Chapter Four

New York City, 1902

Tuesday, Day Three

Late Morning

Johnny Tornado, as he'd come to be called, was living his dream. A dream of a street urchin perhaps, but a dream none the less. He was a member of the Eastman Gang, and in fact, was the youngest lieutenant the gang had ever seen. It may not have been the gang he fantasized about, but a gang was a gang. What really mattered to Johnny was the power.

Which was why he'd risen through the ranks so quickly to become one of Monk Eastman's right hand men. It was all about power. If he'd been born on the other side of the tracks, he'd probably be chasing the same dream through a different venue. Politics or business, things that were unattainable to those who grew up in the slums.

But, whether or not the cutthroat world of politics would have been enough to quench his insatiable thirst for power, he didn't know. Little did it matter though, because he had all the power he needed.

Johnny had spent the first part of his life growing up on the wrong side of the Bowery; although, to say there is a wrong side, is to say there is right side, and that fact is, at the very least, questionable. He'd made the best of his situation, learning to fight, and learning to lead, or, maybe, not so much lead as terrify people into following. But the only thing that mattered to him was that they were following, and they wouldn't dare question his leadership.

Which was why the thought of someone not cowering in fear at his name was enough to put him in a foul mood. And that, in turn, was enough to keep anybody with half a brain away from him.

"Hey, Johnny… you busy?"

Unfortunately for him, most of the gang's younger members could only hold claim to a fourth of a brain, at the most.

"Not now, Rags," he said, not bothering to turn around.

"But, uh, Johnny –"

Apparently, this kid couldn't hold claim to any brain at all. Johnny turned, glaring at the boy without answering. Luckily, the kid caught on.

"Never mind, Mr. Tornado," he said, before turning on his heel and dashing out the door.

Johnny rolled his eyes, propping his feet up on the table he was sitting at, as the bar girl glared at him. He smirked at her, daring her to defy him. She didn't say a word. Johnny's smirk etched a bit deeper.

Bolt had gotten up early the next morning, intending on going to see Hannah before he began his job search again. Unfortunately, it had been three whole hours since he'd awoke and all he'd managed to do was argue with Elisabeth.

"Ellie, please, I just want to see her." Bolt ran his hand through his tousled hair, irritation showing in his eyes. "She'll be going to work, soon, anyways, won't she?"

Elisabeth had her arms crossed in front of her chest, looking haughtily at him. "No, actually, she won't. She's not going in today. Mr. Morrison gave her a paid leave of absence."

Bolt's eyebrows shot up at that. "Why?" he asked.

Elisabeth clamped her mouth shut, regretting that she'd allowed that information to slip out.

Before Elisabeth could try to cover up her slip, a second female voice could be heard. "Ellie, let me out, I want to talk to Elijah," Hannah said, her voice coming out from behind her sister.

Elisabeth scowled, but stepped aside, out of the doorway. "Don't be long, Hannah."

Hannah nodded, stepping out on the stoop, and pulling the front door closed behind her.

The moment he saw her face, Bolt's eyes were filled with concern. "Hannah! What happened?!" he asked, reaching forward, his fingers brushing lightly across the square of white gauze that was taped in place.

Hannah reached up, taking his hand in hers. "Let's walk," she said, leading him away from the steps.

Bolt followed in silence, but couldn't remain that way for long, "Hannah?" He asked gently. "What happened?"

Hannah led them to a bench and took a seat before pulling him down beside her. Once they were settled, she answered his question. "At the store yesterday, someone through a brick through the front window."

"What?!" he asked, obviously surprised. "Why would anybody do that? Are you hurt bad?"

Hannah shook her head, her heart torn in two. Part of her wanted to fall into his embrace, just so she could just feel safe again. The other part was feeling immensely hurt – that somehow this was all tied back to him. "I was wondering the same thing, Elijah, but then I found this. It was wrapped around the brick."

She pulled the crumpled piece of paper from her pocket and unfolded it. She cleared her throat before she began to read the note out loud. "If Bolt wants to keep you alive, he should be at the Bluebird Café, nine o'clock, tomorrow night." She paused for a moment, refusing to look up and meet his eyes. "Who's after you, Elijah? Who gave you that black eye? And why did you lie to me about it?"

Bolt leaned against the back of the bench, dragging his hand across his face. He considered her questions before venturing an answer. "I shouldn't have lied. I'm sorry."

Hannah could feel the tear prickling in her eyes and swallowed hard, angry at herself for wanting to cry. She attempted to get her emotions under control before speaking again. "I know you're sorry," she began slowly, "but I'm not sure if that's good enough." She paused, shaking her head twice, as if to clear it.

Bolt sat forward, reaching across, and taking her chin in his hand, forcing her to look at him for the first time that morning. "Hannah. I'm so sorry. I never meant for this to happen. I—" his voice broke, as he caught the look of utter hurt in her eyes. "I don't know how else to say it. I need you to trust me right now. I'm going to disappear for a few days and I need you to stay inside. Stay with Ellie, ok?"

Hannah shook her head, a single tear escaping her eye, making its way down her cheek. Bolt was still holding her face in his hands and he used his thumb to wipe the tear away. "Please," he said, dropping his head so that his forehead rested against hers. He closed his eyes, praying she would understand, "please trust me."

A minute passed, while they both sat in silence, before Hannah pulled away from him. She rose from her seat, without a word. Bolt stood as well, and wrapped his arms around her, her body stiffening in his hold. He held her for a minute before she finally relaxed, pulling back slightly, and cupping the back of his neck with her hands. "Be careful," she said, her tears now flowing freely, "just be careful."

Bolt nodded, leaning down, slightly, his lips meeting hers in a bittersweet kiss, neither of them caring that they were standing in the middle of a busy street. Bolt finally pulled back, searching her eyes. "Don't go out until you hear from me, alright?"

Hannah nodded, reluctant to release him. "Make sure that I hear from you," she answered, searching his eyes in return, hoping for some reassurance.

Bolt gently tugged her arms from around his neck, holding her hands for a moment longer, before he stepped back. He nodded towards her boarding house. "You'll be hearing from me. Stay inside," he repeated one last time, before she turned, and hurried back to her front door.

She allowed herself one more glance at him, before letting the door close behind her.