Claire slapped her shoulder, mindful of her tender flesh. “Don’t change the subject. She’s visiting neighbors down the street.” Fiona glanced up at Claire, not surprised to see the concern in her friends’ eyes, but sorry she’d been the reason nonetheless. “Almost done,” Claire said, putting a plaster on the worst of the cuts. Claire kissed Fiona’s forehead to announce the completion of her task, something Claire had done since they were children. Fiona gave Claire an appreciative smile.
She returned her attention to Ian. “Level with me, Mick, gimme the goods.” From the worried expression on his face, Ian had news for Finn, not Fiona.
Ian smirked at her, shaking his head. “If you weren’t already in a sorry condition, I’d smack you myself for that smart-alecky mouth of yours.” He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. “Don’t want to put you on the spot, Fiona, because I know what your final goal is with this…” he pointed a finger in her direction, waggling it to indicate her disguise. “…this charade. Yes, before you ask. Fred knows and is okay with your disguise, at least as much as I am kiddo. I gotta ask, are you sure you’re not in too deep?”
She thought of seeing Terry murdered, and of Sunny’s rape. Fiona couldn’t look at him when she explained, “Honestly Mick, I’m in way deeper than I intended. I know of and have seen stuff that makes me one of your bad guys, Detective. Case of the wrong places at the wrong times, you know?” She inhaled a deep breath, and then met his gaze. “I’m not just looking out for myself anymore.”
“Graham’s sister?”
Fiona gave a small shrug. “Her, too, I guess. No, I need to protect Sunny until we can leave the city.” Claire sat between Fred and Ian having done what she could for Fiona. She gave Ian an abridged version of what happened in Eldon’s office, and how Thelma’s parents had sold her outright. “Sunny was bought to work for a panel house. Now I’m trying to protect her from Jimmy Bennett.”
Fred perked up. “Bennett? Is that—”
“Yeah, it is.” Ian shook his head. “Listen, Fiona. Word on the street is Jimmy’s running his own deals, deals to take over Graham’s business. What he intends to do with Graham and family isn’t known to us, yet.” He rubbed a hand across his jaw. “Bennett’s working with, and been seen with, a rival boss, and even a couple of out-of-towner’s.”
“He’s slimy enough to be a double-crosser,” she acknowledged.
“Let me be honest here, Fiona. I don’t care what happens to any of them, not even Graham’s sister.” The heat of rage burned across her face, and Ian raised a hand to forestall any reply. “I realize you care for her, Fiona. And, for this Sunny kid. But there are a couple new wrinkles in this whole blanket of crime.”
“Being?”
“The feds are making their intentions to take down bootleggers and speakeasies known, no matter what it takes. It is common knowledge finks are coming out the woodwork everywhere, turning anyone, including family, in for the deal.”
“You said ’wrinkles’, plural.”
Ian stood, walked over to her, and placed a hand on her shoulder. “Second wrinkle, Junior’s working with Bennett. His sole purpose, at Bennett’s request, is get rid of you. Permanently.”
“Didn’t know Jimmy set him the task, but I knew about Junior. Well, there was a chance he’d been aiming for Margaret. I have a scar on my shoulder, courtesy of Junior and his goons.” She directed a weak smile at Claire, who’d gasped at the statement. “Look at me, Claire.” Claire did, meeting Fiona’s gaze with a watery one. “I’m fine, and got worse from Quinn than I took from Junior.”
“How long can that last?” Claire asked. “There has to be a safer way for you to earn enough to leave.”
Fiona rose from her chair, grunting softly at the initial spasm of pain from her bruised body. She flashed a wry smile. “It’s an age thing.”
Ian snorted. “Sure, then I’m blessed with eternal youth.”
Slowly, allowing her body to adjust, Fiona knelt in front of Claire, taking her friend's hands in her own. “It’s a dangerous world, Claire, and I can’t make promises when so much is out of my control. I will promise what I can, and that is to be aware of my surroundings and avoid as much trouble as possible.”
Claire nodded, her bottom lip clenched between her teeth. She released her captured lip and asked, “Will you come say good-bye before you go?”
Fiona cupped Claire’s cheek. “I wouldn’t disregard our friendship by not saying farewell.” At Claire’s nod, Fiona slowly stood and turned to Ian. “Damn, think I could use a nap.” Ian snickered. “If I ever learn enough to help you, Mick, I’ll find a way to get the information to you.”
“Be safe, that’s the important thing. You’re family.” He pointed a finger in Fred’s direction. “The ugly guy here is trustworthy, too. If you can’t get hold of me, find Fred.” Ian rolled his eyes dramatically. “Plus he’s trying to earn brownie points to date Claire.”
“Good to know,” Fiona said, hoping the spasm of jealousy of what could never be, wasn’t apparent in her expression. She started toward the door. “Gotta go. Give my best to Nana. Maybe our next get-together will be on a happier note.”
“Watch your back and stay away from Quinn,” Ian said.
“Quinn who?” she said. Fiona snickered and left the Donnelly apartment, already working on how she was going to explain her newest injuries to Margaret. So much for her first day off.
Chapter Twenty
AS HAD BECOME the norm, Margaret found Fiona with Sunny in the kitchen. This wasn’t a Mrs. Bauman cooking day, so only the two of them were there, sitting at the table, Fiona listening while a soft-spoken Sunny read aloud to her. The teenager, still skittish around others, came alive when near Fiona, even going so far as to smile warmly at her. Had Margaret been a jealous person, Sunny’s demeanor would have caused those feelings in her, but it hadn’t. The adoration Sunny exhibited was more a young sibling emulating an older one. The change in Sunny was short of miraculous, especially when she believed her and Fiona alone.
Margaret also enjoyed watching Fiona. Her tenderness with Sunny and others, her relaxed teasing, the way she put everyone’s well-being before her own where all qualities Margaret admired. What she didn’t enjoy was the additional damage to Fiona. The bruises and small cuts were healing after a day but still looked painful. She had been so furious to learn what Fiona’s father had done to her. More so when Fiona played it off as a minor matter. A positive note for Margaret being Fiona was still handsome to her.
Much as she hated to do it, Margaret needed to interrupt them. “There you are Finn,” she said entering the kitchen and striding toward the table. Fiona promptly stood. “Good morning, Sunny. How’s the reading assignment coming along?”
“Fine, Miss Margaret,” Sunny replied. She lowered her head submissively, her first instinct when singled out for attention. Margaret hoped, with time, they could break her of the horrible habit. Time might not be an option for her, or for Fiona. Placing a hand on the back of Sunny’s chair to make certain Sunny stayed where she was, Margaret turned her attention on Fiona. “I’ve been presented a task, which begins me worrying, since it involves you, Finn.”
“Anything I can do for you,” Fiona said, sincerity visible in her tone and expression.
“Well, it’s a good thing I found you both here.” She looked down at Sunny. “I’ll need you to join us.” Sunny paled, another expected reaction to the unknown requiring her participation.
“What’s the task?” Fiona asked. Having also sensed Sunny’s discomfort, she reached across the table and squeeze Sunny’s hand.
Setting her tone to playful acceptance, Margaret rolled her eyes in exaggeration. “I’m taking you both upstairs, where I have the excruciating job of outfitting you in a suit, cleaning you up, and making you presentable. A daunting task if I need say so.” Clasping her hands together and bringing them to her heart, Margaret stared imploringly towards Sunny, batting her eyelashes at gale-wind speed. “Please, Sunny,
say you won’t force me to endure the torture alone.”
Color returned to Sunny’s face, a beaming smile joined the warm gaze meeting hers. “Won’t let you suffer,” Sunny said with a soft giggle. Margaret was sure Sunny’s playful tone surprised Fiona as much as it had her. Bringing attention to the reaction could set Sunny’s recovery backward, so Margaret extended a hand to Sunny. “Then let us move forward with our Herculean endeavor.” A wide grin filled Sunny’s face with delight, as she hesitantly took Margaret’s hand and stood. “Onward we go,” Margaret said walking toward the back staircase to the upper floors. She knew Fiona would be right behind them, confirmed when Margaret heard her mumble, “What’s so hard about dressing me? I wear clothes every day.”
Margaret had placed the off-the-rack suit she’d purchased earlier, at Eldon’s request, in the spare room one door down from her own. This had been Eldon’s room when they were younger, but he’d since moved into their parents’ suite when Mother passed. Now his room lay empty, perfect for this task. She opened the door and ushered them both inside.
As her habit, Fiona promptly shoved her hands in her pockets. “Been dressing for a good many years, Margaret,” she said, eyeing the suit laid out on the bed. Then Fiona frowned at the numerous boxes covering the rest of the mattress. Confusion in her gaze, Fiona said, “I don’t understand.”
Margaret moved forward and wrapped an arm around Fiona’s waist, hoping to offer reassurance and relax her, though Margaret herself did know how to react to Eldon’s request. On the one hand, Margaret liked the idea Eldon’s inclusion of Fiona in more duties meant Margaret saw her more frequently. At the same time, he placed Fiona in more positions that are obvious as Eldon’s employee. Though she didn’t know what that entailed, Margaret knew it couldn’t all be good either. She glanced toward the dresser and the twelve-by-twelve wooden box about four inches deep, the only resident, on top. Her instructions from him were “give this to Finn with the suit, and he’ll know what to do with it.” The statement had set her hackles to rise. What else could she do but look inside the box? Her worse fear realized, Margaret accepted that Fiona wouldn’t be in this mess if she hadn’t come to Margaret’s aid in the first place. Margaret owed her the same protection.
She also wondered how Fiona would respond to Eldon’s newest offering. Pointing toward the changing screen, Margaret said, “Take your clothes off.”
Fiona startled and Sunny gasped in surprise. “What?” she asked innocently. “I’m giving you some privacy. Now, hop to it.” She clapped her hands. “You need to be dressed and ready to drive Eldon to his destination in less than ninety minutes.” With one last questioning gaze at her, Fiona complied. Margaret turned her attention on Sunny. “Go across the hall and fill the pitcher with hot water, grab a washcloth and towel, soap, and bring them back to me.” A haunted expression darkened the girls’ features. Automatically, Margaret pulled her into a hug and spoke gently into her ear. “Neither of them is here, right now. You’re safe.” Since Sunny’s arrival, Margaret and Fiona made certain Sunny was never alone. The task had taken some creative maneuvering of schedules. If they couldn’t accomplish coverage at the house, Fiona brought Sunny to Dorcas, where Finn would later retrieve her from the club. “Brigid is on the lookout and will warn us of their return. Okay?” Sunny stared at her for a long moment, probably gauging the veracity of her statement, before exiting the room to complete Margaret’s request.
Lifting the tops of various boxes on the bed, all but the hatbox, Margaret retrieved a complete set of undergarments and a large roll of sturdy gauze before walking them and the dark blue suit over to the dressing screen. She bit her lip to staunch the moan wanting to burst from her lips at the vision before her. From Fiona’s embarrassed expression, Margaret doubted she’d hidden the lust from her hungry gaze. Fiona had removed her shirt and trousers, even tossed her Newsboy cap on top of the clothes pile on the floor. She stood in front of Margaret in an undershirt, boxers, and socks—the left one complete with holes at the heels and toes from wear. In spite of the boys’ undergarments—or because of—she realized Fiona was an incredible and enticing sight. Margaret frowned again at the bruises coloring the milky skin, these hidden beneath her clothing. Even this damage didn’t detract from the vision before her. “It’s moments like this I wish we were alone on an island, where I could feast upon you with my eyes, and then my hands and mouth.” Margaret hadn’t intended to speak the words aloud.
Gauging from Fiona’s compulsive swallow, Margaret suspected she’d done just that. She wouldn’t take the words back, nor would she apologize. Closing the distance, Margaret clutched the clothing in one hand, and pulled Fiona’s head down with the other, taking Fiona’s lips firmly with hers. Fiona deepened the kiss, mingling the hunger with her own. Margaret heard Sunny reenter the room and reluctantly pulled away. She knew from the increased intensity of each kiss they shared that Fiona returned her affection. Margaret also knew Fiona had no idea what to do with the feelings, or how to move forward with them—not on her own. The warmth pooling between her own legs told Margaret she couldn’t wait much longer to take Fiona as her lover. What Margaret feared was, in her hurry to satiate her own desire, she would move too fast. Fiona was unprepared for the physical aspects and undoubtedly had no knowledge of making love. She didn’t wish to frighten her.
“Wonderful, Sunny, thank you,” Margaret said taking the pitcher from her and setting it on the windowsill ledge. “The washcloth, please.” Sunny handed it over, and Margaret submerged it in hot water, pulled it free and rung the excess liquid. She stepped forward, all the while maintaining eye contact with Fiona. “Your face is probably still tender, so tell me if I hurt you.” Fiona nodded, and Margaret wiped cloth gently across her face. When finished, Margaret flashed a playful smile at Fiona. “Take it off, Finn, all of it.”
“What?”
Margaret chuckled at Fiona’s shocked tone. “Relax. Sunny and I will wait by the bed. Change into the new stuff after you wash up. We’ll help you with the suit.” She stalked closer until only a breath could pass between them. “Unless you want me to help you wash the rest of you? Maybe bind you?” Fiona gave a noticeable gulp, and Margaret stepped back, done with her emotional onslaught to Fiona’s barriers. “Seriously, let me know if I can help. Otherwise, come out when you’re done.” She turned to leave after Fiona nodded.
Fiona must’ve worked at lightning speed (fearful Margaret wouldn’t keep her word to wait to be asked back to the screen, maybe?) because she hadn’t waited long. Fiona stepped from behind the screen, stopping short of the bed, and dumping her original outfit into a heap at the foot of it. Margaret’s heart skipped at the glorious sight. Fiona in a fitted suit made Beau Brummell more a slob than a fashion icon. The jacket’s boxy cut made Fiona’s chest and shoulders appear as that of a barrel-chested and muscular silhouette. The cuffed, creased, narrow legged trousers gave her legs the appearance of being longer than her average five-six height and athletic. The high cut vest was also in dark blue and showed above the jacket opening as the current fashion dictated. Under it all, a simple white shirt and blue silk tie.
“Is it all right?” Fiona asked. She finger-combed her hair back nervously.
“More than okay,” Margaret said. There was no way Fiona’s Finn persona would be able to avoid the hungry and appreciative attentions of women. There would probably be a few men fuming with envy. If she could put Fiona back into Finn’s usual attire, Margaret would do it in a heartbeat. Her own green-eyed monster had raised its ugly head. She didn’t want anyone else flirting or touching Fiona. None of that mattered because Eldon had a plan, Fiona had a mission, and Margaret had to finish her work of art. “Two more additions, Finn, and you’re ready. One is my addition, and one is from Eldon, which I have to say I don’t like.”
“What is it?” Fiona frowned at her, her gaze perplexed.
Margaret walked over to the box on the dresser. She picked it up, brought it over to bed, and placed on the duvet. O
pening the lid, she said, “Eldon wants you to be able to protect yourself, and him, I presume.”
Fiona leaned over her shoulder and peered inside. Margaret heard her audible gulp. “I can’t wear that thing.” Inside the box were a Browning FN Model 1910, a clip, and leather shoulder holster. “I could hurt somebody, myself included.”
“Think that might be Eldon’s point, Finn. To hurt the bad guys who come after him or you.” Margaret felt torn over the need for the pistol. Shot once, she wanted Fiona to have the chance to protect herself from another attack.
On the other hand, the significance of the weapons’ addition meant Eldon would be making more demands, dangerous demands, of Finn who essentially had just turned seventeen. Was Eldon grooming Finn for more duties? She knew, of course, about the adjustments to their family restaurants modifying them into speakeasies. Less than a year had gone by, and their businesses were losing money. No one was going out to eat; and, even the local theaters were shutting down due to lost revenue. By joining some of the less desirable men in Boston, Eldon made sure to provide what the customer wanted. She suspected Jimmy’s influence was strong in Eldon’s organizational decisions, which made her fear for Fiona stronger. How could Fiona not protect herself?
“Or for the purpose of protecting you, Sunny, and Brigid.” Fiona unbuttoned and removed her jacket with trembling hands, tossing it on the end of the bed while winking at Sunny. “Whatever it takes to keep you ladies safe.” She gave a wry grin. “Good thing I didn’t have this when I saw Quinn. You’d be visiting me in the slammer.”
“That’s not something you should joke about.” Margaret gave an indignant huff. “We would have bailed you out, and then hidden you in the cellar.”
Behind her, Sunny chuckled softly, and then said, “The garage would have been too obvious.” Once again, Margaret felt excitement and surprise by Sunny’s interspersed humor. Sunny may not say much, or often, but was a delight when she did contribute with just enough.
Speakeasy, Speak Love Page 12