty old blanket tightly around her bare shoulders. The spring night was damp and cool, and while her bed might certainly be warmer than standing on this dark landing looking out into the rain, she couldn’t bear the thought of being there right now. She was terrified she’d start talking in her sleep and say something and Luke would know –

She shivered. It would be over soon. She trusted that. She had to.

A footstep behind her, and Ruby tensed, spinning around, wishing she’d remembered to bring a knife or something. Skulking around the Forlanis’ tenement in the dark wasn’t the safest pastime, even for the boss’ girl. But the shadow that appeared around the corner and stopped dead at the sight of her wasn’t a dangerous one, not really. She’d never believe he was dangerous. Foolish maybe, self serving perhaps, but never dangerous.

Silence stretched out, long and tense. Finally, Four Eyes nodded a greeting. He looked poised for flight, and Ruby couldn’t blame him. He wasn’t exactly popular with her camp these days. She managed a nod back.

“Ya aw right?” Her whisper sounded like a shout in the thick silence. She shouldn’t care, should she? He’d betrayed them all. But –

Another nod. “I’m aw right.” More silence. “You?”

She shrugged a bit at that. She had a fresh bruise on her jaw from where Luke had gotten impatient with her earlier, but otherwise, she was all right. “I’m fine,” she murmured, then paused. “Thanks.”

More silence, thicker and even more tense this time. Somebody should do something, say something, but – what?

“Four Eyes - ” His name came out of her mouth before she even thought of what to say. He looked at her, and Ruby faltered. What was there to say? Ask him why he did it? Beg for an answer? No. “Take care a’ yerself?” she finally whispered weakly. He nodded in return, not quite meeting her eyes.

“I’ll be aw right.”

Of course he would, he’d probably be the only one who would. She pushed away the bitterness in the thought and pressed her lips together to keep from crying. His betrayal pained rather than angered. She didn’t understand, she’d never thought to be so disappointed. Ruby turned back to the murky window, tugging the ends of the blanket more rightly around her shoulders.

“He’s asleep, but I can get ‘im for ya,” Four Eyes offered from behind her. Ruby held back a flinch. That would go over well. No, it was best to stay away from Bastian for now, try to avoid the inevitable suspicion. That and the fact that she just didn’t think she could stand to be around him right now. His pain was anger, and he was very angry indeed.

“No, thanks,” she whispered to the ghostly streams of water running down the glass. Another silence, then the creak of retreat. He was gone. Ruby expected to feel relief. All she felt was acute disappointment.

Amy crouched behind the remains of a crumbling stone wall and watched as the Brooklyn police prepared for their raid. Good, good, all going according to plan. The police would come in from the front, Conlon’s boys would stop the retreat from the back, Luke and company would get stuck in the middle. It was foolproof. Or so she hoped.

Smirking to herself, Amy struck a match on a rough bit of stone and lit her cigarette. Conlon owed her for this one. Her plan was perfect, they couldn’t have asked for a better –

A shape moved in the darkness opposite her, and Amy lowered her hand from her mouth, feeling her stomach drop to her knees. There was someone picking their way past the cops, someone keeping to the shadows so he wouldn’t be seen, someone with a thick silhouette and a slouching gait. There was only one person she knew who walked like that –

Amy cursed.

Throwing down her cigarette, the pickpocket crept around the group of police and scrambled towards the figure, who had also managed to make it past the cops undetected, and was headed towards the tenement, most likely hell bent on warning his brother of the impending danger.

Staying low, she followed the shadow around the edge of a neighboring warehouse. She was nuts, she had to be – Berto Forlani would beat her to a pulp in a heartbeat. Oh well, nothing ventured, nothing –

“Hey, ya big lug, wanna have some fun?”

Without waiting for an answer, she threw all ninety eight of her pounds at his two hundred, hoping the distraction time would be enough.

Luke knew something was wrong. He could totally tell she was nervous. He was seeing right through her. If Michael and company didn’t show up really soon, she was going to be –

“What’s da mattah, Maggie May?”

Ruby held back a flinch and smiled up her boyfriend. Until a few moments ago, they’d been down in the tavern area, having a drink while Luke played poker.

“Me? Nuthin’,” she lied, taking a step away from him. “I’m fine.”

Luke eyed her for a moment - he knows! - then shrugged his broad shoulders. “So c’mere an’ gimme a kiss.”

She didn’t want to. She didn’t want him to touch her right now.

Flashing a smile, Ruby moved across the small bedroom and did as she was told. Soon, they’d be here soon and everything was going to be –

“’Ey, Luke, we got comp’ny comin’!”

Or not.

The door to the bedroom crashed open to reveal Berto, blood dripping from a fresh split lip. Luke released her and stepped back, frowning.

“Whatta ya mean, company?” he demanded. Ruby flinched at his tone, inching towards the door. That tone meant pain. A lot of it.

Berto wiped his nose with his sleeve. “Comp’ny - ya know, bulls. Dey’re comin’ ta raid da place. We gots ten minutes tops before dey’re heah.”

Luke cursed softly, dangerously, muttering something Ruby knew she didn’t want to hear. “Get ev’rybody out. Dey’re comin’, but dey ain’t gonna find nobody,” he ordered shortly. Berto nodded and hurried back out the door, heading to clear everyone out. Ruby shook, watching as the carefully laid pieces of their plan shattered into teeny bits of failure. Luke glanced at her, and she was certain her guilt was written clearly all over her face. “Whatta ya standin’ dere for?” he demanded, crossing the room in two short strides and grabbing her arm. “Get goin’!” He shoved her out the door, and Ruby stumbled, then fled, wondering briefly if it was too late to catch the last trolley to Queens.

Amy was pretty sure her arm was broken. Or at least sprained. Dammit. Just what she needed. Cursing Berto and the fact that he was about triple her size, Amy hurried towards Conlon’s docks. Hopefully, they were already on their way and this whole thing could still be salvaged.

“Ain’t ya headed da wrong way, Cavanaugh?” The voice came at her out of the darkness, and Amy nearly passed out with relief.

“Fuck off, Morgan, dey know da bulls’re comin’,” she ground out. “So, ya might wanna, ya know, walk faster.”

She heard cursing and the pound of running footsteps as her knees gave out and she had to drop down onto the broken cobblestones to rest.

Stay tuned! More to come...