“Bee’s Knee’s, of course.” Hannah lapped up the details of his story like a child licking a cherry pop. “Meg heard Caruso sing. She said there wasn’t a dry eye in the house. Oh, this wine is divine.”
“Good, it should be for what it cost. I don’t know about any tenor making me cry no matter how good, but big Jimbo was in the bees before he got himself iced—murdered. Some think Torrio had a hand in it.”
“Do you?” She asked him, wide-eyed.
He shrugged, telling her about all the famous people who came to the club, how they ate, looked, spent their dough.
“Is there a good sized stage?”
“Yeah.” He’d told her he wouldn’t think about her working again until she was fully recovered. She’d almost died. The doc said she’d never have children again.
They heard voices and distracted he moved the curtain to glance outside. It was the people in the compartment next to them returning to their berth. Soon they’d be spending the entire night together for the first time ever in this tiny cubicle.
“Does the stage have a dance floor, Johnny?”
“It’s on a hydraulic lift. It goes up and down on demand right outta the floor.”
“Wow,” she said, obviously impressed. He liked to impress her.
When she smiled at him she made him feel like God. He wondered how long before she was fully recovered and they could consummate their relationship.
“You sure it’ll be easier for me to get a good gig, somethin’ like The Jefferson?”
“You betcha.” He’d spent months worrying and waiting for Hannah. Wanting to protect, cherish and possess. Caring was new to him.
“…so you just might have gotten more than you bargained for,” she continued, pausing.
Johnny hoped his eyes didn’t reflect that he hadn’t been listening. “What do ya mean?”
“Us moving to Chicago together. It’s kind of crazy. I still miss Meg so much I could scream. I even have dreams about her.”
“I’d call it brave and adventurous. Hey…” he tilted up her chin to make her look at him. Her eyes were glimmering with uncertainty. “From everything I heard about Meg, she’d want ya to be happy. Where’s the gal that said she wanted new memories? New opportunities? I told ya—”
“You’ve got opportunities waiting, but what about me, Johnny? What if you’re wrong and I’m not sophisticated enough for a big city like Chicago or your friends?”
She wanted promises, assurances. The fact that he wanted to make them surprised him. “No what if’s, doll. I swore I’d take care of you. They’ll love ya. I’m a man of my word. With all my contacts you’ll have your pick of joints to sing at. Hell, I’ll soon have the moola to buy ya one if you want.” He snapped his fingers. What he wasn’t so sure of was if he wanted her to work. To have other fellas drool over her.
Her gaze shifted back to the window. “I guess I’m getting the heebie jeebies. Not that I don’t appreciate all you’ve done for me, but frankly I don’t feel right letting you take care of everything; buyin’ me presents, clothes.”
His jaw went tight. “I ain’t even begun. As for paying, you insisted on buying your own train ticket.”
She nodded. “I did. I know you didn’t like that but what have I done for you, nothing really.”
“Don’t say that. You made me happy when ya agreed to come with me.” Her refusal to let him take care of her was an insult that went to the bone.
“I didn’t want to lose you.”
“It’s only natural that a man should want to take care of his woman.” He understood her reluctance to get hitched, didn’t care for the idea himself, but license or not, a deal was a deal, a word a bond. She’d given hers by agreeing to come. “You ain’t getting’ cold feet, are ya?”
“No, but I need to feel like I’m pulling my own weight.”
A tiny ripple of irritation echoed in his voice. “Maybe you’re a little too used to fellas disappointing you, but I’m taking care of things now.” He would be the one in control. “What did you say you wanted more than anything when we first met?” He wasn’t a top notch negotiator for nothing.
She frowned. “That I wanted to live life, really live. To be free enough not to worry about anything except enjoying myself. To have fun but I don’t want to wait six months to work.” Her chin notched up stubbornly.
Johnny prayed for patience. He ached to cup a hand on her neck and pull her to him. He wanted to lay his lips on the soft skin of her nape, to shake some sense into her, to shut her up. Instead, he unclenched his jaw and did what he usually didn’t—explained himself.
“Han, when I think of all you’ve been through, I just want to make things right for you again. I will, if you give me the chance. I wanna give you all them things you want and more. I’ll make sure you get the kind of bucks you deserve when you sing, but first I figure we can have some of that fun you ain’t been having the past months.” He wasn’t used to explaining or backing down. He didn’t like it. “Trust me, okay?”
“I do,” she said, gracing him with a warm smile.
“Look, in the meantime we’ll get better acquainted.”
“Oh, Johnny,” she said, affectionately rubbing his hand. “I guess I’m being silly, nervous about us, about the future. It seems too good to be true. I apologize. I shouldn’t be difficult when you’ve been aces, standing by me like this. I did warn you I can be a little headstrong.”
Shifting, he gently turned to lean forward, unable to help himself, taking her lips in a gentle kiss. “I know and I warned you I can be overbearing.”
“Uh oh,” she said, studying him. He was so damned handsome.
When she licked her lips with a quick dart of her tongue, the sight was as arousing to him as a languid massage. His throat caught as their eyes locked.
“We’re in for fireworks, aren’t we, Johnny Gallo?”
“I think that’s an understatement, Hannah Glidden.” Her voice wrapped around him like a sultry cloud of sin as he breathed in her tantalizing floral scent. He watched heatedly as she glibly rearranged her silk dress for what seemed like the tenth time. He counted to ten. He thought about all the money he was going to make. And, he realized he was caught like a fish on a hook, a bug in a jar. He, Johnny Gallo was so fixed in wanting a dame—this dame— that his mind was fast becoming mincemeat.
She sat with her legs tucked under her chin, her face resting there. She grinned at him with impish lights dancing in her eyes. She reached up and touched his face. Her fingertips sent sparks down his cheek.
“Johnny, I need to get the Chicago lingo down. I get that jugs and crates mean safes, which you and your friends…piaisanos cut your teeth on stealing before you grew up, I mean, reformed.”
“Not reformed, just smarter,” he said, lowering his mouth to hers for another hungry peck. She should need him like she needed water, food and her damn singing.
She sighed seductively. “Grease is money and a mustache Pete is someone old fashioned, right?”
He smiled, his pulse roaring in his ears. “Right. Remember enemies are rats, tattletales are snitches and try not to refer to anyone as dago, kike, or mick no matter how mad you get, and you’ll do just fine in Chicago, doll.”
She giggled, playfully nudging him with her toe. She appeared to be waiting for something. Jesus, he wasn’t going to blow it all now by acting like some randy out of control punk. This was a public transportation vehicle for Christ’s sake!
The voices of the other passengers were background to the din of clanking metal and chugging engine. The compartment’s glass doors dulled everything creating an illusion of privacy, but how private?
“The sun is finally going down,” she said with her hand on his leg, her finger moving in teasing circles. He wanted to groan, but shifted instead. He pointed in the shadows to a hawk snagging its prey outside the window. She was driving him crazy.
“You hungry?” Jesus, what a thing to say but so far, he’d played it smart and friendly, h
elpful and understanding. With effort he studied his hand, the way the light glinted on his pinky ring and his scar.
Her frustrated groan broke the silence. “Johnny Gallo, I’m tired of the way you treat…act like I am made of glass. You confuse me. You’re always such a…” She paused, a long one. “damned gentleman.”
“What’s wrong with that?”
“Everything.” She kicked her feet out from under her. Her dress flailed as she batted at it. She sat up straighter and turned to glare at him. “Here I am going off with you to who knows where and we haven’t…didn’t…you haven’t even seen me naked.”
She crossed her arms, building up steam. “And, every time we get close to doing anything personal you back away from me like a hound skulkin’ away from a skunk.”
“Hannah, this ain’t exactly the right place or time to…you…you…almost died, ya know?”
“I didn’t and I’m healthy now, hungry too and not just for dinner.”
“Hannah!”
She had the audacity to laugh. “There are curtains, and a train is kind of romantic.” She refused to meet his gaze. “My doctor said it would be fine but maybe you have someone else you prefer…someone who meets those needs for you.”
Johnny bit off a few choice oaths, shaking his head. “Jesus Christ, show a gal a little respect and this is what you get. I swear I’ll never understand females! There ain’t no one else. Hell, I should be nominated for sainthood.”
“Well, I’ve been wondering. Do you want me like a man wants a woman?”
“Jesus, Hannah, of course!” He felt so frustrated he wanted to punch out a window. Instead, he put down his goblet. “I’d have to be dead not to feel the sparks between us, but I ain’t no rutting pig. I want more from you than a roll in the hay. Just because…how can you even think I don’t want you?”
He looked completely baffled.
“Most fellas want it…need it and don’t usually care how they get it.”
“Then you don’t know a whole helluva lot about men. At least, me. I got self control and it don’t have nothing to do with not wanting you.”
She blinked, somewhat taken aback. “I didn’t think fellas could have control when it came to…sex. But, then again the sex I’ve had has either been cathartic or a means to an end.”
His compulsion to make her his own exploded. “Well, it ain’t gonna be like that for us. I play hard and for keeps. This ain’t no hit and run or therapy. It’s crazy how much I want ya, okay?”
“Oh, Johnny.” She smiled. “I want you too and it’s okay. I’m ready, more than.”
He understood violence. He’d learned to control it, channel it—barely but he wanted her to be sure. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Hannah, but once you give yourself to me, I ain’t letting go. You will be mine.”
“Bee’s Knee’s, then take me.” Her blue eyes deepened as she wound her arms tightly around his neck. “I’m yours.”
He took her. First with his mouth, hot, hard and ravaging. Her breath trembled. She arched into him moaning. She met his tongue thrust for thrust with a boldness that set his already hot blood to boiling. The cute, arousing little sounds she made only whetted his appetite for more. He filled his senses with her, and his hands. He drew back to nibble her neck, her earlobes, licking a path down her sweet skin.
“Make love to me, Johnny Gallo.”
He savored her with all that he had, all that he was, with his hands, his mouth, his tongue. He memorized and molded himself to her. He sensed her control and wasn’t content to stop until she lost it. It wasn’t until her breath became ragged, her eyes glazed over and her body arched and begged that he slowed. He forced himself to master himself first, then her. He wanted to take her hard and fast, against the booth, the wall, the door. He brought her to pleasure twice with his touch before he kicked the wall, shaking the booth so loudly it reminded them both of exactly where they were and what they were doing.
“Geez, this ain’t exactly the best place,” he whispered, coming up for air. His arousal was painful, tenting his trousers. The damned booth was too small to allow them much leeway beyond a half sprawl. He felt like a randy juvenile.
“Umm, wow, don’t stop. It’s okay…better then okay, wowee,” she said, breathless, skin flushed, all languid, disheveled woman, panting as she reached for him. He noted with masculine pride how she lay dazed, unable or unwilling to move. Her dress was puddled to her waist, her garters snapped open, her hose to her ankles. To his delight, most of her exquisite charms were visible to his admiring gaze. He wasn’t disappointed. “Christ, you’re gorgeous.”
“Um, so are you and huge too,” she purred lazily and with greedy arms snaked out to grab him. “Don’t stop now. Love me, Johnny.”
He uttered a ragged sigh. “Wouldn’t you rather our first time be someplace more comfortable? A ritzy hotel?”
“No.” She pulled him to her like a bee to a honeysuckle vine. She was clever, enticing, murmuring encouraging and risqué suggestions. Her breath was as teasing as her tongue, her hands and her body. “This is much more adventurous, befitting our new life, don’t you think?”
“Think, who can think?” He bent to pleasure her again, laving, teasing and suckling his way past her defenses. He caressed and fondled, learned and memorized each perfect, pert, pink part of her. He kissed the inside of her soft thigh, telling himself she belonged to him now.
“Ooh,” she gasped, immediately startled by the intimate gesture. “What are you doing?”
He moved lower, his mouth and lips giving answer to the pleasure spiraling inside him. His hands ably smoothed a trail down her stomach as he journeyed to the most tender, precious spot of all. He drank in her distinctive scent, her taste and dying inside as he struggled for the control he prided himself on.
“Whatta ya think?” His own voice sounded wobbly as he noticed her garter; blue and pink ruffled satin with a button that had a man’s face painted on it. “What the hell’s this?”
“It’s called a garter girl and that’s a cop…ooh…you’re killin’ me,” she gasped as he flicked it with his tongue, tugging it off with his teeth.
“Full of surprises. Who woulda guessed ya had a copper under your dress?”
“And a rumrunner too,” she quipped with a saucy grin. Her hair was a complete mess, her clothes almost gone. His arousal hammered at him. His blood was pumping so fast he thought he might go deaf for the roar in his ears. He gently rubbed the tiny nub to heaven’s gate. “Does this feel good?”
“Yeah…oh…yes,” she sighed arching against his hand. Her eyes were cloudy with passion, but he wanted to be sure her pleasure was genuine, her need for him as strong as his for her. When she’d almost died, just thinking about that, he vowed to never lose her. Nothing or no one would come between them now. He would make all her dreams come true, give her pleasure beyond imagination and start by being the best lover she’d ever had. He never felt so much for a woman before.
“Hannah, look at me,” he commanded slipping his middle finger inside her. The leap from pleasure to possession was instinctive, instantaneous. She could no more refuse his demands than think clearly. Her fractured concentration was obvious and the confirmation he sought close. He palmed her even as he held still, all serious intensity. “You’re mine now. You understand? This is mine too now, you got that?”
She nodded and he plundered. His mouth swallowed every moan she made, his body felt every shudder as she bucked. Her hands tugged on his clothes as they journeyed on an impatient quest south, tugging at his trousers. She grasped him at his core, clinging, insatiable, pleading for the pleasure only he could give her.
When her legs tightened around his waist, his own control broke and he surrendered to the frenzy, claiming her as his own. Her nails raked his chest, burrowing under his shirt and her pleas almost unmanned him. She choked out. “Hurry…hurry.”
He was still dressed but somehow managed to drop his pants. He positioned himself over her and
gave her what she wanted, what they both wanted. Urgent, he moved into her tight warmth, a place he knew now he’d never be able to live without.
Hannah. Slamming back and forth, they were shaking the whole damn rail car and he didn’t care. He felt feral, urgent, desperate and very, very ruthless. Jesus help anyone disturbing them now. He’d hafta kill them. He was making her his own, forever, indelibly, forcefully. And when she went over the edge, dragging at his jacket he knew it was right…this…them…forever. Nothing or no one would ever come between them now. By the time he exploded against her, his world was shattered. He fell atop her spent, but blissful.
“Hmm, that was somethin’, you okay,” she whispered later, still breathless.
“Never better, doll.” Life was good. He took a deep breath. “Never better.”
14 CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Hannah was lazing abed in a fancy three room hotel suite with genuine Oriental carpets; crushed velvet draperies and maroon upholstered walls. She had maid service, room service and gilt edged furnishings in Johnny’s and her Chicago home for almost a year now. A blues record was playing in the background. She sighed contentedly and reached for a ripe strawberry from a fresh fruit tray by the bed. Real silver and fresh strawberries in November! If Mama could see her now.
Oh, but she’d totally disapprove of her—this. Loading a cup with sugar cubes, she poured hot chocolate over them. Bury the bitter with the sweet, banish all sad thoughts and just be thankful for the present. Life with Johnny was easy. Like she’d always thought life should be.
Evenings they usually hung out at places like Diamond Joe’s, Four Deuces and The Victoria. They danced to world famous bands, dined with the famous, infamous and clinked bottles with celebrities like Al Jolson, handsome actor John Barrymore and the funny, blowsy comic Sophie Tucker, her personal favorite. It was gloomy, cold and raining buckets outside, but they’d be going to Cincinnati tonight in George Remus’s private rail car no less.
And Remus’s weekend parties were legend, an invitation coveted. Johnny’s associates were men as rough and mean as the streets that birthed them, but even her fanciest notions hadn’t prepared her for the splendor, the excess and the utter decadence of life here in Al Capone’s Chicago. Her heart gave an eager leap when the door suddenly opened and in came Johnny, hands full of papers and mail.
The Songbird with Sapphire Eyes Page 17