Sarah took the book from Will, an eyebrow raised in curious delight and one corner of her mouth tugging up in a smile.

"I have several favorites, but, it was 'I Hear America Singing' that hooked me. It was my father's favorite. He read it on the boat from Ireland, and that was his vision of America. He had it framed on our wall. I read it every day, meaning to or not."

With looks like his, Sarah wouldn't have taken Will for much of a reader. His reply surprised her, and left the lingering grin on her face as she began to deal the cards around the table.

"My Dad was killed a few months ago. He ran a gang out of the Upper East Side; controlled pretty much the entire territory. Right after I turned 18, someone grabbed me right off the street; forced me to work as a waitress and dancer in this shitty club in New Jersey. I guess Dad tried to find me, but he was killed before anything came up. Now, there are several factions trying to take control of my Dad's fortune and territory. Someone is trying to kill me so that I can't get to the money."

She finished dealing the cards and settled into a chair with her hand.

"A man named Mike Riddle worked with my Dad...I don't really understand what they were doing, but he promised my Dad he'd find me. It was Mike who got me away from the club; but while we were trying to get to New York, he disappeared one night. Walked out of the room to get something, and never came back."

For a few moments, she pretended to look over her hand; but she already knew her first play. Glancing over the fanned out cards in her hand, she studied Will's face as he arranged his cards. 

Will's eyes lit up as she responded to his question about Whitman.

"Let me read you something later by him? Please?"

Then, they were lost in the shuffling of the card game. Both Byrnes were expert players; Gavin was a renowned poker player, and he'd been playing with Will for as long as the latter could remember. The elder Byrne would occasionally mention a tip to Sarah- about odds, or weighing ones opponent, while the younger Byrne spoke to her about her personal life. 

"Sorry to hear about your father..."

Will couldn't help but glance over at his own, who was staring intently down into his pile of chips for a moment.

"... and, honestly, I'm more sorry to hear about what happened to you with that shitty club. Did you get the guys who did that to you?"

"Someone is trying to kill me"- the sentence ran through Will's head. Excitement and fear. Probably more of the former than the latter- until he looked at Sarah and saw her eyes. He nodded, listening to her intently.

"Let me read you something later by him? Please?"

Sarah looked up from her hand as a swarm of butterflies seemed to suddenly spawn in her stomach. 

"I'd like that."

The game was not a quick one, nor did it drag on for a long time. Sarah's skill was good enough to justify her seat at the table with the Byrne men, but she was listening carefully to every bit of advice they offered. 

Sometime, during a later hand, Will asked about her captors.

"Mike got him. To this day, I don't know how he found me. It was the strangest thing I've ever seen. He walked into the club, took a seat, and ordered a root beer float. When I brought it to him, he looked me squarely in the eye and said 'I'm going to get up and walk into the kitchen and kill Lou. There's a car out back, join me, or don't. Either way, you're free.' And that's exactly what he did. Strangled the fat bastard with a wire and walked out the back door like he was just going for a smoke."

Sarah frowned at the cards left in her hand and finally laid them down.

"I managed to find my few personal effects, then left with Mike. I have this bad feeling that the same guy after me has something to do with Mike disappearing. But, I guess we'll find out."

Will noticed his father got very quiet during any discussion of Sarah and her captors. Interesting. Guilt? Still, Gavin refocused as he listened to Sarah.

"You said 'the same guy'... any reason to think it's just one person, or are you guessing there?"

"That's a guess- but an educated one."

Sarah pushed back her chair slightly from the table and pulled her feet under her. She'd lost the hand early, so she settled back and watched as she filled Will in on the details- at least the ones she knew.

"Mike told me that my father had been helping some Feds take down a foreign drug trafficking ring- out of Asia or something like that."

As always, when she got to this part, she quickly followed it up.

"He wasn't a rat. The Feds knew what he did, but they didn't want him. They wanted the other guys, and Dad knew about them. Anyway, that's how he knew Mike. Well, there's another guy, Burke, that worked with Mike for a while; but I guess he went dirty or something. He started working for the Asians and tried to get Mike to do the same thing. Mike refused. I guess Mike had a lot of info that could send Burke away for life. Burke knew that Mike had found me. My guess is that he's on someone's payroll to take me out, too."

Sarah chuckled softly to herself, thinking of how freeing it had felt to escape the club, only to fall into this mess.

"Out of the frying pan and into the fire, huh?"

The train let out a low wail as it moved on through the darkening evening. It was just a bit more than an hour since they'd left. Noticing the small bar in one corner of the train, Sarah got up to get a drink. The cabinet was stocked with a few bottles and glasses. No Jameson, but there was a single malt scotch that wasn't the worst. Glancing up with the bottle in hand, she instinctively asked.

"Can I bring you all a drink?"

"Can I bring you all a drink?"

"No."

"Yes."

Gavin, who'd been a hair quicker in responding, glared at his son before sighing.

"I'll have a full glass. Will will have half."

Gavin spoke quickly before his son could launch a planned diatribe.

"And if he says anything about it, he can have none. As strange as it is to be sharing my drink with my son, you need to learn how to handle your liquor. People will try to take advantage of you if you're not yourself."

Sarah grinned at the exchange between the two as she sat three glasses on the small bar top. She proceeded to pour one glass for Gavin, then a half glass for Will and a half for herself. Once the bottle was secure in the cabinet, Sarah took the gentleman their drinks before returning with her own. 

Back in her seat, she took a small sip. The flavor was oaky and strong, leaving a bit of a burn as she swallowed. Keeping the glass in her hands, she spoke to Gavin. 

"There are some items in my house that would be a big help to us in this. Mostly, some documents in Dad's safe. I don't know if it's even possible to get into the house unseen, but it might be worth a try."

Swirling the glass gently, she continued. 

​​​​​​"Would you tell me what you're planning? I want to make sure that I'm prepared, for anything."

Gavin savored his drink for a moment before speaking.

"A plan... well, tonight we're going to get into the city and get some rest. Big day tomorrow. I thought we'd spend the day getting into your house and poking around, seeing if we can find anything to help you. After that, we'll have the poker game in the evening. I'm afraid, Sarah, that I only registered for two, but you can of course attend as a guest with Raini."

He shrugged.

"After that... well I suppose it depends what we find in  your house."

Sarah nodded. 

"No, that's fine. I like to play, but I don't think I'm tournament ready. I'd be much more useful as a good luck charm."

With a little grin, she stole a glance at Will. There was no denying an attraction to him. Will Byrne had a face that could charm the devil out of hell if he wanted it. Sarah had been forced to do a lot of growing up in her time in New Jersey, but somehow being around Will made her feel less put-upon. In fact, she was beginning to feel quite giddy, as if she were an 18 year old girl after all. 

"I'll make a phone call tonight. I know at least two of my father's men who would have stayed loyal. Maybe they can help us get to the house more easily."

Gavin frowned. He spoke carefully, not wanting to disrespect Sarah.

"I'm not going to forbid you for doing that... technically, you're the one who hired me... but loyalty is a funny thing. I've seen people flip you'd never expect. And loyalty to the dead... well, that's even trickier. My professional recommendation is that you avoid contacting them- at least until after we've explored the house. When you're meeting hunted, telling anyone where you'll be and when you'll be there is dangerous."

He smiled reassuringly.

"Besides, I'm sure we can get in. Can you tell me about the house? The neighborhood?"

He was right, though it saddened her a bit to realize that everything she'd known just six months ago had all changed. The life she knew and had been so stupid to take for granted was gone. Friends couldn't be trusted, even walking into her own home was a gamble with her life. 

Setting the glass aside, she sat up straight and began to describe her childhood home. 

"It's not what you might think. It's a two story brownstone in a row of them on East 42nd Street. It was the house he grew up in when his parents came over, and he didn't want to leave it when he made his break. Downstairs, there's a small living room in the front and the staircase going up. Beyond the stairs, the kitchen and another room Dad used as a study. That's where his safe is. Upstairs, there is a single bathroom and two bedrooms. In that hallway, there is a pull-down ladder that leads to the attic. It's small, but it was always just me and dad, so it was enough. The people in the neighborhood really respected him for staying there - just being another neighbor instead of moving to since grand house on a hill."

She grew silent then. Working for Lou had been a way to keep her mind distracted from losing her dad. Sure, she'd cried when she heard the news, but she never had time to mourn. In the week and a half since getting away, she was finding it harder and harder to fight back the sadness that would naturally come with mourning.

This, however, was not the time. Sarah shook it off and stood, taking her empty glass to the bar. 

"Anyway, the neighborhood is a working-class one. During the day most of the men are working, and the women are home with babies and doing house work. It's really safe. Well, it was. Dad was very firm that trouble didn't happen in that neighborhood."

Gavin listened carefully as Sarah spoke. It's not what you might think" was an interesting comment- almost certainly due to the wealth involved. The details of the house were interesting. If Sarah's father had stashed something important an hidden, Gavin suspected the study. Many people people had "the safe", the more visible, larger storage location for the moderately valuable but replaceable things in their lives; they also had the real safe, usually hidden and accessed much less frequently. These two locations, however, were almost always in the same room. That way, it was easy to "go to the safe" and not have to deal with noisy ladders to the attic or anything. 

"Well, I suppose our two options are a clandestine visit in the middle of the night or a daytime visit. Personally, for this case I'd prefer the latter. We should be in and out relatively quickly, and we'll look far less suspicious than fiddling with the lock at 2 AM. And if you are spotted... well, there's a good chance someone would recognize you and be sympathetic."

"Any other questions, thoughts, or things to discuss? Happy to answer anything- you're paying for my help, after all. But if there's nothing else, I might try to grab a couple hours of sleep.

Sarah grinned a little and shook her head.

"I'm paying for your expertise, Gavin. I agree, though. Daylight would be much better. No one in the neighborhood has seen me in six months. They probably won't notice. Besides, if we go around lunch, hardly anyone will be out."

That said, Sarah walked over and took the empty glass from Gavin to return to the bar cabinet. The train took an easy curve as it rumbled along the tracks. As Gavin settled back in one of the upholstered seats in the corner, Sarah returned to the poker table where Will was casually shuffling the deck of cards. With a soft smile, she took the seat beside him.

"I have to admit, your insight on my book took me by surprise. Not many guys my age are into reading."

Will rested his forearms on the table, fancily shuffling the cards as he grinned up at Sarah.

"Oh? And what are these other guys into, instead?"

"Oh, you know; baseball, fast cars, easy women. Not that there's anything wrong with those things, but a girl can only take so much."

She watched Will manipulate the deck of cards with ease and skill.

"You and your father play really well. My Dad never really was into big tournaments, just poker nights with some of his men. Every Christmas, he'd invite some of his business partners for a high-stakes game. I wasn't allowed to be in the room for that one. Probably because he didn't want me to see how much money he was losing. But he did it on purpose- to keep them happy. It was sort of like his Christmas gift to them. Better than a ham, right?"

Reaching over, she picked up the empty card box and flipped it in between her fingers, passing it through each back and forth.

"So, what else do you like to do, other than play poker and impress girls with your knowledge of poetry?"

Sarah flashed him an impish little grin.

Will leaned back in his chair, the picture of comfortable confidence.

"Baseball's great. And fast cars and fast women are overrated. I'm more of a... enjoy the scenery kind of guy. What's the fun in something you don't have to work for, right? Poker... I honestly don't remember the first time I played. Been doing it my whole life, and I had to get good just to keep up with You Know You."

He jerked his thumb toward his father.

"Never lets anyone win anything, so you've got to earn your way."

Will paused, at least slightly troubled enough on the topic of fathers to suppress his based instincts for a moment.

"Your father sounds like he was a good man. Really sorry for you loss. I... well I was going to say I can't imagine it, but the truth is that I've been imagining it almost every day of my conscious life. Wondering about that seems normal for kids with parents in our line of work. Doesn't make it any easier though, I expect."

Will stood up, still carrying his drink from earlier which he'd been nursing, and made his way over to the couch in the corner; it was on the opposite corner of where Gavin and Raini were sitting, and would seemingly provide the younger pair with a good place to talk. He waved Sarah over as he considered her question.

"What else do I like to do? I read. A lot. Books and languages are sorta my specialties. More like my aunt than my father, in that sense. They're twins. Uh, traveling. I dunno. Art? I just try to enjoy myself mostly, however the opportunity presents itself. What about you?"

The herd of wild butterflies materialized in her stomach as he carries for her to join him on the couch. The scotch had begun to take its effect, but only enough that she wasn't as awkward and shy as she might have been. Sarah left the table and made her way to the couch, pausing only to finally remove the holster from her shoulders. Free of that, she came to the couch and sat beside Will with her fingers laced together and resting on her lap. 

"Hmm. Well, before New Jersey, I was a little more of a party girl. I loved going to dance halls and social clubs, play some pool, have a few drinks. I think I gave my dad more than a few grey hairs back then."

Her emerald green eyes sparkled a bit as she recalled fond memories. 

​​​​​​"I think I'm a little different now. I've had almost two weeks to go back to partying, but I just find myself wanting to escape to my books. I've even been writing some. But, if I could do anything, I think I'd like to travel. I want to go to Ireland and see my Dad's home country. He spoke of it like it was the most beautiful place on earth."

For a brief moment, Sarah glanced at Gavin, then back to Will. 

​​​​​​"Your Dad reminds me quite a bit of mine. He wasn't one to let things come to me so easily. In fact, that's how I ended up getting taken. I was angry at him because he wouldn't give me the money to buy some stupid thing. I sneaked out of the house the night we argued, and that's when they grabbed me. I feel awful that the last thing I said to my father was said in anger."

Not wanting to drive the conversation to a sad place, Sarah shook her head slightly. 

​​​​​​"Anyway, I'm going to make him proud somehow. I suppose I'll figure all that out when this mess is straightened out."

Sarah let her eyes wander up Will's relaxed pose until she met his bright blue eyes. 

Will's eyes sparkled a little at "party girl", and he listened carefully as Sarah talked about her books.

"Maybe you're just lacking the right party companion. And what else do you read? What sorts of things do you write?"

He followed Sarah's eyes over to Gavin.

"I'm sure you'll make your dad proud. And the last words stuff... I get that. Had it happen to me a few times. You just have to trust that your whole relationship means more than one random day- and I think it basically always does."

His words were so sweet and sincere, Sarah couldn't help but smile. 

"You're right. I might have been a little bit of a princess sometimes, but he knew I adored him."

With only a moments hesitation before, she glanced over at her bag on the floor beside the coat rack. 

"Hold on a second."

She stood and moved across the car to her bag, pulling out a small, leather bound journal. On her return to the couch, she sat a little closer to Will as she flipped through the pages. 

"I've never shared my work with anyone, but...we've got time and I think you might actually appreciate a little amateur verse."

Finding the appropriate page, she smoothed the center of the journal down and cleared her throat softly before she began. 

​​​​​​"No peace tonight, 

No sleep tonight. 

I do not recognize this place. 

I do not recognize this face. 

Letting loose a piercing cry, 

hands outstretched to an empty sky. 

No peace tonight,

No sleep tonight. 

Twisting, cold, beating too fast;

Screaching demons, shadows past.

Whether wandering, lost or found,

I think perhaps I've lost the ground

Again; but it was only a moment before

that I could feel an open door.

Barely breathing now is dying

with the hours swiftly flying. 

No peace tonight, 

No sleep tonight."

Sheepishly, she slowly looked up to Will with a slight pink blush on her porcelain cheeks. 

Will adjusted himself on the couch, swinging his feet to the floor as Sarah sat next to him. He listened to her as she read, watching her face, her lips. She never made eye contact until it was finished, and he made sure to give her a small smile.

"I like it. It has a really good rhythm to it. Kind of a... Poe-ish vibe?"

He was about to ask if she'd written it after she was taken or when she was trying to process that experience, but it would have killed the mood. Instead, he walked over to where she'd stored the book she was reading earlier.

"May I?"

As Sarah nodded, Will pulled out the book of Whitman's poetry. When he returned, he kicked off his shoes and sat on the couch and stretched out so that his knees and calves were resting in her lap. He grinned, faux-apologetic.

"Apologies; I feel like when I read Whitman I need to be stretched out. Relaxed. He's that kind of poet, you know?"

Adjusting his lower legs so they'd rest comfortably on Sarah's lap, carefully initiating contact, he began to read, skipping around between the parts of this particular poem that he remembered being excited by and that he considered appropriate for this particular situation.

"The love of the body of man or woman balks account, the body itself balks account,/ That of the male is perfect, and that of the female is perfect."

"The expression of the face balks account, / But the expression of a well-made man appears not only in his face, / It is in his limbs and joints also, it is curiously in the joints of his hips and wrists, /It is in his walk, the carriage of his neck, the flex of his waist and knees, dress does not hide him, /The strong sweet quality he has strikes through the cotton and broadcloth, /To see him pass conveys as much as the best poem, perhaps more, /You linger to see his back, and the back of his neck and shoulder-side."

He flipped a couple pages ahead; the young man seemed excited to be simultaneously in contact with both Sarah and Walt Whitman. To touch one without the other would have been grand, but to touch them both at once was something that seemed to be... unique. Special.

"I have perceiv’d that to be with those I like is enough, /To stop in company with the rest at evening is enough, /To be surrounded by beautiful, curious, breathing, laughing flesh is enough, /To pass among them or touch any one, or rest my arm ever so lightly round his or her neck for a moment, what is this then? /I do not ask any more delight, I swim in it as in a sea."

"There is something in staying close to men and women and looking on them, and in the contact and odor of them, that pleases the soul well, / All things please the soul, but these please the soul well."

Will flipped a few more pages ahead, smirking up at Sarah as he did so, although it didn't seem forced- rather, it seemed like his natural expression, like a child caught sneaking toward the cookie jar, but finding even more entertainment in the fact that he was caught looking.

"This is the female form, /A divine nimbus exhales from it from head to foot, /It attracts with fierce undeniable attraction, /I am drawn by its breath as if I were no more than a helpless vapor, all falls aside but myself and it, /Books, art, religion, time, the visible and solid earth, and what was expected of heaven or fear’d of hell, are now consumed,/ Mad filaments, ungovernable shoots play out of it, the response likewise ungovernable, /Hair, bosom, hips, bend of legs, negligent falling hands all diffused, mine too diffused, /Ebb stung by the flow and flow stung by the ebb, love-flesh swelling and deliciously aching..."

Will closed the book. "Deliciously aching" seemed like the right place to stop. Besides, Will's body was already feeling electric; he felt a buzz of the whiskey, of the poetry, of being in contact with a beautiful woman. Every cell in his body wanted to lean forward and kiss Sarah; a glance to the right showed that both Gavin and Raini seemed to be asleep. But Will forced his body to stillness as he leaned back and reclined on the couch, resting his head against its arm and resting one of his own arms behind his head. He resisted the impulse to movement and instead simply looked up at Sarah with a small smile as he adjusted his legs on her lap, 'accidentally' providing the lightest friction against her thighs.