Her animated expression suddenly collapsed. "What's wrong?" Ramiro asked.
"I just realized that I don't have anything to wear. I didn't bring any gowns on the ...
journey."
"You don't need a gown for the gala tonight, honey, because you're not going," Ryan stated firmly. He was ignored by both of hem.
"Ryan could take you over to his mother's. I'm sure Eve'd set you up. Sweet lady and so tempting even though Daire gives me dirty looks like that one"—Ramiro hitched his thumb at Ryan's ice—"every time I mention it. All the women at the Field Museum all want to scratch your eyes out if you show up in one of Eve Daire's dresses."
"Oh .. . well, I couldn't impose," Hope said, her eyes downcast.
"Honey, I'm not going to take you into a potentially dangerous situation just so you can see the Field Museum. I'll take you there another time. I don't even think it's in the same place that you're used to—"
"You know as well as I do that the chances are slim to none lat anything dangerous will actually occur in the midst of a room of crowded partygoers," Ramiro interrupted. "We'll arrest Donahue quietly as he leaves. Chirnovsky will get him to talk about his slimy white slaving plans and Donahue goes to prison."
"You know as well as I do that things are rarely ever that cut-and-dry."
"Ryan, you're trying to stop a white slavery operation?" Hope interrupted.
"We've been working on putting away the kingpin—Jim Donahue—for over a year now.
Daire and I were the ones who brought the whole operation to the FBI's attention.
Donahue's a powerful son of a bitch, though. We have to nail him just right or risk losing the whole case. Tonight's our moment of victory," Ramiro said smugly.
Ryan started to reply when he noticed the way Hope regarded him.
"I'm very sorry to hear that white slavery continues to occur, but I'm so proud of you for fighting it, Ryan."
The sound of Ramiro clearing his throat tore him out of the trance induced by Hope's glistening, midnight eyes.
"Do you really think it would be safe at the Field Museum, Mr. Menendez?" Hope asked.
"Crenshaw would never sanction us taking down Donahue in the midst of a crowded event, Miss Stillwater." Ramiro's temporary awkwardness at using Hope's surname immediately diminished when she bedazzled him with a warm smile. "You'll be as safe there as you would be on a regular museum attendance day. More so, with all the cops and federal agents that will be there."
Hope glanced up at Ryan hopefully through a thicket of dark lashes. "I would love to go with you."
Ryan opened his mouth to explain why she couldn't, but then he saw the trace of anxiety in her eyes. He was forced to acknowledge that it might be difficult for her to be on her own, even if it were for only one night, when she was still so emotionally raw from her leap forward in time and the loss of everything dear to her. Not to mention the fact that this house was like an empty tomb. He didn't treasure the idea of leaving her there alone, either.
"You can come on one condition."
Hope nodded eagerly.
"You have to get in a cab and go to my mother's condominium when I tell you to. There's a good chance Donahue won't give us the goods until Chirnovsky and him go to the Sweet Lash after they meet at the Field Museum, anyway."
Hope and Ramiro spoke at once.
"Why the hell would you say that?" Ramiro asked sharply.
"The Sweet Lash?" Hope exclaimed. "Do you mean the same establishment that Diamond Jack Fletcher owned?"
Ryan nodded. "The very same. Only in the year 2008 it's a nightclub, not a brothel like it was in 1906. From what I learned while I was in your time and some references from Detective O'Rourke's notes, Jack used to do all his high-level business at the Sweet Lash.
I'm betting he might do the same in the present day."
Ramiro stared at Ryan like a second head had just sprouted out of his neck. "Nineteen hundred and six? Her time. What do you mean, her time?" His dark brown eyes rolled over Hope's apparel, this time with a trace of panic.
"Look, there are a lot of things I've got to explain to both of you and I guess now is as good a time as any. Why don't we go up to the bedroom? There's no place to sit down—"