The two men exited the building. Jack pushed the door open, and his spine quivered as if someone had just walked over his grave. The street and sidewalk were empty. It was as if the men had disappeared into the night.
Not caring about the lights being left on, he locked the door and jogged to the parking lot, looking for any trace of the men the entire way. There wasn’t any. Not a single sign.
He jumped in his Chrysler and started the engine. The tires squealed as he shot out of the lot. He planted his foot on the gas pedal, pressed it to the floor and he didn’t let it up until he pulled into the parking lot of the apartment building.
Every thud of his heart sent another surge of dread through him. He cut the engine, jumped out of the car and ran for the apartment building.
He threw open the door and flew up the steps two at a time. At the landing, he stumbled. At the landing, both his feet and his mind stumbled. He couldn’t go running in there, that would scare the bejesus out of her for no real reason. If there was money in it, the mob was involved. He’d known that from the beginning. Every studio had backers of that sort. It was a given. He just hadn’t expected it to hit home this hard.
What he needed to do was keep protecting Helen and Grace. Keep them close so he could keep an eye on them. There was no reason for Helen to know who owned the new theater because it didn’t matter. It was all just business as usual. The movie business was cutthroat, with or without mob backing.
It wasn’t in the same league as bootlegging or dope dealing. There weren’t raids on theaters or studios because the gangsters were behind the scenes, gathering up the money they made. They doled it out too, doubled what they’d made by investing it in the next movie.
It had been that way for years, and would continue to be that way.
His hand shook as he inserted the key in the lock, but his troubles seem to fly away as he opened the door. As his chest filled with warmth.
Helen was on the sofa, curled in one corner, her head on the arm, asleep.
He eased the door shut and inserted the key in the lock.
“You’re home.”
The sound of her voice stirred the warmth inside him, making it hotter and sending it to every part of his body. He locked the door and pulled out the key before turning around.
She stretched her arms over her head as she sat up. He flattened his hand on the table beside the door at the way his insides reacted to watching her arch her back.
“I saved your supper.” She ran a hand over her hair and then stood up. “I just have to heat it up.”
He was hot enough already. “I’ll eat it cold.”
“Nonsense.” She walked toward the kitchen. “It will only take me a minute.”
A haze hovered around Jack. That’s what happened. The ability to focus disappeared whenever she was around. How the hell had it come to this point?
“Beverly said she can watch Grace tomorrow night,” she said. “I asked her when she stopped by to say you’d be late.”
He nodded. Idiotically. She was in the kitchen and couldn’t see him. His stomach sank as a quiver of fear coiled around his spine. Tomorrow night. He’d known she’d catch eyes at the party last night, but he hadn’t thought any of those eyes would have belonged to the likes of those who had visited him tonight.
“Are you all right?”
He glanced toward the doorway, where she stood wiping her hands on a towel. Her smile was soft, so was the frown between her eyes. “Yes, I’m fine.”
“You’ve had a long day.” She held out a hand. “Come and eat.”
Against his better judgment, he stepped forward and took ahold of her hand. Their eyes met, and the desire to pull her close, to kiss her, struck hard and fast. He could imagine how sweet her lips would taste. How soft they’d be beneath his. He almost gave in, but stopped before his lips could touch hers.
Needing something to pacify the urges raging inside him, he softly ran the back of a knuckle down her cheek. Her eyes never wavered, never left his. She was so different from any other woman he’d known. A mixture of sweet innocence and bold determination.
“Jack?”
Like most things in his life, he owed Joe for her being here right now. And like most things with Joe, it was more complicated than necessary. He dropped his hand and walked into the kitchen. “You and Grace will come with me to the studio tomorrow.”
“Why?”
Putting his acting heritage to use, he shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly. “You can watch the filming again.” He arrived at the stove, where a pot of stew simmered. “You can go to bed, I’ll clean this up after eating. We’ll leave early.”
She nudged him aside. “I’ll go to bed after I clean up the kitchen.” She ladled stew into a bowl. “And I’ll do that after you eat.”
That is exactly what happened, and while lying on the sofa after she’d gone into the bedroom, he once again admitted he didn’t get any acting genes from either of his parents. Joe got all of those. He got the looks too, and right now, Jack was wondering if Joe got all the brains, as well.
He didn’t seem to have a lick right now. He had a woman and baby living with him, both of whom he cared more about each day, and he had the mob breathing down his neck. Of all the pickles Joe had gotten him into, he’d never ended up with anything close to this.
His night was restless, and the following day wasn’t any calmer. Another camera problem, this time a film break that required two scenes to be reshot. Then a cloudburst, which never happened this time of year, delaying the shoot until it passed, and to wrap up the day, the Broadbents made a visit, Fred and Cliff, claiming with all the hype of his latest movie, their shares should be worth more.
Dealing with them had not only been the easiest issue to solve, it had been the most satisfying. Jack had grabbed them both by the back of the collars and marched them down the hallway, telling them they didn’t own any shares. They’d provided Joe a loan, which was almost paid off, and they wouldn’t get any more money once that was done.
He finalized it by shoving them both out the door, one after the other. Cliff got a swift kick in the butt since he was the second one out the door.
His satisfaction waned slightly by the look in Helen’s eyes. Since it was time for them to leave in order to get ready for the party, which irritated him because Newton was still filming, he grabbed his coat and escorted her to the door.
“Who were those men?” she asked once they were in the car, and Grace settled on her lap.
He could lie, but there was no reason to. “Some men Joe borrowed money from.”
“Are they gangsters? Belong to a mob?”
“No. They are the Broadbent brothers. They’d like to belong to a mob, and pretend they do, but they are too slimy for even the worst of the gangsters.”
“What do you mean by that?”
He shifted the car in gear and pulled out of his parking space. “There’s a code of honor amongst gangsters.”
“There’s no honor in killing people.”
The iciness of her tone sent a shiver up his spine. Newspapers across the nation hosted stories on how Chicago, Detroit, New York were the birthplaces of major organized crime families. He had no idea what she may have experienced living in Chicago her entire life, and didn’t want to frighten her. Didn’t want to tell her it was here, too. Just as it was in every major city, and smaller ones alike.
Choosing his words carefully, he agreed, “No, there’s not. And there is plenty of that happening. It’s in all the newspapers, but the majority of the violence is between outfits. There is competition between them just like there is competition in every other business, but the average palooka in America doesn’t have anything to fear from gangsters.” He wasn’t trying to sugarcoat it, for there was plenty of danger being associated with any gang. On the inside and the outside.
It had
always been his job to be the voice of reason, and this was no different. “Where there’s money, there is corruption. From our government right down to the newspaper boy peddling his papers on the corner. It’s not only his job to sell papers, but to make sure some other boy, selling another paper, doesn’t come along and impede upon his turf.”
A frown marred her face, yet there was thought in her eyes. So was skepticism.
He shrugged and pulled up one more explanation that might help her understand. “Although it passed, a large majority of people don’t like prohibition. They don’t like the government telling them what they can and can’t consume and many applaud the gangsters for finding a way to provide a product that had been available for centuries. Yes, bootleggers are making a lot of money. It’s how supply and demand works, but they are also spending a lot of money. The automobile industry loves them, so do clothes manufacturers, jewelers, home builders, city municipalities. Police precincts can’t afford cars powerful enough to chase down the one’s gangsters have, so they’ve sold out to other gangs, ones offering to donate even more powerful cars—to chase down others of course—giving themselves immunity.”
“Are you part of a gang?” she asked.
“No, I’m not part of a gang.” That wasn’t a lie. He wasn’t part of one, even though the studio was now deeply involved, financially, with one.
She shook her head. “You sound as if you are. As if you believe in what they are doing.”
“I’m not, won’t ever be. I don’t believe in their tactics or their antics, but I do believe in free enterprise. That businesses have a right to operate and succeed without governmental control.”
“Gangsters don’t have anything to do with that.”
“Yes, they do. Good or bad, without the success they are having right now, without the money they are pouring back into the economy, I wouldn’t have a business. The jobs their spending creates is how people can afford to go see the movies.” It may not be legitimate, but it was what it was, and that was the truth. The other truth was it would only continue to grow. There was nothing to stop it.
He pulled the car into the apartment building parking lot and cut the engine. “I can’t say I like it, in fact, I don’t, and I don’t see it changing, not for a long, long time.”
Her face was scrunched into a frown.
“But, I like making movies,” he said honestly. “And I’m good at it.” He opened his door, but turned to her before climbing out. “There’s good and bad in everything, but we all have the choice to look at things from different angles, find what affects us and those we care about. That’s when we have to decide what we want to focus on. The good, or the bad. Long ago, I chose to focus on the good.”
* * *
Helen’s mind was swirling so fast and hard, it made her head hurt. Was there really good and bad in everything as he said? Her family, especially Mother, had tried to shield her from the bad, up until the North End Gang had attacked her cousin, and it could no longer be hidden. After the raid on the restaurant, full of grief, all she’d been able to see, to focus on, was the bad. The corruption of her family ties. But, since coming here, she’d remembered there had been good in the past, in her family. Good times, happy times. But she still couldn’t ignore the bad. Things she’d never forget. Things no matter how far she ran, she’d never be released from.
How could she focus on the good?
She glanced down at Grace, and her heart tumbled at the happy little face smiling back up at her. Drawing a deep breath, she kissed the baby’s forehead. From the moment Grace had entered her life, she’d been the sunshine in an otherwise dark world.
The car door opened and she glanced up at Jack.
“Beverly said she’d be here within the hour,” he said. “Does that give you enough time?”
“Yes,” she answered, her mind still swimming in a never-ending sea of questions. Grace was the good in her world. So was Jack, but was she the good in their world? No. If the Outfit found her, they’d drag her back into the family. She’d never be able to escape the binds that tied her to violence and death. There was no good in that, and she certainly didn’t want Grace or Jack exposed to any of it.
She climbed out of the car and crossed the parking lot. “Have you heard from Joe?”
Jack pulled open the door of the apartment building before answering, “No.”
Helen entered the building and climbed the steps. Beverly had readily agreed to watch Grace again this evening, said she would anytime. That she enjoyed it. Others probably would too. Did that mean Jack didn’t really need her to take care of Grace for him? That he was saying that he did only because he knew she had nowhere else to go?
He unlocked the apartment door and held it open for her to cross the threshold. The jumbled mess inside her mind was making her stomach churn, her heart ache.
Unable to look at him, she walked straight to the sofa and propped Grace in the corner with a couple of pillows. “If you don’t hear from Joe by the time the movie is done, what will you do with Grace?”
“Do with Grace? I won’t do anything with her. I mean, I’ll keep her with me, for as long as it takes. She’s my niece.”
“I know, but—” His hands settled on her shoulders, stealing her thoughts.
“Hey,” he whispered, forcing her to turn around. “I didn’t mean for all that talk about gangsters to upset you.” His arms folded around her shoulders. “You don’t have anything to worry about.”
But she did. She had a lot to worry about. She planted her hands on the lapels of his jacket to push him away, but the solidness of his chest made her look up instead. The sincerity in his eyes made the air catch in her throat.
“No one will hurt you, or Grace,” he said. “I promise.”
That was not something he could promise, no matter how much she wished it to be true. He didn’t know who she was. What she was. A member of the mob. By way of birth. That couldn’t change. Not ever. Closing her eyes at the dread rising inside her, she shook her head.
“Look at me.”
She bit her lips together and fought at the sting in her eyes.
“Helen, look at me.”
His command was soft, gentle, but also serious.
Lifting her chin, she blinked at the moisture on her lashes, and swallowed against the compassion in his dark eyes. “We can’t change the world, but we can change the way we look at it.”
“The good,” she said. He believed that. If only she could.
“Yes,” he whispered. “The good.”
His hands grasped the sides of her face, and softly, the heat of his mouth covered hers. His lips touched her so gently, her heart seemed to grow in size, filling her entire chest.
He tilted her head slightly, slanting his lips over hers more completely. He kissed her several times, tenderly. Her lips quivered, and moved toward his, meeting each of his delicate kisses.
An awareness arose inside her. Sent her heart thudding harder with each soft merger of their lips. Her fingers curled around the lapels of his jacket, and she held on tighter as the pressure of his mouth grew.
She’d never experienced the things stirring inside her right now. She’d thought about kissing him many times, but had never imagined it would be this all-consuming.
It was good. So very good.
Heat filled her as everything about her tingled and a craving for more made thinking impossible.
The tip of his tongue touched her lips and she gasped slightly at the thrill it caused. His tongue slipped between her parted lips, entered her mouth. She clutched on to his jacket harder and stretched onto her toes, knowing on some primal level that this was the more she’d craved.
The kiss seemed to last forever, but at the same time it seemed to end sooner than she was ready for. His arms tightened around her, held her firmly against him. They were both breathing hard and her
heart was thudding so fast, she wasn’t sure if she’d ever catch her breath.
Once again, he forced her to look at him, this time with the pressure of a single knuckle beneath her chin. His eyes were sparkling, and the dimple was in his cheek. “The good,” he said, with a nod.
Helen couldn’t have bit back her own smile if her life depended on it.
“I’ve wanted to do that for a long time,” he said.
She had no choice but to be completely honest. “I’ve wanted you to do that for a long time.”
“You have?”
Heat flushed into her cheeks, but it wasn’t embarrassment. It was excitement. “Yes. I have.”
His lips landed on hers again. Thrilled, she buried her hands in his hair, and pressed her hips against his, her breasts against his solid, firm chest.
Focusing on the good, she parted her lips, welcoming him completely. He tasted wonderful. Like the sticks of peppermint gum she found in the pockets of his suit jacket before brushing the jacket off and hanging it in the closet.
Her heart couldn’t possibly beat any harder, any faster. If it did, it would fly right out of her body.
Just when she thought that might happen, his tongue slid out of her mouth and he kissed her lips, then the tip of her nose, and then her forehead before tucking her head beneath his chin.
She stood there, knees weak and aching in unique ways and places. He rocked her slightly, back and forth, for some time, before he leaned back and looked down at her.
“Beverly will be here soon. You go get ready. I’ll see to Grace.”
Too lightheaded to think, she let her arms slip away from him, and then turned around and made her way into the bedroom on legs that could barely carry her. Closing the door behind her, she leaned back, and let the door hold her up.
It was a moment, or more, before she had the wherewithal to comprehend what had happened, and another moment for her to fully understand how wonderful, how alive, his kisses had left her.
Baby On His Hollywood Doorstep (Brides 0f The Roaring Twenties Book 1) Page 16