No. You can’t.
“We should go. I promised to return you within twenty minutes.” Enzo gave me that slow smile, which made my belly go hollow. “And I do rather value those body parts your friend threatened.”
“Right.” I licked my lips as I walked to the door, and Enzo waited until I reached it before turning off the lamp. His silhouette came closer in the darkness, and my insides tightened.
Oh yes, I can.
“If you’ll move, I’ll unlock the door,” he said.
Fear and some other untamable feeling buzzed through me. “No.”
“No?”
“We still have five minutes.” I rushed forward and threw my arms around his neck, crushing my lips to his. For a moment he was stunned; I heard his keys hit the floor. Then strong arms locked around my back, and his mouth opened wide over mine, his tongue lashing inside with deep, demanding strokes. My body ignited in a way I hadn’t anticipated. Keep your senses. This is just a ploy. You’re angry with him. Our mouths battled each other with such ferocity I couldn’t breathe, and I imagined the fire between us consuming all the oxygen in the room. He tasted like temptation—whisky and smoke.
Pressing my forearms against his shoulders, I jumped up and wrapped my legs around his waist. Enzo pushed my back up against the door, his hands slipping beneath my dress to the undersides of my legs, his fingers gripping the bare skin above my stockings. Gasping, I squeezed his torso between my thighs as his mouth traveled across my face and down my neck. His fingers edged inside the lace of my step-in, teasing the soft pink folds at my center while his tongue lingered in the hollow at the base of my throat. Something deep and powerful surged within me. Threading my fingers through his dark hair, I pulled his head back and we stared hard at each other before our mouths slammed together once more. He shifted my weight under one arm and found the side fasteners of my dress with the other.
Somehow, he undid seven hooks and eyes with one hand.
His fingers slipped inside my dress and pressed against the bare skin on my lower back. Then he swung me away from the door and moved to the desk, setting me on its edge with my dress bunched up around my hips. Standing between my knees, he ran his hands up my pale white thighs, which glowed in the dark above my stockings. My chest heaved with ragged breaths as he shrugged off his coat and loosened his tie. My hands itched to touch him, to travel under starched cotton and over hot skin, to reach low and feel exactly how he wanted me. To know for certain what he could to do to me, if I let him. For a moment, I forgot every circumstance that brought me here and nearly reached for the buttons on his trousers.
But just for a moment.
“Enzo,” I whispered instead, gripping the edge of the desk. “We can’t.”
He put his hands on my buttocks and pulled me flush against him. “You said we had five minutes.” He pressed the hard length of his cock between my legs.
Oh God, that feels so good. I struggled for control. “It’s been five minutes. And neither of us wants to get caught here.”
He paused. “You’re right. Besides, what I’d like to do to you takes more than five minutes.”
My heart thumped wildly as he backed off. I brought my knees together and tried to gather my wits. Ask him. Now. I took a deep breath. “I need more time too.”
“Oh?” He sounded amused as he picked up his coat and slipped it back on, as if he thought I’d been referring to sex. Dropping to my feet, I fastened my dress with trembling fingers.
“Yes. More time to come up with the first five grand.”
He froze for a second before adjusting his collar. “Is that what we’re doing here?”
“Couldn’t you intervene for me? Ask for more time?”
“Why would I do that?” His tone had gone cool and even.
My spine stiffened. “I thought you liked me.”
He didn’t answer right away. “I’ll admit there’s something I find hard to resist about you,” he finally said, pulling a handkerchief from a pocket inside his coat. He wiped the lipstick off his mouth before handing it to me. “So I’ll tell you that as long as you do what’s asked of you, no one gets hurt.” The look in his eyes was razor-sharp. “But don’t mistake attraction for affection.”
His words infuriated me, but fear tempered my reaction. “What if I can’t do what’s asked of me?”
He walked away, picked up his keys from where they’d dropped and unlocked the door. When he pulled it open, the light from the hallway spilled in, washing him in gold. He watched as I quickly wiped my mouth and smoothed my hair, uncomfortable under his scrutiny. “Don’t underestimate yourself, Tiny. Nobody else is.”
#
Joey was waiting for me near the club entrance. Chin jutted. Eyebrows furrowed. At the sight of us, he released his crossed arms and puffed up his chest a bit, but relief eased his features.
“I see that your date is glad to have you back in one piece,” said Enzo from behind me. Since I’d asked for more time, his demeanor had been all business. No wink-and-smile banter, no flirty innuendo, and no touching. Was he actually angry thinking I’d kissed him under false pretenses? Maybe he did like me—at least more than he was willing to admit.
I glanced over my shoulder. “I never said he was my date.”
“In any case, I’ve returned you as promised, and—”
“Not exactly.” I turned and walked backward a few steps. “I believe you promised to return me unmolested.” The barest flicker of fire crossed his face.
“You ready to go, Tiny?” Joey did his best to stand tall, although Enzo had a couple inches on him. In a fight, though, I might bet on Joey. He just looked hungrier.
“Yes.” I locked eyes with Enzo. “We’re through. For tonight anyway.”
“Enjoy the rest of your evening.” Enzo nodded at us before turning on his heel and striding away.
“What the hell was that about?” Joey demanded.
“Just business.”
Enzo went behind the bar, poured himself two fingers of whisky and downed it. Then he poured another.
Ha, so I did get to you.
He looked over at me then, and when our eyes met, I vividly recalled his fingers on my bare legs, sliding higher. My thighs clenched involuntarily, and I sucked in my breath.
“Doesn’t look that way to me.” Joey grabbed my elbow. “Let’s get out of here. Now.” He was rough, tugging me toward the exit as if I was going to put up a fight.
I jerked my arm from his. “Quit it! I said I was ready to go, you don’t have to grab me.”
Joey’s chin slid forward but he said nothing—not a word until we were halfway home. “So are you going to tell me what he said or not?”
“What who said?”
“Angel!” Joey thumped the steering wheel with the heel of his hand.
“Oh, right.” With difficulty I shoved the memory of Enzo’s torso between my legs from my mind. “Uh, he said I have three days to bring him five thousand dollars.”
“What? That’s crazy.”
“I know it’s crazy,” I snapped. “That’s why I was trying to play nice with Enzo.”
“Ha.” He turned the car so abruptly I had to grab the dash to stay upright.
“It is! He let me speak with Daddy on the telephone. Then I asked him if he would intervene for me with his father, ask for more time.”
“Why would he do that?”
I bristled. “Maybe he likes me.”
Joey snorted. “Sure he does. So will he do it? Intervene, I mean?”
I turned my face to the window.
“That’s what I thought.”
Somehow I was as angry with Joey for saying that as I was with Enzo for denying my request. I tried to think up a sharp remark but failed.
Joey turned onto my street. “Did you talk to Blaise?”
“Yes. Twelve cases, after dark tomorrow night.”
“And you’ve got the money?”
“Yes. It’s everything I’ve made this summer so far.” The words tasted bi
tter in my mouth.
“I’ll meet you at the docks at nine thirty.” He pulled into my driveway, and I faced him.
“I don’t need you, you know. I can do this myself.”
“I said, I’ll meet you at nine.” He stared straight ahead.
“Fine.”
“Fine!”
“Good night, then!” I opened the door and slid out. I was about to slam it shut when he looked over at me.
“Tiny.”
“What.”
“You can’t trust him.”
I lifted an eyebrow. “This from the boy who stole my underwear for profit.”
“That was a long time ago.”
“Yeah, well, I have a good memory.”
Joey focused his attention out the front window again.
I slammed the car door and went inside.
After checking on the girls, I undressed and washed off my makeup. When I was in my nightgown and under the covers, I lay awake, staring at the ceiling. Angel’s deadline loomed above me like the blade of a guillotine. And Enzo’s refusal to intervene on my behalf cut deep, especially after what had happened between us.
Don’t trust him, Joey said. And I didn’t, not one bit. But I couldn’t stop thinking about him.
I didn’t even try.
Chapter Six
After attending mass with my sisters, I walked to the store to pick up the notebook I kept of our customer phone numbers and addresses. This afternoon I’d make some calls, see how much whisky I could sell over the phone before I even picked it up. I said hello to Martin and scooped up the notebook from a drawer behind the counter while he rang up a shopper.
Since I was there, I decided to face Bridget. My feet felt heavy as I plodded up the stairs. I wasn’t looking forward to lying to her, but there was nothing she could do to help, and she’d only worry herself sick about Daddy. On her apartment door was a note for me.
Took the kids to the park for the afternoon. Come for dinner if you like. B.
My shoulders released some tension as I exhaled. Saved—at least for now.
When I got home, I placed a call to Al Murphy, an old friend of Daddy’s who ran several small speakeasies nearby and always bought his whisky from us. His wife answered, but she said they were getting a little low on Canadian Club and placed an order for eight cases. If she’d have been in the room, I’d have kissed her. Next, I started making phone calls to customers on the list, concentrating on the wealthier homes first. By late afternoon, I figured I had about ten cases sold all together. See? You can do this. Chin up. About five o’clock, my stomach began growling, and I remembered Bridget’s dinner invitation.
It gave me an idea.
“Girls!” I shouted out the kitchen window into the yard. “We’re going to Bridget’s for dinner! Come in and wash up!”
We cleaned up and walked over to Bridget’s, where she served us meatloaf, green beans, and mashed potatoes. A basket of fresh-made bread was on the table, and a plate of chocolate chip cookies sat on the counter. Watching Mary Grace gobble it all up, a wave of guilt washed over me. I never served meals like this—how the hell did you turn meat into a loaf anyway?
After dinner, Molly and Mary Grace took the boys outside while Bridget and I cleaned the kitchen. “Bridge,” I began, rinsing off a plate, “could the girls sleep here tonight?” They were always glad to stay with her because she let them wander down the street to the ice cream parlor, where local kids lingered on summer nights.
“Sure. Why?”
“You remember how I said I hadn’t kissed a boy in a long time?”
Bridget set down the plate she was drying and looked at me. “Ye-e-e-s.”
My face got hot under her stare. “Well, I have a date tonight. And I’d like the house to myself.”
She squealed and snapped my behind with her dishtowel. “Who is it? Anyone I know?”
“No. Just someone I met recently.” I kept my eyes on the bowl I was scrubbing. “So it’s OK?”
“Absolutely. I love having them here to help with the boys.”
“Thanks.” Relieved, I finished washing the dishes and kept the chat on safer topics. Bridget didn’t even question the story about Daddy going to Cleveland. She was much more interested in what I was going to wear on my date, where he was taking me, and what we’d do afterward. I told more lies than I could count.
After saying goodbye to the girls, I walked back home in the fading light. I had about an hour to change out of my church clothes, pull the four hundred twenty bucks from my stash, and get to the boathouse. At least the weather is good, I thought as I climbed the steps to the front door.
But my hands were shaking, and I dropped the key twice before getting it in the lock.
#
Joey was already on the boat when I arrived. He reached for me with one hand. “Need help?”
Shaking my head, I jumped on board, but I stumbled a little, bumping into him. “Sorry.”
He caught my upper arms to steady me, and his chest looked so broad and comforting, I almost laid my forehead on it. “Nervous?”
“A little,” I admitted.
“If you don’t want to go, I can manage this alone.”
“No. It’s my operation. My responsibility.” Too much depended on this to leave Joey in charge.
I sat down on the bench at the center of the boat while Joey untied the rope tethering us to the dock. Like me, he was dressed in shabby dark clothing, and the floppy cap was back on his head. We didn’t talk the entire way across the lake, but he did hand me his jacket when he noticed I was shivering. I shook my head, but he held the jacket out until I took it and draped it across my shoulders. It was warm with his body heat.
At the Canadian docks we met Blaise, a jowly, pot-bellied French-Canadian who took the cash I offered and never looked up from it. He shuffled through the bills and tucked the wad out of sight, and as the money disappeared into his pocket, I fought the urge to throw myself at him and demand it back. How long had it taken me to save four hundred twenty dollars? How many cases had I smuggled, hauled, and delivered, knowing at any moment I could be questioned or arrested? And what were the chances I could earn it back by the end of the summer? Would I have to put off school for another semester? Or year? My insides knotted with anger as Joey and I loaded the whisky into the boat.
“Don’t turn sharply or go too fast,” I ordered as he started the motor.
He gave me a look that said shut your trap.
“Listen, the last thing I need is booze I’ve just paid for to go right to the bottom of the lake.”
“Sit down, Tiny. I know how to drive the damn boat.”
I opened my mouth to argue, but then I remembered my mother’s advice about honey. Since I wanted to ask him about getting me a gun, I bit my tongue and sat. As we moved slowly away from the docks, I tried to think of the best way to approach him about it. I hated to keep asking him for help, but I had no one else to ask.
“Joey…I want a gun. Can you help me get one?”
He looked at me without speaking, and I couldn’t read his expression in the dark.
“Please?”
“Why do you want a gun? Do you even know how to use one?”
“You could show me. I’d feel safer with one.”
“There’s nothing safe about a girl carrying a gun. Plus, you’d never shoot it. I know you.”
“What? You do not! I would too!” The wind picked up, whipping my hair around my face, and I tried to hold it away from my eyes so I could glare at him.
“I’ll think about it. Now hold on, looks like the lake got choppy.”
He was right—the rough, black water tossed the boat relentlessly, and I held my breath practically the whole the way across the lake. Once, I looked back at Joey and found him staring at me, which sent an unfamiliar shiver up my spine. After that I forced myself to keep my eyes straight ahead. Finally we arrived at the boathouse, and as he worked to secure us to the dock, I watched his hands in the moonlight
. He had nice hands, actually. Strong but not meaty, with solid wrists and dexterous fingers. Something fluttered in my belly again. Quit it. It’s goddamn Joey. I jumped up onto the dock before he could offer to help me.
“I’ll hand up the sacks to you, and then we’ll take them into the boathouse,” he said.
I nodded. When he held out the first case, our fingers touched, and I took it quickly to avoid prolonging contact. Then I lashed out, because that was more comfortable than acknowledging an attraction to him. “Did you fix the lock on the garage yet? It’s been three days.”
“Don’t nag. I bought a new door this afternoon, and I’ll put it in tomorrow.” He handed me another burlap sack, and I grabbed it from the bottom.
“Well, you’re the one who busted it up.”
He paused before holding out the next case.
I pressed my lips together. “Sorry. I’m just—wound up. Thanks for fixing the door. I don’t want those hearses stolen.”
Joey was quiet a minute. “You have the keys for those hearses?”
“Yeah. Why?” I took the last case from him and he hopped onto the dock next to me.
“We might need them.” He grabbed two sacks and headed for the boathouse.
“Oh, no,” I said, close on his heels. “I’m not driving one of those death wagons around.”
“You’re awfully particular for someone so desperate.”
“Well, it’s my desperation, not yours. I’ll do things the way I always have.” We reached the door and I set down the whisky to dig the key from my skirt pocket.
“You can’t do things the way you always have,” Joey said. “No one can.”
I tugged the padlock open. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“This is just the beginning, what happened to your pop. Now that he’s caught the attention of bigger guys, his days as a lone whisky hauler are over.” He shouldered by me.
“Says who?” I picked up my whisky and followed him in. Moonlight filtered in through the high window and suffused the boathouse with silver-gray light.
“Says the big guys.” Joey set his sacks down, lifted his cap and ran a hand through his hair. “Things are changing around here, Tiny, and small-timers like him aren’t gonna be allowed to run booze free and clear like they have been.”
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