Unending Devotion (Michigan Brides #1)(79)

“Stuart,” he called again, louder, straining to see through the dark shadows.

With a thudding heart, he backed out of the room and ventured up the creaking stairs to his office. The door was wide open, and through the hazy moonlight drifting through the window, his last breadth of hope fizzled as he took in his overturned desk, the ripped books and ledgers, and the broken desk chair. His organized files were dumped on the floor; even the calendar had been ripped from the wall.

He let out a long tense breath and his shoulders sagged.

He’d been holding on to a slim margin, the one percent chance Carr wouldn’t connect him with Daisy’s disappearance. But now he was one hundred percent certain Carr had pegged him as an accomplice.

The moment he’d decided to help Lily take Daisy out of town, he’d cast his lot against Carr. For better or worse, he’d made an enemy of the man.

And he doubted even Dad’s money would buy peace now.

He kicked one of the ledgers, its pages torn in half. He wasn’t sure he wanted peace—not with a man who thought he was above the law in every way. It was bad enough that Carr was forcing young girls into prostitution and keeping them penned up in his brothels like slaves.

But now . . .

He clamped his mouth shut to keep from giving life to a curse.

Now Carr was destroying those who dared to stand up for what was right. He’d destroyed Stuart’s livelihood. And only heaven knew what he’d done to Stuart.

He spun out of his office and retreated down the steps. In seconds he was back on his sleigh. And in less than a minute, he pulled up in front of Stuart’s house. One glance told him Carr had ransacked Stu’s home just like he had the newspaper office.

Connell made his way cautiously through the wrecked house, dreading what he’d discover as he went from room to room. Finding only more of the same mindless destruction and with no sign of Stuart, he finally returned to the sleigh. He turned in the direction of the Northern Hotel, praying as he drove that Carr had left the Hellers alone.

A rumble of anger rolled through his chest at the thought of Carr hurting Vera and her husband or in any way damaging their business. If he’d touched them, Connell didn’t know what he’d do.

Was God trying to get his attention and send him the message that he needed to do more to join the fight? If so, it was working.

For once, he was grateful for the crass laughter and obnoxious piano music of the taverns, the coming and going of the shanty boys, and the usual brawling and shouting that punctuated the frigid night air. At least he could ride undetected and buy himself a little time before Carr realized he was back in town and sent his men after him.

Connell stomped up the step of the hotel and knocked the mud and slush from his boots. Through the front window, nothing appeared amiss. But his breath wobbled in short white puffs, and he opened the door slowly.

The dining room was deserted. The fire was low and in need of feeding. And only one of the oil lamps hanging from the ceiling was lit.

He closed the door and put his hand to his side, feeling the hard length of his knife.

“Who’s there?” Vera’s voice called from the kitchen.

“It’s just me. Connell.”

In an instant she appeared in the doorway, wielding her large wooden spoon, as if ready for battle.

When her gaze landed upon him, her spoon slipped from her fingers and fell to the floor with a clatter. Tears pooled in her eyes. “Connell. Oh, thank goodness you’re alive.”

He crossed the room toward her. “I’m just fine. What about you and Mr. Heller?”

“We’re scared. But mostly for you boys.”

He stopped in front of her, examining her for any signs of injury.

Her cheeks were as red as always, and frizzy tendrils of her speckled hair framed her face. Her grayish apron was splattered with the day’s work. Only her eyes were different—filled with sadness instead of the merriment he’d come to expect.

“I’ve been so worried about you.” She reached for his cheeks and squeezed them between her palms. “Looks like they beat you up too.” She frowned first at the cut on his lip and then at the puffy discolored skin surrounding his eye.

“I got in a fight with Tierney. That’s all. I’m okay—”

The cold butt of a rifle pressed into the back of his head.

“You won’t be okay when I’m done with you.”

Vera slapped her hands on her hips. “Now, you put that old thing away, Oren.”

The barrel dug into Connell’s scalp.

“I should have blown your brains out the first day I saw you,” the gruff voice of Oren came from behind him.

“The boy is cold and hungry,” Vera huffed. “Just you leave him alone.”

“I’ll leave him alone as soon as I’m done pounding lead into his head.”

“Don’t mind him.” Vera reached up and patted Connell’s cheek again. “He’s been worried near sick about Lily. That’s all.”

“Where in the hairy hound did you take her?” Oren demanded.

“She’s safe.”

“Where?”

“I can’t tell you here. Not out in the open.” They couldn’t take any chances on Carr finding out where Lily and Daisy were.

The pressure of the metal slackened but only slightly.