The crowds cheered as two more men proceeded to pummel each other in the ring.

Charlie turned to Jack with an expression of stunned but pleased disbelief. “It’s really you, Diamond Jack?”

“Must be,” he answered, “because I’ve got on his trousers.”

The bookmaker threw back her head and laughed. Then grabbed Jack by his shoulders and pulled him into an embrace. Eva noted sourly that Jack enthusiastically returned the hug.

“Blimey and bloody hell,” Charlie cried, “it is you! Got bigger, though.” Pulling back, she gave his bicep an appreciative squeeze. Eva wanted to shove her to the ground. “Didn’t think it was possible. If we had weight classes here, you’d have been at the top.”

“Breaking rocks either wears a man down to a nub or builds him up,” he said, a hint of pride in his voice.

“Word was you got sent to the clink for trying to do in that toff.” Charlie used her thumb to tilt back her bowler hat. Eva would have thought the combination of men’s clothing with a woman’s skirt might appear silly, but Charlie looked raffish and daring, curse her. Eva never considered herself a particularly conventional woman, but standing next to Charlie made her feel like a vicar’s prim daughter.

“It was him that killed Edith,” Jack growled.

“So I heard,” Charlie said somberly, “and I’m right sorry about it. But I didn’t think they’d let you out of stir.”

“Let myself out,” Jack replied, and Charlie laughed again.

“’Course you did!” She punched him in the arm affably. “No sodding prison walls can hold Diamond Jack, the fighter with one of the best records in Bethnal Green.”

“His escape is not something we’d like to advertise,” Eva said through clenched teeth.

As if suddenly remembering that Eva stood watching the whole exchange, Charlie glanced at her. Taking in Eva’s deliberately drab cloak, Charlie said, “She don’t seem like your usual style of bird, Jack. Looks a bit frowzy.”

“I’m blending in with my surroundings,” Eva snapped. “And I’m not Jack’s bird.”

Charlie grinned. “Got a mouth on her, though.”

“Don’t I know it,” Jack said.

Eva fought to keep from ramming her knee into his groin. “The mouthy bird wants to know if Charlie’s going to help us or not.”

“That all depends,” Charlie answered. “What kind of help do you need?”

Jack stepped closer, and lowered his voice. “We need to steal a body.”

*   *   *

Charlie refused to leave until the boxing match had been concluded.

“There’s friendship and there’s business,” she said, watching the ring. “I got to earn my beer, too.”

Eva smothered her impatience as the pugilists fought. She’d never been to an underground boxing match, and if the circumstances weren’t so urgent, she could easily devote hours to studying the environment and the participants. London existed in countless variations at all times—a thousand cities that held the same space on the map. They lived side by side, and you could spend your whole life here without learning all the different Londons.

This London was brutal, vicious, yet pulsating with invisible energy. A masculine place, pared down to its elemental self, where men proved themselves by trouncing challengers in the most primal, unrefined way possible. It made perfect sense that this place, and others like it, had created Jack.

She’d no doubt that he could set foot in the ring right now and defeat anyone here. Including the other fighters—fierce-looking men lined up near the ring, shadowboxing or watching the current match. None of the fighters would make for pleasant company if encountered in a dark alley.

And Jack could thrash any of them.

Despite all her books, the many languages in which she could converse, her pride in her higher reasoning, the desire she felt for him was far from intellectual. Seeing him here, knowing that he once ruled this rough, wild place, kindled a hunger within her.

“None of these blighters could touch you,” Charlie said, echoing Eva’s thoughts. She shook her head mournfully as she watched the fighters swing at each other. “Wasn’t nobody better than Diamond Jack. Undefeated, you were. A bloody shame when you retired.”

“Couldn’t stay in the ring forever,” he answered. “The money was better being a bodyguard, and I didn’t get my nose broken every two weeks.”

“But you were the Leonardo da Vinci of brawling,” Charlie complained. “You don’t take da Vinci’s paintbrushes away just ’cos he hurts his pinkie finger.”

“Jack’s got more to offer than his fists,” Eva retorted.

Charlie sent her a cunning smirk. “Oh, I know that, darling.”

Would anyone notice if, in the middle of the fight, Eva hauled off and punched Charlie? Or would the crowd gather around and place bets?

“The match’s ending,” Jack said quickly.

He and Eva retreated to the edge of the building as Charlie settled with the bettors. Volumes of money changed hands with a speed that would shame the most experienced bank clerk. Despite the fact that Charlie was one woman amid a sea of men—some of them angry over the results of the fight—she looked comfortable, confident, laughing over bawdy jokes and shouting down anyone who complained about their bets. She seemed to know everyone, and they knew her. A woman like Charlie could be a valuable resource for Nemesis.

Eva would sooner chat with an adder than approach Charlie for information.

“Green’s a nice color on you,” Jack said, chuckling.

“I’m not jealous,” Eva answered at once. She had no right to that emotion, not where he was concerned. Yet acid seemed to be burning through her veins.

“A lot of time’s passed since me and Charlie.”

“You could take up with her again tomorrow and it wouldn’t matter,” she said airily.

His eyes narrowed as he gazed at her. “Didn’t figure you for a liar.”

The impulse to deny it gripped her. Yet he deserved far better than that. So did she, for that matter. “Perhaps I’m jealous,” she admitted, then added hastily, “But I’ve no right to be. It’s completely irrational.”

His gaze heated. “Nothing rational about you and me wanting each other. That don’t stop us, though.”

“No,” she said, “it doesn’t.” She wasn’t accustomed to feeling this strongly about anything besides her work—certainly no man ever engendered this kind of response. It was a strange vocabulary, this kind of emotion, one with no words, no logic or syntax. How could she make sense of it?

She couldn’t. The thought made her stomach clench.

Once her business concluded, Charlie drifted over toward Jack and Eva, meticulously counting a stack of pound notes. A family could live for a year on the money Charlie held, the take from a single night’s work. Compared to the wages she might make in a factory or some other drudge work, it was no surprise a woman as clever and ruthless as Charlie would turn to criminal employment.

Charlie stowed the wad of cash. She glanced toward the ring, where more fighters took their positions. A man with a scraggly mustache collected bets—where on earth did the spectators find so much money, when it was clear from their grimy, threadbare clothing that they hadn’t much to spare?

“You better be prepared to pay, and well,” Charlie said. She sighed, watching the mustached man collecting wagers. “I’m losing the best part of my night.”

“Can’t you consider it a favor to Jack?” Eva asked, irritated. “Being old friends.”

“Even old friends got to pay,” Charlie replied.

Eva’s mouth twisted. “Sentimentality doesn’t have a high value.”

“Not with me, it don’t.” Charlie peered at Jack. “You know how it is, don’t you, Diamond?”

He gave a fatalistic shrug. “Nothing’s changed around here. But I’m short on funds right now. I’ll have to owe you, Charlie.”

The bookmaker grinned in a way Eva didn’t like at all. “Owing me is a recipe for trouble.”

“I’ll be sure you’re amply compensated,” Eva said tightly. Nemesis didn’t have a large budget—they pooled their funds from their sundry other employment—but if paying Charlie out of her own pocket kept Jack out of the bookmaker’s debt, Eva would gladly shoulder the cost. “The night’s moving quickly, so let’s get to business.”

“Normally I take all payment in advance,” Charlie drawled. “Given that Jack’s an old chum of mine, I’m willing to wait for the sake of—what’s the word you used?—sentimentality.”

“What a sterling example of benevolence,” Eva growled under her breath as Charlie led them out of the building.

The bookmaker picked her way through the yard full of detritus and debris, with Jack and Eva following. Jack kept his gaze moving and vigilant.

“Can we trust her?” Eva asked in a low voice.

“No,” he said without hesitation. “But Charlie’s the best. Anything you want, she can get. No questions asked.”

What had Charlie procured for Jack? “That must come in handy.”

“I ain’t going to tell her about Nemesis,” he said, frowning, “if that’s what’s got you fretting.”

They left the yard and trailed after Charlie through thick shadows congealed between ramshackle structures.

Eva whispered. “It’s you I’m concerned about. She could turn you in for a reward.”

“Only thing Charlie won’t do is rat someone out. Murder’s out, too,” he added.

“Well, that’s a relief,” she said tartly.

Jack glanced at her from the corner of his eye. “So, you’re worried about me.”

She didn’t miss the faint, very faint, note of hope in his voice. How many people had ever felt genuine concern for him? He’d been alone, reliant on no one, for most of his life. For all her parents’ preoccupation with helping others, she’d always known that they cared for her. Loved her.