by Monica Owens
Fuck if that didn’t just screw me over.
Chapter Six
Baby-doll cleaned up nice. Marty’s girl brought Charlotte’s clothes over the very next day, and after she changed into something appropriate, she threw herself into cleaning the speakeasy with gusto. Helped Deats stock the bar and even cleaned the sticky floor. She wore a simple homespun dress, her hair laced on her head with some curls falling out on the sides. Hell, I didn’t know what the fuck had happened, but she looked more beautiful in her normal clothes than she did in the damn flapper dress she’d worn yesterday.
I caught Deats staring at her. I caught Joe staring at her. I even caught one of the twins looking at her. It wasn’t hard to tell why Capone wanted this one. Probably the same reason I did.
When you live your life on the outside of the law, on the outside of society, there’s only so many types of ladies that come around. Sometimes you get tired of the nasty, used-up women in this business. Sometimes a ray of sunshine shows up at your door and you can’t help but be enamored with her.
That and she was fucking gorgeous.
The night before I’d made her give me the bank info back in Nebraska. Then I made Dottie and Fern take her up to their apartment. No fucking way was I getting anywhere near a bed with her. Before anyone was downstairs, I gathered up the money I’d need and went to send the bills out to Nebraska. Got a receipt for my wire and everything. Shit was over. But I was going to be a bastard and make her stay.
I could have sent her home. Would have been the right thing to do. But I sure as fuck didn’t have the balls to let her go. Fuck, if I could sit on my ass and watch her flounce around my speakeasy for a few weeks, what harm could come of that?
Besides, Capone wanted her. Who says he wouldn’t have followed her back to Nebraska to snatch her up? Keeping her close meant keeping her safe.
Yeah, and I really was a fucking god.
So I watched her. Brought my fucking work out to a table in the middle of the bar. Watched her charm Deats. Watched her fucking make friends with Dottie and the hard-as-nails Fern. Watched Joe trip over himself to make her smile.
I simmered, watching them all. Didn’t get a lick of work done, either.
Around noon she approached me carrying a plate. “Mr de Bacchio?”
I looked up from pretending to work. “Yeah?”
“Dottie and I made lunch. Would you like some?”
The wave of lemon scent that seemed to follow her everywhere nearly overwhelmed me. “Sit down,” I answered.
She did. Quickly. And pushed the plate to my side of the table.
Her face along her jaw line was purplish black. A nasty bruise and swelling took over the apple of her cheek and the bridge of her nose. I gestured to her face. “How’s it feeling?”
She put a small hand to her cheek. “Hurts.”
“Anyone ever fucking hit you before?”
She shook her head, her face flushing.
“Yeah, well, getting clocked in the face hurts. That’s why it ain’t ever gonna happen again. Not if I have anything to say about it.” I let my eyes rove over her, now that she was close. Now that I didn’t have to sneak my looks. Shit, she was beautiful. Most farm girls I’d met were thick and heavy. Not this one. She was sleek, her bones delicate, and the lines of her body elegant. I had a flash of that perfect neck falling back, her eyes rolling up in her head, that full ass bottom lip of hers being nipped by white teeth as I gave her biggest fucking orgasm she’d ever have—
“—In Chicago?” she finished asking.
I blinked. Damn. What? I tapped my pencil on the table. “Huh?”
“How long have you been in Chicago?” she asked again.
“Too damn long,” I answered.
She glanced around, clearly uncomfortable with my answer. Maybe with me. I couldn’t apologize, though. Never had before. Then again, I’d never wanted to be someone that a lady wanted to be around.
“Sent the money,” I said abruptly.
Her big blue eyes shuttled to my face. “You did?”
“Said I would. I did.” I pulled the receipt out of my pocket and tossed the crumpled piece of paper to her. “You’ll stay the summer, then go home. If that fuckwit banker tries anything, have him call me.”
She picked up the piece of paper with shaky hands and spread it out on the table. One hand went to her mouth and the other held the paper down. She looked up at me with tears in her eyes, “Mr de Bacchio—”
“Angelo.”
She swallowed. “An-angelo,” she stumbled. “You have no idea how much this means to me.”
“Should mean a lot to your fucking family, sending your virgin ass out here to get a job.”
Her brows furrowed and her eyes narrowed. That fucking delicate spine of hers went ramrod straight. “I didn’t ask you to do this. They didn’t ask me to come here, either. It was my idea.”
“It was a stupid idea.”
“It was the only thing I could do.”
“I didn’t say it wasn’t.”
“So why are you saying it was stupid?”
I shrugged. “Because it is.”
“You make no sense.”
“Should’ve found a sorry bastard and got married,” I grated out. “Saved yourself from that banker. Saved yourself from getting involved in your parents’ money troubles—”
As if that spine couldn’t get straighter, she sat up more. “You don’t know anything about me.”
“I know you’re beautiful. Must’ve had a few bastards chasing after what’s under that skirt.”
Her eyes narrowed further. “Must you be so uncouth?”
“Never said I was couth, baby-doll. Told you I was a gangster. They don’t make couth gangsters.”
“Maybe you should try it.”
“Maybe you should remember who paid off your family’s debt and hold your fucking tongue.”
That shut her up. She was beautiful, yes, but I sure as shit wasn’t going to listen to her bad mouth me to my face.
She slid out of her chair and stood. “Will you be needing anything else?”
Just to be a hard ass, just to be a prick, I nodded. “Yeah. I need to get laid. Got anyone in mind?”
She slapped a hand down on the table and whirled away.
Fuck if she didn’t have a nice ass.
Watched her sashay all the way back to the bar, hips twitching and fists clenched.
I might fall in love with this woman.
****
If that girl had anything, it was guts. She took a couple days off to soothe the bruise on her face, but after that, she came down to work. Mostly she stayed with Deats behind the bar. I tried to get her to take it easy, to take more time off, but she was adamant. Said she could earn her keep.
I didn’t want anyone to look at her.
Just like Fern and Dottie, she didn’t wear the flapper dress. Boys knew those girls were off limits, so Fern and Dottie must’ve told her not to wear anything flashy. Shit, all I kept picturing was lifting that homespun dress and ramming into her from behind.
To think that Capone wouldn’t come after me was wishful thinking. Having Charlotte out and about for him to see was killing me. I couldn’t talk her into anything else, though. One of the twins stayed behind the bar with Deats and Charlotte, his beady eyes roaming over all the faces.
Ebby’s had been closed since the fire. I was damn proud of that fire. Anyway, it brought the law in and I’d heard on the streets that Capone was looking for me. Let him walk in my front door. Let him walk in with every other bastard in the city because I was making money hand over fist with Ebby’s closed.
I was in the corner, watching a game of poker, but mostly watching that baby-doll behind the bar, when I saw her eyes widen. She hurriedly pushed some of my best stuff across the bar, then said something to Deats. He frowned, but Charlotte had already turned to flee.
One stepped out from behind the bar, and I was already moving to intercept. Three burly guys were m
oving toward the bar and I recognized one of them. The one that had clocked Charlotte in the face. Fucker tried to rape her, he wasn’t getting near her.
Just as I saw the upstairs door slam shut, I cut the guys off. I put a hand to one of their chests. “Hold up, boys.”
The three of them stopped. Only two sets of eyes settled on me, the bastard who’d hit Charlotte never stopped scanning the crowd.
“Not sure how you got through but you ain’t welcome here, gentlemen.”
One of the guys looked me up and down. “You de Bacchio?”
I mimicked his movements and looked him up and down. “Who the fuck are you?”
He smoothed the front of his suit. “You got something our boss wants back.”
“Yeah? And what would that be?”
“Little farm girl he picked up. Fresh off the train.”
“No one here like that.”
“I beg to differ.”
I stepped forward, my chest pushing against his. I towered over him. He might be a gangster, but I had several inches on him and more than likely I had better skills. I bumped him. “You’ll be begging, that’s for sure. Just not for her. Maybe for your life.”
“You threatening me?” The guy asked. The other two guys reached inside their pockets. I had no doubt they’d pull weapons in this crowded room. They didn’t give a shit.
I bumped him again, this time sending him back a few inches. “Get the fuck out.”
“She belongs to our boss.”
“She belongs to herself,” I countered. “Get the fuck out.”
“Doc gave her to me,” the man who hit her said.
“You ain’t welcome here,” I said again, my fingers curling into fists. “Go tell your boss that she’s off limits.”
The man held up his hands, palms up. “Hate to be where I’m not welcome.”
“Out,” I said again. My breath came faster and my heart was pounding. I wanted to smash this guy’s face into the table behind him. But I let One grab him by the back of his collar and spin him toward the door. The other two guys followed and the encounter was over.
I waited until One came back in and gave me a thumbs-up before I turned on my heel. I plowed through the crowd and the upstairs door. I took the stairs two at a time and didn’t even knock at Dottie and Fern’s apartment door.
There were clothes everywhere. Lines strung up with ladies’ unmentionables hung over them. I yanked them down so I could get through, tossing the soggy material aside. The apartment was small, but the women had made the most of their space. Shit was everywhere. Dottie had moved in with her kid and his shit was everywhere, too.
I found her huddled on the bathroom floor, her knees pulled up to her chest and her arms wrapped around them. Forehead pressed against her knees.
“This what you’re going to do all night?”
Her head popped up at my voice. “Are they gone?”
“Yeah, Baby, they’re gone.”
She wiped the tears off her cheeks with the back of her hand. “I’d like to stay up here if I could.”
“Baby, I told you not to come down for weeks.”
“I need to pay you back.”
“I don’t need shit from you.”
Wasn’t that a lie? I did need something from her. Considering someone tried to get it by force from her just a few days ago, I felt it was wise not to mention what I wanted.
I leaned against the door frame. “You knew all those guys?”
She jerked her head up and down.
“Any of them try something? Besides that one bastard?”
Now she shook her head no.
I looked out over the living room, tossed with toys, clothes, and furniture. “So what are we gonna do with you, baby-doll?”
“I could go home,” she murmured.
“And have them follow you there? With no protection?” I looked down at her, so pitiful on the floor. “Fuck no.”
She flinched. Probably she hadn’t heard a filthy mouth so much in her upbringing.
I squatted down next to her. “You’re safe here.”
“They came right inside,” she countered, her eyes filling up with tears. “They came right in and demanded me, didn’t they? How am I safe here?”
I didn’t get a lot of people questioning my word. “Trust me, you are.”
“I don’t trust you,” she whispered. “I don’t even know you.”
Not the right thing to say. I was jacked up from the confrontation downstairs. I was jacked up with lust for her. I couldn’t take either frustration out on her, but damned if I didn’t.
I dropped to my knees and hooked my hands behind her calves. She squealed, but I dragged her across the tile and between my spread legs. Her face was so close to mine, her breath puffing along my jaw. I carefully ran my fingers down the injured side of her face. Baby-doll’s lids flickered, those long, lush lashes fluttering against her cheeks.
“You grew up on a farm, huh?” I asked.
She swallowed and nodded.
“So you know all about fucking, don’t you?”
Her eyes lifted and widened.
“Yeah, you do. So just so you know, I would give anything to mount you like a stallion mounts a mare. Fuck you good and hard till you scream. Make you forget where you were. I’d make it good for you. Those guys would use you up and toss you out. So you may not trust me, but I’m all you got, Baby. I’m straight up honest with you, too. Not like those fucks.” I leaned closer, my lips against her ear. “When you put your fingers between your legs tonight, when you rub yourself, you just think about what it would be like if it was me. Trust me? Baby, you don’t have to trust me for me to make it good. Just remember that.”
I pulled away and got to my feet, my fucking heart pounding in my ears. I didn’t once look back at her, but I knew Charlotte was watching me walk out.
I felt those damn eyes on me the whole fucking time.
Chapter Seven
Charlotte kept to herself the next few days. She moved into the vacant apartment away from Dottie and Fern’s mess. She also didn’t come downstairs to work for about a week.
I stayed away from her too. I wasn’t planning on marrying the girl, but I sure as hell wanted to fuck her. Thought I’d made that pretty clear. Had nothing to do with the money I’d shelled out for her family. I’d paid all of Dottie’s husband’s funeral expenses and I’d never asked Dottie for a roll in the hay. The money didn’t mean shit to me and I think maybe she knew that.
I didn’t go home to my apartment either. With Capone sniffing around, I sure as fuck didn’t want to be jumped if I walked home at three in the morning. So I set up on the couch in my office. Mick stayed too, but Joe and Marty didn’t.
They should’ve.
A few mornings after the confrontation with Capone’s goons, Joe was late. Didn’t mean too much because Joe was late a lot. We got down to work, counted out the night before’s take, and got to ordering shit.
When it was noon, I started to wonder where he was.
Around two, Mrs. Dorchester, the lady who ran the bookstore, came down the rickety stairs. I think we all stopped when we saw her. You could hear a pin drop in the speakeasy. We were all there, even One and Two, and as a group we waited to hear what she had to say.
The woman hated me, that wasn’t a secret, but she liked the rest of them. Maybe she could tell I wasn’t what I said I was. But the pain in her eyes when she looked at all of us told me what I needed to know.
I strode toward her. “Where is he?”
She looked up at me, her blue eyes flat and tired. “I went out the back to throw trash….”
“He’s out back?”
She nodded.
“He dead?”
Her eyes closed briefly and I didn’t wait for her nod. I raced up the stairs and through the back of the bookstore. The back door rattled when I pushed through it and I didn’t bother to close it quietly.
There was a heap of clothing next to the bag of trash Mrs. Do
rchester had taken out. I could see a foot, a hat, and Joe’s favorite suit. I heard more people push through the door behind me as I moved closer.
He was face up, his throat slit from ear to ear. Blood pooled beneath him, but not that much. So he hadn’t been killed here. Just dumped here. There was an envelope sticking out of his front pocket. I leaned down and pulled it out.
I heard a gasp behind me. I knew it was her. I turned and saw Baby standing there, her hands over her mouth. Instinctively I moved to stand in front of him, but she knew. She’d seen.
“Baby…” I said softly.
Her big blue eyes moved over my face. “It’s my fault,” she whispered.
“Naw, Baby, it ain’t your fault.”
Dottie came up and put her arm around Charlotte. “Come on, let’s get you inside.”
“But I—”
“Inside, Baby,” Dottie argued gently. Most of the crew had picked up on my nickname for Charlotte. Hard not to. She looked like a baby-doll, porcelain and breakable. Dottie treated her as such, and was gentle with her, like a big sister. She turned Baby back to the door with a glance over at me.
Mick and Marty came to stand with me.
“What’s the note say?” Marty asked, his eyes on his friend.
I slapped it at Mick, who slit the envelope and pulled out a piece of paper. “Just says ‘Warning.’” He turned the paper so we could see it.
I didn’t look. I stared down at Joe, his eyes open and unseeing, flies buzzing around his bloody and torn throat. “Bury him,” I ordered. “No one fucks with us,” I added, turning to my men. “She’s mine. You guys got that?”
Mick nodded but Marty frowned. “So Joe’s dead because of a bird?”
I grabbed a fistful of his shirt. “Joe’s dead because he didn’t watch his back. Doesn’t have shit to do with Baby.”
Marty lifted his chin. “I ain’t dying for a bird.”
Mick slapped his hand on Marty’s back. “Fuck, man. Yeah, you would. You’d die for any of us. Angelo keeps us safe and you know it. If someone was fucking with Dottie or Fern, you know you wouldn’t have a problem.”