“Sharks,” said Raymond.
“Exactly,” agreed the man. “And sharks, when they see the fine meal of a small fish, they get greedy. They get hungry. They want a piece of the meal for themselves.”
“And you’re the shark?”
He laughed, revealing straight white teeth. “Of course not. I’m here to protect you from the sharks. I have offered this protection to Jack several times already, but each time he has ignored my request to meet and discuss it. That’s dangerous.” His eyes slid sideways to my father.
I swallowed. “How much for this…protection?”
“Ten thousand dollars.”
My mouth gaped open. “Ten thousand dollars!”
“To let him live tonight, I will accept half.”
“I don’t have five thousand dollars,” I said, my eyes filling.
“That’s unfortunate.” He reached inside his coat, and I put my hands out. Daddy was going to die if I didn’t think of something—fast.
“Wait! Just wait. Maybe I can get it.”
“That’s a good girl.” He took his hand from his coat, empty.
My brain was reeling. Was today’s take still here in the office? If it was, they’d probably already stolen it. Daddy kept no spare cash at the garage, I knew that much, but we did have booze. “OK. This afternoon my father and I brought at least twenty cases of whisky here. They’re in the basement, hidden in some rooms beyond the south wall. You can have them all.”
“That ain’t five thousand bucks,” spat Raymond.
“We also have at least two cases of scotch.”
“What kind of scotch?” the man asked.
“Good stuff. Imported from Europe and smuggled through Canada by rail. Expensive—we sell it for one twenty-five per bottle.” I’d just offered all our stock; it had to be worth five thousand, probably more, but I wasn’t capable of arithmetic just then.
The man thought for a moment, his eyes on me. “I’ll accept this offer. On one condition.”
“What?”
“You bring me ten thousand dollars in cash this week.”
“Ten minus five is only another five!”
He shrugged. “Those are my terms. And my final offer to let him live tonight.”
My guts churned—there was no way we could come up with ten grand in a week—but what choice did I have? “Deal. Now will you let us go?”
“I’ll let you go. He stays with me until I have the money.” A smile crept onto his lips. “Why don’t you come down to my club tomorrow night, piccolina? We’ll discuss the details of this arrangement in a more civilized manner, and you’ll bring me one hundred dollars as a sign of good faith.”
I twisted my clammy hands together. “Where are you taking him?”
“Never mind about that. I won’t kill him if you keep your word.” Then, as casually as if he were brandishing a stick of chewing gum, he pulled the gun from his coat and aimed it at my chest. “But I won’t think twice about killing both of you if you don’t.”
Fear gashed my heart so sharply I thought he might have pulled the trigger. “I’ll be there.”
“Splendid.” The corners of his mouth tipped up. He looked vaguely familiar in that moment, but I couldn’t place his face. He was about Daddy’s age, but taller, leaner through the middle. His hair was so dark it appeared black, and his features were narrow and even—no scars or evidence of a broken nose or jaw. “I confess, I didn’t like the idea of doing business with a girl,” he continued, “but this has been almost enjoyable. I feel certain once your father comes to, he will be more willing to negotiate with me. Now, how do we access those rooms?” The gun was still pointed at me, and I could hardly think. My teeth chattered.
“You—you’ll have to move the m-middle cabinet on the west wall first. Then open the phony icebox in the left corner—it has no back—and you’ll see a latch. Pull it. It releases the d-door behind the cabinet.”
He looked impressed as he slid the gun back inside his coat. “Quite an operation here. I can see why the sharks are circling.”
They left Daddy and me alone in the office, and I heard my instructions repeated in the garage. I wasn’t sure how many men were out there, but I knew the chances for escape were next to nothing. Even if I made a run for it, and I wasn’t much of a runner, that left Daddy sitting here alone, his hands tied to the chair. I looked him over, checking for the worst of the injuries. His face was almost unrecognizable—eyes bruised and squeezed shut from the swelling, nose broken again, cheeks and chin nicked with cuts—but I saw no evidence of a mortal wound. I brushed a matted lock of dark hair from his forehead, relieved to see a spot of unbloodied skin. “My God, Daddy,” I whispered. I felt sorry for him, but a little angry too. Why had he ignored this man? Had he thought the threats were idle? For Christ’s sake, he read the papers—and look at what had happened to Vince! He knew what these men were capable of; extortion was their least worrisome crime. I sank to my knees again and clutched his limp arm. “What if I can’t save you?” I whimpered before his battered form went blurry beyond my tears.
While I wept, the men emptied the basement of all our stock. Everything we had would be gone—and now they knew our hiding spot too. I scrambled to my feet when two goons lumbered in, untied Daddy, and carried him out by his arms and legs. When they exited into the alley, I leaned against the doorframe for support.
The older man appeared to my left. “Miss O’Mara. You’ll find me at Club 23 tomorrow night.” His eyes dropped to my disheveled clothing. “Wear something pretty.” Placing a black fedora on his head, he followed the others out the door, shutting it behind him.
I rushed over to lock it, but when I turned around, my skin prickled with the awareness of someone.
I wasn’t alone.
Knees trembling, I searched the shadows of the silent garage, gasping when I saw a slender man in a dark suit standing about ten feet away, perfectly still. Watching me.
Enzo.
I clenched my jaw. “Go to hell.”
He moved closer, and the sight of his handsome face both thrilled and appalled me. I stiffened when he stopped right in front of me and smiled. “Tell them Angel sent you.”
#
As soon as Enzo was gone, I locked the back door and returned to the office. Sinking into the chair, I put my hands to my head and tugged on my hair. Where were they taking Daddy? And how on earth was I going to come up with ten thousand dollars this week? I had no booze to sell, no talent for rebuilding hearses, and no hiding spot with emergency payoff cash tucked away.
But I had to get it somehow. They knew who I was and how to find me. And if they could find me, they could find my sisters. My nephews. They could bomb not only the garage but the house or the store.
Bridget had been right about Enzo.
Burning with anger, I realized Enzo had to have known about the kidnapping plot when he kissed me in the boathouse. Bastard! Why didn’t he say something then? He could have warned me, but instead he’d let me walk right into this trap. Maybe I’d even been part of the trap—he’d asked questions, followed me, discovered the boathouse. Damn him. I should have known he was trouble. But I’d never been good at resisting temptation. It wasn’t in my blood.
I chewed my thumbnail. Ten goddamn grand. I only knew one way to make that kind of cash, and since I’d just given away all our stock, the only resource I’d have to start with was my envelope full of tips. My tuition money. Crossing my arms over my belly, I lay my forehead on the desk in defeat.
Within seconds, a pounding on the back door had me bolting upright. My heart hammered wildly as I switched off the lamp and waited. More pounding, then the thumping of bodyweight being thrown into the door. Move, you idiot!
I ran out into the garage and frantically searched for somewhere to hide. My eyes roved right and left—I couldn’t open the roll-up door fast enough to escape onto Jefferson, and the only other hiding spots were the basement or—gulp—a hearse. When a gunshot blasted through the ba
ck door, busting the lock, I squeaked in terror and took a running dive into the hearse with no back end. I yanked on a curtain from the window and the whole rod came down. Burrowing underneath the black velvet and curling into a ball, I was starting a Hail Mary when I heard slow footsteps. Then creak of the office door.
Silence.
When the footsteps started up again, they seemed to be coming toward me. I curled tighter into myself, my body stiff with terror. The intruder came closer. I stopped breathing.
Then, for five agonizing seconds—nothing.
Finally, I could stand it no longer. I opened my eyes and peeked out.
Joey stood at the back of the hearse, aiming a pistol at me.
“Tiny?” He dropped the gun and gawked. “What the hell are you doing?”
“It’s a long story,” I said. “Which I might tell you, if I can ever breathe normally again.” I hoped I hadn’t wet myself. Why the hell did everybody have a gun all of a sudden?
Joey tucked his into his waistband and reached for me. “Well, I’m glad you’re not dead. I’m staying at Bridget’s tonight and when I heard noise down here, I looked out the window and saw a body being carried out and put into the back seat of a sedan.”
I let him drag me to the edge of the hearse by my forearms and pull me out. My rubbery legs threatened to buckle. “Yeah, that was Daddy. He’s not dead though. Yet.” I put both hands on my stomach, which was still pitching.
“What?” His voice cracked on the word.
I took a breath and explained, starting with the phone call and ending with my swan dive into the back of the hearse.
“Jesus. Your dad mentioned there might be some trouble.” He scratched his head. “Who were the guys? Did you recognize them?”
“There were five at least. The older one who did the talking was well dressed and maybe in his forties. Dark hair. Didn’t look like the type to do his own dirty work. Two younger guys were with him, and a couple goons.” I decided not to tell him that one of the younger guys was the fancy suit I’d been talking to in the alley.
“Did you get names?”
I hesitated. Naming names was against the rules; it got people into trouble. But I thought I could trust Joey. “One of them might be called Angel.”
“Angel DiFiore, that son of a bitch.” Joey nodded in recognition. “That’s the older one. The younger two were probably his sons, Enzo and Raymond.”
My mouth fell open. Enzo was Angel’s son?
“Angel is an associate of Tony Provenzano,” Joey went on, “the bastard who put the hit on Big Leo Scarfone and got my father killed.”
I sucked in my breath. “Was Angel involved in those murders?”
“He wasn’t put on trial, but that don’t mean he wasn’t.” Even in the dark, I saw the fury in Joey’s stance. “He came from Brooklyn a while back, and his operation was on the west side of Detroit, but now he’s over here with his sons, muscling in on the east side rackets. He’s pissing some people off.”
“How do you know so much?”
He shrugged. “I got ears.”
“Is he a bootlegger?”
Joey shook his head. “He runs a club, lottery, races, and a bunch of other things you don’t want to know about.”
A series of clanks from the alley made us both jump. “Let’s get out of here.” I grabbed his arm. “Can you come home with me?”
“Been waiting years for you to ask me that.”
I almost choked. “Please.”
We walked back at a fast clip, and I jumped at every cricket chirp and cat yowl. I checked on my sisters the minute we got in, relieved to see them both sound asleep. Mary Grace clutched a small stuffed bear she claimed she didn’t like anymore. I brushed the strawberry hair off her pale forehead and tiptoed out, shutting the door behind me.
Joey was in the kitchen. “You got anything to eat?”
“Are you kidding? How can you think about food?”
“A guy can always think about food.” He shot me a look over his shoulder. “Among other things.”
“Well, all I can think about is that ten thousand dollars.” I sat down at the kitchen table with a stubby pencil and piece of paper while Joey foraged for a snack. Some quick math told me I’d have to move about fifty-six cases of whisky to clear ten grand. Scribbling more numbers, I figured I had at least enough in my shoebox to buy twelve cases after taking out the hundred I had to give Angel tomorrow night. If I sold them all, I’d have just over two thousand bucks—a far cry from ten. But maybe it would be enough to buy me some time.
“So. What’s your plan?” Joey munched on some Uneeda Biscuits right from the box and straddled the chair across from me.
“My plan is to get the damn money. What choice do I have?”
He was silent a few seconds, then spoke low. “You don’t want to go to the cops, do you?”
“Are you kidding me? I know better than that,” I scoffed. “Angel’d kill him. And I don’t want to tell Bridget about this yet, either. She’ll panic.”
“Do you think she has the money, though? Maybe she’d give it to you.”
I shook my head. “She’s on her own with three boys, and she has Martin to pay too.”
“Who the hell is Martin?”
“The assistant manager she hired after you left for Chicago. Anyway, after what happened to Vince, I don’t want Bridget involved at all.”
“OK, but she’s gonna notice your pop’s missing.”
I thought for a moment. “I’ll tell her he went down to Cleveland to deliver a car to somebody. He’s done that before.”
Joey shoved one last cracker into his mouth and brushed off his hands. “I’m coming with you tomorrow night.”
“That’s not a good idea. You might run your mouth and cause trouble. Besides, what harm can they do at a crowded club?”
“You don’t want me to answer that question. I’m going, and that’s that.”
I thought about arguing, but realized it might be smart to have someone with me, even if it was big-mouth Joey. “OK, fine.”
“Now let’s talk about getting those ten G’s,” he said. “That’s a lotta dough.”
“I need to make a run as soon as possible.”
Joey rubbed the stubble on his chin. “Tiny, I think you need…some friends in this.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, you’re a girl alone trying to defend yourself against guys who hustle people for a living, and that’s putting it nicely. You need allies.”
I blinked at him. “Like who?”
“Well, I got some friends I know from when I was at the Bishop school. They used to be with Big Leo, but they’re kinda doing their own thing now. They call themselves the River Gang, and—”
I put my hands up. “No. No way. I’m not getting involved in any Italian gang wars, Joey. All I want is to pay off Angel DiFiore and get Daddy released.”
“But DiFiore’s not just going to go away. Even your dad is going to need allies after this.”
“That’ll be his problem then. I’m not interested in revenge or power or allies or anything else—I just want my father back. Now are you going to help me or not?”
Joey exhaled and scratched his head. “We’ll need dark. Tomorrow night’s out. How about Sunday?”
“OK.”
“Do you have the money to buy with?”
I swallowed. “Yes.”
“What about a distributor?”
“I’ll call our usual guy, Blaise. I just hope he doesn’t get prickly about selling to me without Daddy there.” My stomach turned over. “And I hope the boat has enough gasoline.”
“Leave that to me.” He swung his leg over the top of the chair and picked up his cap from the table. “I better go. Delivery truck’s coming early in the morning and I told Bridget I’d help unload.”
“What time will we meet tomorrow night?” I whispered, following him to the front door.
“I’ll pick you up at nine.” He paused, glancing
over my shoulder up the stairs. “Do you want me to stay?”
Yes. The word popped into my mind before I had a chance to think about it. Joey noticed my hesitation.
“I don’t mind staying here, if it will make you feel safer.” His voice was soft and low, and it was the first time I’d ever heard him say something like that without joking. Standing there in the dark, I was tempted to tell him to stay. With his full, familiar lips so close, I was tempted to do more than that.
What the hell is with you today? Say goodnight! “No,” I said, stepping back. “You can go. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
After he left, I locked the door, crept into my room, and undressed. Wearily I climbed back into bed and lay there, my body numb with fatigue but my brain buzzing with questions. Where were they keeping Daddy? Would they hurt him again? Were we safe here? I chewed on the edge of the sheet. Now that I knew a locked door was no match for Enzo DiFiore, I wasn’t sure I’d ever feel safe again. What was his role in all this? And why had he kissed me like that?
My eyes slammed shut. Jesus, you couldn’t trust anybody. Not even men with movie star faces whose kisses felt like fire in your veins.
Rolling to my side, I crooked one elbow underneath my head. I’m a horrible person. How can I even think about kissing Enzo with Daddy being held hostage? What was the matter with me? And had I really been tempted to kiss Joey at the door? That boy had been nothing but trouble my entire life, and now it looked he’d make a career out of it. Was he working for the River Gang? It was hard to believe he’d want the same kind of life his father had—or the same kind of death. But he sure had a lot of information. Could I trust him?
I wanted to trust him.
But I also wanted a gun.
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Melanie Harlow likes her martinis dry, her lipstick red, and her history with the naughty bits left in. She’s the author of the Speak Easy historical series as well as Frenched and Yanked, the first noveland novella in a sexy contemporary romance series. Find her sipping cocktails at posh places in Detroit, or look for her online…
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