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 Captivated
Stephanie Morris
 Captivated © 2023 Stephanie Morris
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reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any
information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are
used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events, or locales is entirely
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Table of Contents
Title Page

Copyright Page

Dedication

Captivated

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Epilogue

Newsletter | www.stephaniemorris.com/newsletter | About the Author

Read More from Stephanie Morris | Website

 Dedication
To the ARC reviewers who said that Trigger and Harley must have a story.
You were right...
 Captivated
A bond forged in the fires of danger becomes an unbreakable chain...
There’s no escaping...
Harley has had a rough life but tries to hide the shadows in her eyes with a smile. Her only goal in life is to build herself
back up. She is determined to avoid any distractions that get in her way. Regrettably, Trigger didn’t receive the memo...
Trigger never thought he’d live long enough to think twice about anything he’s done as the enforcer for the Ravens MC. But
that changes the instant he crosses paths with Harley. He’s seen the pain reflected in her gaze because, usually, he’s the one
inflicting it. But for once, he wants to be the one to soothe the hurt. So he doesn’t hesitate to offer his protection when danger
follows her into the haven she’s created for herself.
The only thing is, he doesn’t plan to walk away even once she is safe...
 Prologue
“Fuck, Harley. I’m sorry I couldn’t get back to you sooner.”
She stirred at the anguished voice that spoke, pain racing through her. When she moaned, a hand covered her mouth. Panic
filled her, and she tried to move away, only to cry out in pain.
“Shh...Harley. You have to be quiet. Let me help you before Ice comes back and finishes the job.”
She stiffened at the name of the man who tormented her for longer than she could remember being invoked.
“Do you understand?”
She gave a slight nod as she tried to open her eyes, only to find she couldn’t. Ice had hit her with his fist, evidently hard
enough to swell both of her eyes shut. Instead, she tried to focus on placing the voice, but she couldn’t.
“I need to move you. Do you think you can be quiet?”
She shook her head, knowing it was impossible. While she didn’t know where he would move her or how far, there was no
way she could keep from making any sound.
“Damn,” he muttered before the sounds of rustling reached her ears. “I have a bandana. It’s clean. I’m sorry that I have to
do this. Open.”
The material pressed against her lips was softer than she expected, but it was still uncomfortable.
“Bite down and try your best to stay quiet.”
That was as much warning as she received before being swept into someone’s arms. It took all of her strength not to
scream. But the way she stiffened must have been a clue.
“Just hang on. It won’t take long.”
Whoever the man was, he was a person of his word. A few minutes later, she was placed on a blanket in the back seat of a
car. She was covered with another light one before the door clicked closed. But instead of hearing a car start as she expected,
the person helping her climbed into the front, disengaged the parking brake, and the car began to roll.
After what seemed like an eternity, the car stopped, and then the ignition turned over. She didn’t miss her rescuers'
exhalation of relief before the car picked up speed.
“Let me get some distance between us and the compound, and then I will stop and try to make you more comfortable.
The irony of his statement struck her. She was in so much pain; the only way that would happen was if he could give her
something to make it all go away.
Flashbacks of the beating she’d been on the wrong end of began to roll back in her mind. Ice had always had a bad temper,
but something had set him off in a way she’d never experienced.
He’d entered the clubhouse and yelled for her. Realizing immediately that he was in a mood, she rushed over. Ice was
always mean if you made him wait. It hadn’t done any good. The first punch landed before she’d come to a stop in front of him.
Even if others had been surprised, no one dared come to her rescue or get in the way. Not even when she’d fallen to the
ground, and he’d kicked her.
Tears filled her eyes as she wondered how she’d sunk so low that this had become her life. How had she gotten mixed up
with a man like Ice? The unfortunate thing was once she had, there’d been no escape.
She’d tried...
Even then, that beating hadn’t been as bad as this one.
“Just a little bit further. Okay?”
She tried to speak to indicate that she understood, but it came out as a grunt. Tears filled her eyes, and she squeezed them
shut, allowing the moisture to escape and trail down her face. As she began to fade from consciousness, she made a vow to
find out who her savior was if she survived.
She needed to thank him for being brave enough, the one thing she’d never been able to do. Get away from Ice.
This person was taking a considerable risk. Everyone knew you didn’t cross Ice and live to tell the tale. She prayed that
both would have a different outcome than those who hadn’t.
 Chapter 1
Harley gasped as she sat upright, the horrible nightmare she’d just escaped fading to the background as she realized it was just
a dream. She slammed her hand against the mattress in frustration as she tried to calm her breathing.
All the progress she’d made over the past year had been wiped out in seconds. Most of them she couldn’t remember. She
swung her legs over the side of the bed and looked around the room she’d called hers since the Ravens had taken her in.
She chuckled under her breath at the description that severely downplayed how she’d come to be in the company of the
Ravens. Pushing herself into a standing position, she stretched before walking over to the small window and pushed the curtain
aside.
She hadn’t slept long. The sun was getting ready to set. Meaning she’d be on shift soon. That was the only reason she’d lie
down to nap. Raven parties had a way of not ending until the sun rose. She needed to be able to stay alert until things winded
down.
Walking back to the nightstand, she picked up her cell phone and confirmed that she had woken up earlier than planned.
Turning off the alarm she’d set, she gathered up her outfit for the night and the items she would need to shower before exiting
her room and heading toward the communal bathroom at the farthest end of the hall. It was the one least likely to be occupied.
Her bathroom streak of luck was still with her, and she hustled inside and locked the door. While she didn’t need to rush,
she wasn’t going to hog the bathroom like some of the other sweet butts did. Being a bitch for no reason didn’t appeal to her.
Not all of them were mean, but most were—especially if they saw you as competition.
After a quick shower, she brushed her teeth before changing into her standard work outfit. A graphic tank top and jeans. She
gathered her stuff and opened the door only to find a hand raised, ready to knock.
“Hey, Ginger,” Harley greeted.
“Hi, Harley. You’re up early,” she replied.
“Yeah, I didn’t sleep well, so I thought I’d take advantage of the empty bathroom,” she admitted.
Ginger frowned. “Everything okay?”
“All good,” she confirmed. “Now go on before someone is banging on the door before you are done.”
“Thank you. See you downstairs in a few.”
Harley entered her room and tossed her dirty clothes into the laundry basket before pulling a pair of clean socks out of her
drawer. Sitting on the edge of her bed, she kicked off her house shoes and pulled them on before sticking her feet into her
combat boots. Once they were laced, she located a brush and ran it through her still-damp hair before pulling it into a ponytail,
then twisting it upward, securing it with a clip.
A short time later, she headed downstairs and made her way through the clubhouse, greeting a few of the members and
prospects she saw on the way. She stepped behind the bar, and her mind went into work mode.
She began doing an inventory of what she needed to bring from the back. The irony of how comfortable she felt in this
environment was not lost on her, even after the complete shit show that had gone down about six months ago.
The Prez of the MC that Blue had grown up in had taken her. Fortunately, it hadn’t taken the Ravens long to get her back, but
she’d been banged up pretty well. Blue also hadn’t been the only victim. Santos, one of the Raven members, had been stabbed
in the chest, and Harley had received a hard knock to the back of the head, resulting in a mild concussion.
It was traumatic for everyone, but some good had come out of it. Blue had finally bit the bullet and said yes to being the old
lady of Stone and Rock, the Prez and V.P. of the Raven. Yes, both of them—a little unconventional. Then again, not much was
conventional in their world.
Blue married Rock three months ago, followed by a commitment ceremony to Stone. Harley hadn’t even tried to hide that
she’d cried her eyes out over how happy she was for her friend. She’d had a shitty life before the Ravens as well and deserved
all the happiness her heart could handle.
The only part of that day that had rattled Harley was that she’d ended up catching the bouquet even though she’d done
everything in her power not to. Even worse, Trigger, the biggest pain in her ass, had caught the garter without even trying. It
landed around the neck of the bottle of beer he’d held in his hands.
What she remembered most about that moment was his intense gaze as he removed the garter from his bottle before tucking
it into his back pocket. She’d turned red at the hoots and hollers that rang out but refused to turn tail and hide—even though she
should have.
After everything she’d gone through with Ice, she would never get involved with another man—let alone one that belonged
to an MC.
Unfortunately, Trigger didn’t understand that.
His face had been the first she’d been able to see after the swelling in her eyes had gone down. She would never forget it
because, as dangerous as he looked, a gentleness in his eyes made her feel safe. That made him even more of a threat than Ice.
She couldn’t recall when she felt safe or protected with the Vipers.
 When she came across Ice at the bar she’d worked at, she’d been at her lowest point. Barely had enough clothes to make it
through the week without washing, lived in a two-bedroom apart with five other people, and never went anywhere outside a
reasonable walking distance.
She realized now that Ice was a cold-blooded predator that had recognized it and taken full advantage of it. Never would
she be that vulnerable to another man. That’s why she had to stay far away from Trigger. He was a serious threat to that goal.
“What has you so deep in thought?”
Shock filled her at the sound of her friend’s voice. She spun around with wide eyes.
“Blue,” she exclaimed before embracing her friend. “Oh man, I’ve missed you. How was the trip? I wasn’t expecting you
back so soon?”
Blue squeezed her tightly before pulling back. “It went well. That’s why we are back early.”
Harley nodded, unable to stop smiling. She didn’t know all the details—nor did she want to—but she knew that the Ravens
had started making a few moves in the old Slayers territory. They were splitting it with the Undertakers.
Because the Slayers was the club that Blue formally belonged to, Stone and Rock strategically used her presence to ease
the way.
“We just made it back not too long ago, but I wanted to stop by and see you before you got too busy. Don’t be surprised if
you see me behind the bar tonight.”
“Ha!” Harley scoffed. “You will be lucky if Rock or Stone let you out of their presence long enough. It’s my understanding
that the honeymoon phase lasts at least a year.”
Blue shook her head before giving her another brief squeeze. “I’ve missed you. See you back here in a bit.”
“Sounds good. I need to get a move on, or Everest will have my ass. If you all are back, there’s going to be a party tonight.”
“Yes. There’s a lot to celebrate,” Blue replied cryptically as she walked away. “See you in a bit.”
Harley grinned as she wrote down the last thing she needed to stock on her notepad before looking at Candy. “Make sure
we have enough glasses while I go to the back and grab what we need.”
“On it,” Candy confirmed.
Harley’s steps were lighter as she went to the room where the extra liquor and beer were kept. It was going to be a fun
night.
 Chapter 2
Trigger rolled the cigar between his thumbs and fingers as he held it over the flame to ensure it was evenly lit before placing it
between his lips and taking a good draw. It felt good to be home again. More importantly, the shit that they’d needed to clean up
because of the Slayers was finally done. Not a moment too soon because that meant he could turn his attention to the woman
who needed it most—whether she realized it or not.
Life hadn’t been the same for him from the moment she was discovered outside the gate of the compound. The only thing
she’d been able to tell him that night was her name.
Harley.
Between that and the backpack that had been left with her, Link, the Ravens Secretary had been able to figure out the rest.
He still didn’t know how Harley had ended up mixed up with someone like Ice. The best he could figure was she hadn’t
known. Before her dealings with the Vipers Prez, Harley hadn’t seemed to have any connection to an MC. Ice had found the
perfect prey.
He wondered if she knew how lucky she was to have made it out alive. But according to Harley, she’d had help.
Otherwise, she wouldn’t have.
So far, Link couldn’t figure out who it could have been. But at least now, they had a detailed file on every member of the
Vipers. They couldn’t use any of it now because that would be declaring war. While he was more than willing to do so because
of what they’d done to Harley, he couldn’t ask the club to back him if he did.
There was something more important he had to take care of first...
He had to get Harley to accept his claim.
She was his and had been from the second he’d seen her. But the timing had been bad. Her body and mind had been broken
by a man who walked in the same world that he did. As kind and gentle as everyone had been to Harley, it had taken her
months to accept that the Ravens would hurt her the way the Vipers had.
In a way, she still hadn’t.
Harley tried to avoid him at all costs. She wasn’t rude or mean about it. She just gave him a wide birth. At first, he’d been
offended by her behavior, and then he’d realized why she’d singled him out. He was the biggest risk to her. The attraction
wasn’t one-sided, and that scared her. Not that he could blame her after her experience with Ice.
But he was nothing like that asshole. He didn’t believe in abusing women, and if your ass ended up on the wrong side of his
gun, you deserved it.
He’d had the chance to prove that to her six months ago when he’d taken care of her as she’d recovered from her
concussion. But the second she’d been cleared, she’d put even more distance between them. Something he hadn’t liked yet
hadn’t been able to do much about because they’d had club business to take care of.
With the Slayers out of the way, the Ravens and Undertakers had agreed to split their territory before anyone else could
move in. That also meant that they needed to create some additional alliances. Some voluntary and others by force. But with the
Undertakers and Ravens as a united front, the smaller MCs knew they didn’t stand a chance.
Regardless, as the club enforcer, he had to be there. It was his job to protect anyone wearing the patch. If someone had to
come to see him, the time for talking was over.
But that also meant that for the past three weeks, he hadn’t had enough time to slow down to corner Harley. He planned to
make good use of his time now that he was back. He’d been nice. Trying to give her time to come to grips with the inevitable
but that hadn’t worked out in either of their favor.
It was time he pulled a move out of the playbook that his Prez and V.P. had used with their old lady. Make it clear to her that
she was his, and things would be much easier for her if she just accepted that.
Blue had put up a hell of a fight before giving in, realizing that Stone and Rock would not let her go—nor did she want them
to.
The three of them had almost gotten on his nerves with their over-the-top happiness. But he wasn’t going to say shit because
soon enough, that would be him and Harley if he had anything to say about it.
“Stop smiling. You’re scaring everyone.”
Trigger chuckled as he pulled the cigar from his mouth and looked at Grimm. “Not everyone.”
Grimm stopped next to him and exhaled heavily before rolling his shoulders. The sound of bones cracking filled the air, and
Trigger shook his head.
“You really should see Doc about that?”
“Getting old?” Grimm scoffed. “Doc will just laugh his ass off and send me away with a bottle of whiskey.”
“Nah. His ass is too cheap for that. You would only get a six-pack of generic beer at most.”
Grimm laughed as he leaned up a post. “I’ll make sure to tell him you said that.”
Trigger groaned. “Don’t. He is still pissed at me about questioning his treatment plan for Harley.”
 Grimm cleared his throat. “Speaking of, are you making an official claim?”
Tension filled Trigger, and he took a draw off his cigar to control it. “You challenging it?”
“Fuck no,” Grimm replied with a choked laugh. “I like all of my organs where they are. But your ass was moody as shit the
entire time we were away. Time for you to do something about that, don’t you think?”
“No, you are just a nosey asshole who probably lost a bet and had to come out here to give me your version of a pep talk.”
He paused to inhale deeply before releasing the smoke. “Which sucks ass by the way.”
Grimm shot him the finger. “Fuck you. If your ass weren’t so grumpy, I wouldn’t have to do this sort of shit.”
Trigger shook his head over the fact that he’d pretty much predicted what had happened. “Don’t worry, I’ll be making my
move.”
Grimm grinned. “This shit is going to be more interesting than watch than Stone, Rock, and Blue were.”
“Fuck you. What’s the bet?”
Grimm frowned. “What?”
Trigger’s eyebrows rose high on his forehead. “Don’t play dumb. I know there’s money floating around over how things
will do down between me and Harley.”
Grimm shook his head. “No one is betting against you. We know you’re relentless, and so does Harley. While she won’t go
down without a fight, she knows you are good together.”
“So there is a wager?”
“Paranoid fucker,” Grimm grumbled as he pushed away from the wall. “There isn’t a bet against the two of you getting
together.” He stepped over the threshold of the clubhouse before pausing. “However, there is one about the number of times she
will try to shoot you with your gun before you lock her down.”
This time, Trigger laughed even though he knew he probably shouldn’t. A few months ago, Harley made the threat during
one of their altercations. The irony was she was probably the only woman bold enough to make good on it if she could.
For some reason, that turned him on way more than it should.
He was so fucked...
 Chapter 3
Harley hummed under her breath as she popped the caps off a couple of beers before placing them on a tray. Then she poured
six shots of tequila and sat them down.
“Thanks, Harley,” Candy called out.
“No problem,” Harley replied on autopilot, her mind already on the next set of drinks.
“Harley!”
She looked up at the sound of someone yelling her name, ready to tear their ass a new one, when she spotted Roman, one of
the prospects.
“What’s up?” she asked, not bothering to hide her puzzlement as he stepped behind the bar.
“Everest sent me over to relieve you for your break. Said Blue’s asking for you.”
She looked over and spotted her friend sitting at the table that she usually occupied. Blue gave a small wave, and Harley
grinned.
“Seven beers and three whiskey and cokes for Axel’s table,” she called out over her shoulder as she grabbed a beer, then
stepped out from behind the bar and headed toward the only true friend she had in the world.
While she didn’t drink much, every once in a while, she had a taste for hops, so she indulged.
“I’ve missed you,” she admitted as she sat down.
“Me, too,” Blue stated as she reached across the table and squeezed Harley’s hand. “You look more rested than when we
left.”
Harley shook her head as she scoffed. “I don’t know how.”
“The dreams are back?” Blue probed.
“More like nightmares,” Harley grumbled. “What gets me is that it’s not about our attack. It’s about the night that Ice almost
killed me.”
“It makes sense,” Blue replied. “I had nightmares for weeks. I scared the hell out of Rock and Stone. I’m better now, but I
still have moments. Had a few during the trip with the memories that it stirred up.”
Harley’s eyes widened. “Damn. I didn’t even think about that. Are you okay?”
Blue smiled as she bit her lip bottom lip. “I had a bit of good news to keep me distracted the entire time.”
Harley scowled playfully. “You’d better not start bragging about all of the great sex you are having with Rock and Stone
again.”
Blue laughed. “No. It’s more than that.” Blue leaned closer to her. “I’m pregnant,” she revealed right as a raucous cheer
from the men filled the room.
It took a minute for the words to sink in, but the second they did, Harley screamed as she jumped to her feet. A second later,
Blue joined her, and they embraced.
“I’m going to be an aunt,” Harley exclaimed.
Blue laughed as she squeezed her tighter. “And a kickass one at that.”
Harley was surprised when tears filled her eyes. “Shit, Blue. You are making me all emotional. You know I hate that.”
Blue cupped Harley’s face between her palms and brushed away the tear that escaped. “I know, but if there was ever a
reason for you to shed happy tears, this is it.”
Harley looked down to get a better look at her friend. “How are you feeling? Any morning sickness? When did you find
out?”
“I’ll answer all of your questions,” Blue replied. “But first.”
Harley was shocked when Blue placed her hands on her stomach. There was a slight curve there.
“You’re already showing?”
Blue nodded. “A little. That’s why we rushed the trip a little. Rock figured it out before I did. According to him, I’ve been
insatiable, and my breasts are sensitive as hell.” Blue stepped back and motioned for them to retake their seats. “Once we did
the math, we realized that between our wedding night and honeymoon, Stone knocked me up. So, we had to start the territory
takeover as quickly as possible. Rock and Stone were nervous about me being out and pregnant.”
Harley laughed. “Damn. You are in trouble. Rock will chomp at the bit as soon as you pop this one out.”
Blue shook her head as she rolled her eyes. “You know those jerks entirely too well. But you are right. The assholes have a
bet going between the two of them. I’ve already talked to Doc about birth control. I’m not having two babies back-to-back.”
“Ha! Good luck,” Harley teased.
“Don’t jinx me. Please,” Blue begged. “It truly was a surprise. I was barely off birth control, and I didn’t think the timing
was right. It appears it was. Stone, Rock, and I wanted to keep it to ourselves a little longer, but we knew we could only keep
it under wraps for so long.”
“But you’re feeling okay?”
 She nodded. “Rock and Stone don’t allow me to ask for anything. Other than the fact that I am always sleepy now, I can’t
complain. No morning sickness. Just sore boobs and can’t get enough sex.”
Harley grimaced. “Okay. Enough with the oversharing.”
Blue chuckled. “So, I guess I can’t expect you to be in the delivery room?”
“There won’t be enough space. Rock and Stone will be there.”
Blue shook her head. “I need you on standby. One of them is going to get queasy or pass out. You saw how they were when
I was injured.”
“I can honestly say that I don’t think I will do any better, but if you need me to be there, I will be.”
Blue reached out and squeezed her hand. Several seconds of quiet passed between them. This was the last thing she’d
expected to hear from her friend tonight, but she was so happy for her.
“I am so happy for you, Blue,” she whispered.
“Thank you. Now you know what this means, right?”
Harley reached for her beer and rolled her eyes. “Just made it back and already starting shit.”
“Not me,” Blue replied, holding her hands up innocently. “Only stating the obvious. Trigger kept tabs you on the entire
time.”
Harley sat up straighter in her chair. That was news to her. “He did?”
“Yep,” Blue nodded as she sipped her water. “Checked on you at least once a day. Put the man out of his misery. The two of
you are made for each other.”
Harley shook her head. “Look, I know I gave you a lot of shit about Rock and Stone when they were after you, but that was
different.”
“How?” Blue asked.
Harley opened her mouth to respond, but no sound came out, and Blue chuckled.
“Exactly. The man has you at a loss for words. You always have something to say.”
“Kiss my ass,” she grumbled.
“Trigger might have something to say about that,” Blue countered.
Harley sat back in her chair and folded her arms across her chest. “That asshole has a lot to say about everything, and I’m
sick of it. He’s trouble and a threat to everything I’ve managed to rebuild.”
Blue’s expression softened, and Harley groaned. “No. Don’t give me that look.”
“If anyone understands your fear, it’s me,” Blue stated softly.
Harley shook her head. “I can’t. While it may only seem like I’m joking when I say that I will shoot Trigger with his own
gun, I’m not. If he did something to hurt me, I wouldn’t hesitate to kill him.”
“I know,” Blue agreed. “So does he, but you are forgetting something important. Trigger would never do anything to hurt
you, and he’d kill anyone if they tried.”
Harley pressed her lips together to keep from responding. Her friend was right, and there was no use in denying it.
Another random document with
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“Why didn’t Rich keep in wid youse?”
“He said he wanted to meet Darwin. He was in a very nervous
condition, and another thing I saw that he had been drinking heavily.
“Well, he got out, and I kept on the bloke’s trail.
“Finally the first cab stopped at the corner of Broadway and
Sixteenth Street.
“My cab stopped on the next corner.
“I got out in a hurry, and I saw an old man get out of the other cab.”
“Wot was de number of de cab youse was in?”
“Number one hundred and forty-seven.”
“All right.”
“As I said, an old man got out of the other cab. I got close up to him
when he was paying the driver, and I heard him tell the man that he
would not need him any longer.
“As the old bloke walked off I noticed that he had the lock step.”
“You don’t say!” interposed Nick.
“I do. At first I was not sure, but as I followed him and noted every
action, I knew that he had been a guest at the big hotel up the river.
He looked respectable enough, but there was the stamp of the
prison on him.
“I followed the old fellow around all evening. He stopped in at a
number of places and he seemed to be looking for some one.
“About ten o’clock he entered a restaurant on Sixth Avenue, and sat
down at one of the tables.
“I went to the office of the district messenger company, wrote a note,
and sent it to Rich, asking him to meet me at McKeever’s place.
“In a short time he and Darwin met me in the saloon.
“We all had a drink.
“Then Rich listened to what I had to say about the old man.
“When we got outside of the saloon Rich said that he wouldn’t need
me any more that night, but he might the next day.”
“And youse went off to blow in de hundred plunks?”
“Of course I did.”
“Den youse don’ know wot Rich an’ Darwin did?”
“I surmise.”
“Wot?”
“Rich and Darwin followed the old cove until they cornered him at the
Red Dragon Inn.”
“Yes.”
“Then Rich got into the place and—you can imagine the rest.”
“Youse don’t know fer a certainty?”
“I didn’t see it done.”
“Was Rich familiar with the Red Dragon Inn?”
“Darwin told me that he used to go there years ago.”
Carter had stopped using the tough vernacular, but Brockey did not
notice it.
The detective was slightly disappointed. He thought at first that
Brockey knew more about the crime. But still, the rascal’s evidence
would show that Rich and Darwin had said that they would follow the
old man.
“Did Darwin tell you whether he or Rich followed the old man after
you left them?” Carter asked.
“He did not,” Brockey replied. “But I guess Rich was the one.”
“What makes you think so?”
“Didn’t you read about what the bartender had to say?”
“You mean about the tall man who entered the barroom after the old
man?”
“Yes.”
“Is that all you know?”
“It is, Mugsey.”
“I think you know more.”
“No.”
Carter, while he was talking, rose from his chair, holding one of his
hands in the side pocket of his coat.
Brockey did not move.
Even when the detective drew up near to him he did not suspect that
he was in any danger. He poured out another glass full of liquor and
drank it.
As he was in the act of placing the glass back on the table Carter
caught hold of him, and, before he could move or utter a word, the
detective had the handcuffs clasped around his wrists.
“What does this mean?” Brockey ejaculated, with a fierce oath, and,
as he tried to jump to his feet, he faced the pistol which Carter
pointed at him.
The detective pulled off his disguise.
Brockey recognized him. He uttered a cry of terror, his face turned
pale with alarm, and he sank down into his chair.
“Carter!” he gasped.
“Yes, and you’re my prisoner,” the detective smilingly replied.
“I’m done for.”
“There is not the slightest room for doubt, my dear Brockey.”
“I never thought I’d be taken in in such a way—curse the luck!”
“There will be no chance for you to escape this time.”
“If I had suspected——”
“You would have tried to have killed me.”
“I would.”
From his pocket Nick pulled out a silk cord.
With it he bound Brockey’s arms and legs so tight that there was no
chance for the rascal to escape.
“What are you going to do with me?” Brockey asked, when Carter
had finished binding him.
“I am going to let you remain here for the present,” the detective
answered.
“Alone?”
“Oh, no!”
Brockey subsided into sullen silence, and glared fiercely at Carter.
Inwardly he cursed him.
The detective walked to the door and unlocked and opened it. Then
he stepped out into the hall and gave a peculiar whistle.
In a few minutes Patsy bounded up the stairs from the floor below.
“What do you want, Mr. Carter?” the young man asked as he
confronted his chief.
“I have a prisoner in that room,” Carter replied, pointing toward the
room. “I want you to guard him.”
“I’ll do it.”
“See that you do, Patsy. If he should escape, my case might be
ruined.”
“He won’t get a chance to escape.”
“I hope not.”
“Who is it?”
“Brockey Gann.”
“Gee!”
“You know him?”
“I should say I do.”
“He is a dangerous rascal.”
“I’d like to have the honor of capturing him. I don’t see how you
accomplished it.”
“I tricked him.”
The young man entered the room and inspected Brockey.
Carter loitered outside in the hall for a few minutes and then he
commenced to descend the stairs. He had considerable faith in his
young assistant, and he was confident that Patsy would guard the
prisoner as well as he would himself.
In that respect his mind was easy.
In the lower hall he made a few changes in his disguise and then he
left the house.
He went up to the Grand Central Station and commenced to inspect
the cabmen.
At last he found cab No. 147.
“Hello! How are you?”
The man looked at him for a moment and then exclaimed:
“Hello! How are ye?”
“Pretty well.”
“Did you stick to the trail of that old bloke the other night?”
“Yes.”
Carter had made himself up in such a manner that he looked like
Brockey. He was delighted when the cabman recognized him as the
thug.
“Who was he?” the cabby asked, after a silence.
“He was the man who was murdered at the Red Dragon Inn.”
“You are joking!”
“I am not,” protested Nick.
“I wouldn’t like to stand in your shoes.”
“Why not?”
“The fly cops’ll get on to your following the old cove.”
“They won’t if you don’t tell.”
“I might make some money by telling.”
“You won’t do that?”
“Why shouldn’t I?”
“You’ll get an innocent man into a hole.”
“That’s so. But, I say, where’s the tall mug?”
“Who do you mean?”
“I mean the man who employed me.”
“I thought you knew him?”
“No, I don’t,” said the cabman. “He just picked me up here at the
depot and he ordered me to follow the other mug.
“I thought he was a detective.”
“You know who he is?”
“Honestly, I do not.”
“Would you call on him if I should give you his name and address?”
“Of course, I would.”
“What will you do?”
“I’ll make him come down with the rocks.”
“Will you whack up with me?”
“Of course I will.”
“You’ll play square?”
“I swear it.”
“His name is Simeon Rich, and he lives in the Studio Building, at the
corner of Broadway and Thirty-first Street.”
“Gosh!”
“What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to get some one to mind my rig and I’m going to call on
Mr. Rich.”
“I’ll see you downtown.”
Carter hurried away. He stopped at a saloon and made a change in
his disguise in the back room.
When he came out he was just in time to see cabby No. 147 making
a bee line down Park Avenue. He started after him.
What object had Carter in view when he gave Rich’s name and
address to the cabman?
 CHAPTER XIII.
BLACKMAIL.

The cabman did not allow the grass to grow under his feet.
It did not take him long to reach the Studio Building.
“He’s a rascal,” Carter commented, as he tracked the cabman; “I can
make use of him.”
The detective was amused.
That he had formulated some shrewd move was quite certain from
the manner in which he was acting.
The cabman entered the Studio Building.
Carter was close behind him.
Not for an instant did the man suspect that he was the person who
had given Rich’s name and address to him.
“Does Mr. Rich live here?” the cabman asked of the elevator boy.
Carter was standing in the elevator, and he heard what was said.
“Mr. Rich lives on the top floor,” the boy replied to the cabman.
“Is he in?” the cabman inquired, getting into the elevator.
“You can go up and see.”
“All right.”
When the top floor was reached the elevator boy pointed out Rich’s
room.
The cabman hurried up and knocked on the door.
Carter walked leisurely down the hall. He halted halfway down and
looked out of the window. He stood in such a position that he was
able to see the cabby.
Three times the driver pounded on the door without receiving a
response.
The fourth time he knocked as if he were going to break in a panel.
Some one opened the door.
Carter could not see who it was from where he was standing, but he
heard the cabman exclaim:
“I want to see Mr. Simeon Rich.”
“He isn’t in,” a female voice replied.
Carter did not recognize it, but he surmised that it belonged to either
Sally Rich or Isabella Porter.
“I want to see him, miss,” the cabby insolently said. “If he isn’t in I’ll
wait until he comes.”
“Who are you?” the woman within the room asked.
“It doesn’t matter who I am.”
“It doesn’t, eh? Well, I guess it does.”
“Is Rich in there? If he is, tell him that the cabman who drove him
about town on the day before New Year’s wants to see him.”
“Let him come in,” a man’s voice called out from the interior of the
room.
The coachman pushed by the woman and entered the apartment.
Instantly the door was closed.
Carter hurried up to the door.
A transom was above it.
It was halfway open.
Reaching up, Carter caught hold of the edge of the sill under the
transom and pulled himself up until he was able to peer into the
room. He beheld Rich and Darwin seated on divans at the side, and
two women lolling back in steamer chairs. The cabman was standing
in the center of the apartment gazing boldly at Rich.
“What do you want?” Rich demanded, in a stern tone, as he glared
at the cabby.
“Do you want me to talk out before these people?” the cabby asked,
looking around the room at those present and waving his hand
toward them.
“I have no secrets from them.”
“You haven’t, eh?”
“No.”
“Then you must all be in the same boat. This is rich graft.”
“What do you mean?”
Rich uttered an oath and sprang up. He realized that the cabby knew
something. He was enough of a student of human nature to read the
man’s intentions in the expression of his face.
The cabman did not flinch.
“I guess you’ll come to time, Mr. Rich,” he insolently remarked, with a
sneer.
Rich stood within a few feet of him. He raised his arm above his
head, as if he intended to strike the man, but thinking better of it, he
allowed it to drop to his side again, and he muttered an oath.
Cabby was no fool. He knew what was in Rich’s mind.
“If you had tried to strike me then I’d have floored you,” he growled.
“And it is well for you that you did not try it on.”
Rich made no reply. He only glared at the cabby in silence.
His face was as dark as night.
Carter hung on to the sill. He had viewed the scene through the
transom, and he had heard every word that had been uttered.
His arms were aching. He was forced to let go his hold.
Without making a noise he dropped to the floor.
Now he stood outside the door and listened.
At last he heard Rich exclaim:
“Speak out, sir, and tell me how you learned my name and address?”
“I’m not giving my friends away,” the cabby replied.
“What do you want?”
“Money.”
“Money!”
“Yes.”
“What for?”
“To keep my tongue from wagging.”
“I——”
“You understand me, Mr. Rich. The man whom you tracked from the
Grand Central on the day before New Year’s was the man who was
murdered at the Red Dragon Inn.”
Carter had raised himself up again so that he was peering through
the transom when the cabman uttered these words.
Rich did not start. He displayed not the least sign of fear. He glanced
at the man with a sinister expression upon his darkly handsome
face.
“I am aware of that,” he replied, in cold, harsh tones.
“You are a good bluffer, Rich,” the cabby remarked, and he smiled.
It was as good as looking at a play to watch these two men.
Both now had their tempers under command.
“You call me a bluffer,” Rich retorted.
“I do,” cabby rejoined. “I am not afraid of you. I will go to the police
and inform them that you tracked Lawrence on the day before New
Year’s, and you hired one of the worst thugs in the city to keep on his
trail. Carter would reward me liberally for this information.”
“You are a scoundrelly blackmailer.”
“I acknowledge the corn. I’ve got you in a corner and you will have to
pay——”
“Not one cent will I give you.”
“Think twice, Mr. Rich.”
“Be careful, Sim.”
It was one of the women who spoke. She had come up to Rich’s side
and laid her hand gently upon his arm.
The man glanced at her and said:
“I know what I am about, Sally.”
Carter knew from this that the woman was Rich’s sister. The other
woman he surmised was Isabella Porter.
A broad grin spread over the cabby’s face.
“Yes, be careful, Mr. Rich,” he sneered. He was becoming more
insolent the longer he waited.
Rich wheeled around. His large, black eyes were flashing, his face
was aflame with passion.
“You be careful,” he hissed between his clenched, white teeth, and
he drew his arm back.
Sally threw herself between her brother and the cabman.
“Sim,” she ejaculated, “calm yourself.”
“Yes, calm yourself, my covey,” cabby repeated with a chuckle.
Rich bit the ends of his mustache and glared. He was making a
desperate effort to keep calm. A silence followed.
Cabby kept his eyes on Rich.
When he saw that Simeon was not going to speak he said:
“Let us get down to business, Rich. There is no use of trying to bluff
me. I’m too old a bird to stand any kind of a jolly.
“I can read your character, and you ought to be able to read mine.
“If I should go to the police with the information which I possess, you
know they would come down on you heavily.”
“Wait one moment.”
“Let me finish.
“I have no desire to injure you if you treat me halfway decently.
“Times have been very bad with me lately, and I need money.
“I feel convinced that you and your friends have gained by the death
of old Lawrence.
“In to-day’s paper was published an account of the Lawrence will
case, and it was suggested that a search be made for you and the
wife and daughter of the murdered man.
“The police do not know where you are.
“They have no evidence against you.
“But I can furnish that evidence.
“Now, how much is it worth to you for me to keep silent?”
The cabby spoke calmly and deliberately. Rich followed him closely.
He frowned, and his fingers worked nervously, as if he were desiring
to spring upon the man and strangle him. He did not reply for some
moments. He looked around at Darwin and the women.
“What shall I do?” was in his eyes.
“Pay,” Darwin said, alarmed.
Rich turned his eyes on the cabman.
“How much do you want?” he asked.
“One thousand dollars,” cabby coolly replied, without changing an
expression.
“Absurd!”
“No, it is not.”
“It is.”
“To keep me quiet one thousand dollars is a small sum.”
“How do I know, if I do pay you this sum, that you will not give me
away, anyhow?”
“I never go back on my word.”
“I will give you five hundred.”
“Not a cent less than a thousand.”
“I can’t give you any such sum as that to-day.”
“I won’t be hard on you.”
“Thank you.”
“You don’t mean that. I’ll take part on account.”
“I’ll give you one hundred.”
“Make it three.”
“I can’t, I tell you.”
“I’ll take the century.”
“Here it is.”
“Now, when will you pay the balance?”
“To-morrow.”
“Shall I call here?”
“No; I will send the money to you.”
“At my stand?”
“Yes.”
“What time?”
“Noon.”
“Very well.”
“It’ll be on hand.”
“See that it is.”
“What is your name?”
“Pete McCree.”
“What is the number of your cab?”
“Number one hundred and forty-seven.”
Cabby started toward the door.
Before he turned around, Carter dropped. He ran toward the
elevator, which he reached before the door of the room was opened.
While standing with his back turned he changed his disguise.
Then he got into the elevator.
As soon as the detective reached the street he halted near the
entrance.
When McCree came out he walked up to him and tapped him on the
shoulder.
“Hello!” McCree ejaculated.
“I’m on hand,” Carter remarked.
“So I see.”
“How much did you get?”
“Not much.”
“How much?”
“One hundred bones.”
“Why didn’t you make him pay more?”
“He couldn’t produce to-day, but he will do so to-morrow.”
“I get half.”
“Certainly.”
“You are square.”
“I’ll get this note changed.”
“I’ll change it.”
“Have you got fifty?”
“Yes.”
“Here’s the century.”
Carter took the bill and handed the cabby back fifty dollars.
“Now let me give you a piece of advice,” he said.
“What is it?” McCree asked.
“Keep out of risky places to-night and be on your guard.”
“Why?”
“You are dealing with desperate men.”
“I am aware of that, pard.”
“Rich may employ some one to try and put you out of the way.”
“You should have seen how he acted.”
“I can imagine what he said.”
“I’d like to know what kind of a game he and those others are
playing?”
“So would I.”
“I’ve got to get back to the stand. I’ll see you to-morrow.”
Carter shook hands with the rascally cabman, and they separated.
The detective hastened away.
Half an hour later he was ushered into the presence of the cashier of
the safe deposit company.
“Have you discovered a clew?” the cashier asked.
“I’ll reply to that question as soon as you have answered a few
queries which I am going to put to you,” the detective said.
“What is it?”
“You said that you gave Mr. Lawrence new bills.”
“I did.”
“Do you remember the numbers?”
“I can tell you in a moment.”
The cashier walked over to a desk, picked up a slip of paper,
referred to it and said:
“They were from 177865B to 177870B.”
“Keno!” Carter shouted. He held in his hand the note which Rich had
given to the cabman. He was looking at it when the cashier read the
numbers.
“What is the matter?” the cashier asked.
“Do you see this bill?” Carter said, as he held the bill out for the
cashier to inspect.
“Gracious! Captain, that note is numbered one hundred and seventy-
seven thousand eight hundred and sixty-nine B! That is one of the
bills which I gave to Mr. Lawrence!”
“Will you swear to that?”
“I will. That is one of the bills.”
“Thank you.”
The two men were silent.
 CHAPTER XIV.
TIGHTENING THE COILS.

The cashier of the safe deposit company kept gazing in silence at

Carter with open-mouthed astonishment.
Nick’s countenance was illumined with an expression of triumph. He
held in his hand damaging evidence against Simeon Rich.
If Rich were innocent of the murder, how was it that he had in his
possession one of the bills which the cashier of the safe deposit
company had paid to the man who had been so cruelly murdered at
the Red Dragon Inn?
“This is a valuable clew,” the detective said, when the silence was
becoming oppressive.
“How did that bill come into your possession?” the cashier asked.
“I think you can keep a secret?”
“I can.”
“Then I will tell you.”
Then Carter gave the cashier a short account of the evidence which
he had collected.
When the detective finished the cashier remarked:
“Captain, you are gradually weaving the coils around Simeon Rich.”
“Yes,” Carter replied, “I am weaving coils around him, but I have no
positive evidence that he committed the crime.”
“That note?”
“Not positive. If he has others of the series in his possession, then
the coil will be stronger around him.”
“I understand. What move will you make next?”
“I cannot determine just now.”
Carter was elated over the discovery.
After leaving the cashier’s office he went direct to the house on
Fourth Street.
Here he found that Brockey was still a prisoner.
His young assistant was on guard.
“Brockey,” said the detective, as he stood in front of the prisoner,
“have you spent all the money that Darwin gave you?”
“What’s that to you?” Brockey snarled, being in an ugly mood.
And no wonder!
Who could blame him?
Brockey was by no means a stoic or a philosopher. His was a nature
which would brood on troubles.
There was bitter hatred and malice in every flash of his eye. No love
there, no appreciation of the detective’s ability!
Carter gazed down into that dark countenance. He read the man’s
thoughts.
“If you have any of that money left,” Carter replied, in a serious tone,
“some of it may be bills which were stolen from the murdered man.
“I have the numbers of those bills in my possession.”
Instantly the expression on Brockey’s face changed.
A look of terror came over it.
It had not occurred to him before that the money might have
belonged to the man who was killed at the Red Dragon Inn.
“Do you understand?” Carter asked at length, when Brockey made
no reply.
“I understand,” the rascal said, with a gasp.
“If you should have one of those bills on you, and if it should be
identified as belonging to Lawrence, then, if I were so inclined, I
could fix the murder on you.”
“You would not do that?”
“No, I would not.”
“I have some of the money.”
“Is it in your pocket?”
“Yes.”
Carter put his hand into Brockey’s trousers pocket and pulled out a
small roll of bills. He ran the money over and found one of the series.
“This is one,” he remarked, holding the bill up for Brockey to inspect.
“My God!” the rascal ejaculated.
“You will have to tell now in court how this came into your
possession.”
“I’ll tell quick enough.”
“I guess you will.”
“Let me look at the number.”
“See?”
“I do.”
The rest of the money the detective gave to Brockey.
The bill he marked and put away in his pocketbook with the others.
The evidence against Rich was stronger.
But still more evidence was needed before a case could be proven.
Carter left the house.
Slowly he walked through to Broadway, and when he reached that
thoroughfare he halted on the corner and reviewed the events of the
past few days. He was forced to acknowledge in spite of himself that
the evidence against Simeon Rich was strong.
But still he was not satisfied.