Princes of the Lower East Side: A 1920s Mafia Thriller (A Scalisi Family Novel)

by Meredith Allison

  Her brain went dizzy immediately. She slipped her arms around his neck to pull her body as close to his as possible as his hands went their separate ways, one sliding into her hair, the other wrapping tightly around her waist.

  When he pulled away from her mouth to graze her neck with his lips, she swallowed against the curious urge to burst into tears. “Please don’t be another thing that changes,” she said, a tremor in her voice. “I couldn’t bear it.”

  “Never,” he promised. “I’ll always be here for you. With you.”

  She pulled him to her for another kiss, her mouth blooming beneath his to allow their tongues to meet. She unbuttoned his shirt and pushed it off his shoulders while he pulled off his collar. His hands settled at her waist, slowly tugging the sash of her robe.

  “No pins under here?” he teased against her lips, turning her insides to liquid. “You gonna stab me, too?”

  She tried to catch her breath. “I supposed you’ll have to see for yourself.”

  He scooped her into his arms and carried her into the bedroom, where he unwrapped her like a gift, taking his time, layer by layer. The belt loosened, then he opened first one side of her robe, then the other, then slid it slowly over her shoulders to pool at her feet. Then he ran his hands down her silk-covered sides, the cool material sliding against her hot skin. His fingers toyed with the straps of the nightgown as he caressed her skin before nudging one strap over the slope of her shoulder, and then, as though she were fragile, the other.

  The nightgown dropped straight down to join the robe. Bare before him, Mia held his gaze and waited.

  His eyes went over her languidly, as though she were a work of art he wanted to drink in. “You’re exquisite.”

  She bit her lip as she reached for him. She helped him pull off his undershirt, then lower his trousers. His body was lithe and firm, his muscles sculpted as though hewn from stone. “So are you.”

  He gathered her in his arms and laid her down on her bed. Beneath her bare skin, the down in her pillows and blankets were soft and cushy, like clouds keeping them afloat near the heavens. It was as though she were feeling every sensation for the first time.

  Charlie worshipped her with his mouth and hands, leaving no inch of her skin untouched as she arched up to meet him, soft cries falling from her mouth like wishes. When his lips returned to hers, warm and moist and hungry, she made one last wish.

  “Charlie…please…”

  The ache of his entry was all sweetness. He interlocked the fingers of one hand with hers, sliding it up over her head as he took her on a leisurely journey to ecstasy. His lips broke from hers only to whisper her name in a reverent voice other men might have used to say Amen. Amen.

  When she fell, shattering, over the cliff, it was his name she uttered like the ending of a prayer, the echo of it pulling him down with her.

  Mia slipped under warm waves of a relaxing stream, letting the current carry her along, buoyed by bliss.

  Charlie kissed her throat. “Are you all right?” he said into her skin.

  “More than all right.”

  He shifted to one side and maneuvered her so that her back pressed to his front. His warm skin heated her all the way through. He dropped another kiss on her shoulder and draped his arm protectively over her. “Sleep.”

  She didn’t need much encouragement, considering she hadn’t gotten much for some time, and it had been…well, never, since she’d felt so safe and warm and comfortable. Because she’d never had Charlie there to make sure she could relax so deeply, knowing he would destroy anything that threatened to disrupt her peace.

  So, for the first time possibly since her parents were alive, Mia rested.

  The sound of a fist banging on the door made them both shoot up in bed.

  “What time is it?” Mia asked groggily. What day is it?

  But Charlie, alert, was already halfway into his trousers. “Stay here.” His voice was gruff and left no room for discussion. He tossed on his dress shirt and left it unbuttoned, but grabbed his pistol and slipped out of the bedroom, leaving the door ajar.

  A deep breath helped awaken her mind more, as did three more thumps on the door. She slid out of bed and slipped on the nightgown, then tied the robe tightly around her. She peeked out to the main area, where she heard several low male voices, and a slightly higher, youthful voice. It was a voice that belonged to a boy, not a man.

  It was a familiar voice.

  She threw open the door and walked out of the bedroom. Joey had a boy by the scruff of his neck. Paolo held him by the arm, and Charlie was in his face, demanding to know who he was.

  “Nicky?”

  All four faces turned her way. The men looked confused, as if she’d lost her mind. The boy looked hopeful. “Mia!”

  “Let him go,” she said softly to the other men.

  “Yeah, get off me,” Nicky said crossly, shaking Joey off and rubbing the back of his neck.

  “What are you doing here, kid?” Mia asked in a low, threatening voice as she walked toward him. She wasn’t exactly the picture of malice in her bathrobe, but his eyes widened anyway. Probably because he likely hadn’t seen too many women in this state of undress before.

  “Found him wandering in the hallway, asking for you,” Joey said.

  “How’d you know where to find me?” Mia demanded.

  “You said to ask for you at the grocery,” he said meekly.

  She glanced at the clock on the wall. “It’s a quarter after three in the morning.”

  “I know, and I’m sorry. But your uncle came to the door and he said I could find you at this hotel. He said I should be careful of your dog.” He glanced around. “But I don’t see no dog.”

  Mia glanced at Paolo. He smirked. “It’s a long way from the store. How’d you get here?”

  “I told your uncle I had something real important to tell you. So he gave me cab fare.”

  “Well?” Charlie said testily. “It’s three in the goddamn morning, kid.”

  “Come and sit down,” Mia said with a sigh.

  The door that joined the two suites opened, and Gloria poked her head out. “What’s going on?” Her eyes were still bloodshot, but she wasn’t slurring. Her gaze landed on Charlie. “What are you doing here?” Then Nicky. “Who’s that?”

  “Pal of mine,” Mia said. She looked at Nicky. “You hungry?”

  His brow scrunched up. “It’s three in the morning.”

  “I don’t think that means a whole lot to you, does it?”

  “Well…yeah, I could eat,” he admitted.

  Mia turned to Gloria. “Would you call down to the front and have them send up some steak and eggs?”

  Gloria glanced at Nicky, then shrugged, a little bewildered. “Sure.” She disappeared back inside her room and shut the door.

  Mia pointed at the sofa as she took a seat in the chair. “Start talking.”

  Nicky plopped down on the sofa. “The Murray Hill, huh? Fancy digs. I knew you were an important lady.”

  “I’m also a tired lady who had a very late night and hardly any sleep,” Mia said.

  “Right,” Nicky said. “Well, uh, you said to come and see you if I had information for you.”

  “This better be life or death, kid.”

  “I was hanging around a card hall, and heard some fellas talking. Some bootleggers. They said a few trucks Frankie Yale outta Brooklyn sent up north to Canada got hijacked before they even reached the border.”

  Mia froze. “What?”

  “Yeah, they said the drivers all got shot and the product was all stolen, along with a whole bunch of money. Nobody knows what happened to it now, but they heard that some of the product on those trucks was rye whiskey from Templeton. The good stuff.” He cleared his throat. “Your stuff. Right?”

  “What makes you say that?”

  “You told me to…ask around the neighborhood about you,” he said hesitantly.

  There was a knock on the door—a hotel butler with the stea
k and eggs Gloria ordered. Joey tipped the man and Mia pushed the cart in front of Nicky and removed the plate covering.

  “Dig in,” she said. “You did a good job.”

  As the boy complied, Mia joined Charlie and Joey a few feet away, close to the door.

  “Well, what the hell do we do now?” she demanded. “There’s customers over the border expecting that whiskey. Customers who paid very good money for that.”

  Charlie looked at Joey. “Get some men and see what you can find out about who’s behind the hijacking. Whoever it was has balls—that was Capone’s money they stole, meant for his Canadian Club.”

  Joey bobbed his head. “We’ll look into it right away.”

  “What about our buyers?” Mia said. “Morrie said we got paid in advance.”

  “We did.” Charlie sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “He’s got the business contact up there. We’ll tell him in the morning, and maybe he can use that slick tongue of his to buy us some time. Then we can get on the horn with Will and see how much product he has on hand right now, get their replacement order ready.”

  “I don’t want it coming through New York.” Mia folded her arms. “Whoever this was is familiar with our routes. I want Will to send it straight from Iowa.”

  Joey shook his head. “That’s risky, too. New York ain’t the only place with hijackers.”

  “It’s a risk I’d rather take than do this again,” she argued. “Especially if we’re being targeted.”

  “We’ll call him in the morning. First thing,” Charlie promised.

  “I wonder if Frankie’s in the wind yet,” Mia said. “He didn’t seem too bothered by anything tonight.”

  “He might know by now, but not earlier. He’d have blown his fucking top, trust me.”

  Mia returned to her seat. Nicky was just about done with his meal, using his fork and a crust of bread to coax an enormous bite of eggs piled on a piece of steak into his mouth. It was as though he hadn’t eaten in days.

  “You don’t know the fellas who were talking about this?”

  He shook his head, chewing rapidly. After he swallowed, he said, “I never saw ’em before.”

  “Did it sound like they were in on it?”

  Another shake of his head. “Nah. They seemed real surprised anyone would cross Frankie Yale like that.”

  “Whose card hall were you at?”

  “Mr. Luciano’s.”

  Charles Luciano wasn’t above thievery, she was sure, but he seemed to be doing well enough in his own affairs that he didn’t need to resort to stealing anyone else’s shipments. Besides, as far as she knew, he and Yale were friendly. At least, they didn’t seem to want to kill each other. Same thing.

  When Nicky was finished with his meal, she gave him a twenty-dollar bill. His eyes grew large as he reached for it.

  She held tight to the money and looked Nicky in the eye. “I keep my word, don’t I?”

  He nodded vigorously.

  “When you get back home, you never came here. You never talked to me. You don’t know where I live. We never had this conversation. Understand?”

  Another nod.

  She released the bill. “Joey’ll give you a ride home.”

  “Come on, kid,” Joey said, opening the door.

  “Thanks,” Nicky said to Mia.

  She flicked her head at the door. “Go home to your mother.”

  After he and Joey left, and Paolo retired to his room, Mia and Charlie crawled back into bed. Gloria’s door remained closed.

  “Is this as bad as it seems?” Mia murmured into his chest.

  Charlie sighed. “Could be pretty bad. But I’m not worried about the Canadians too much. I think Morrie can work something out. But it’s the not knowing. First the shooting the other night, now this.”

  “What’ll happen next?” Mia mused.

  Charlie didn’t answer, but his arms tightened around her, and that confirmed her own thoughts. The possibilities of what might happen next were narrowing, and none of them were pretty.

  Most of them ended with her dead.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Early the next morning, Mia went into the other suite and knocked gently on Gloria’s bedroom door before opening it a few inches. Gloria roused herself, glancing at the glasses of water and orange juice Mia carried on a tray.

  “Good morning,” she offered in a meek voice.

  Mia set the tray on Gloria’s nightstand and handed her two aspirin. “How are you feeling?”

  “Humiliated.” Gloria popped the aspirin in her mouth and tilted back the glass of water. She drained it in a moment and wiped her mouth on the back of her hand. She reached for Mia’s hand. “I’m sorry.”

  Mia sighed, looking down at their hands. “Why?”

  “I was…enraged when I found out she was there. I haven’t gotten over any of that. I never had time, you know.” Gloria drew her hand back. “Nick and I were trying to work through things, and he died before we could really get started. I was thrown into mourning him. And seeing her brought everything back. And to learn that you knew she was there… Why wouldn’t you tell me that?”

  “I didn’t know she was going to be there,” Mia said. “She showed up at my dressing room. I didn’t even think to mention it to you. I…had a lot on my mind.”

  “What you said in your dressing room,” Gloria murmured. “It was a betrayal, Mia.”

  Mia drew her head back. “What?”

  “That she didn’t steal Nick from me.”

  “Gloria, you and I both loved Nick, in very different ways. But let’s cut the bullshit—he was a cad,” Mia said sharply. “Annette wasn’t the first, and despite his best efforts, she probably wouldn’t have been the last. She didn’t have to do much more than crook her finger. Nick wasn’t cut out to be faithful.”

  Gloria reeled back against her pillows, her face draining of its color. “You…you begged me to give him another chance. You begged me not to leave him!”

  “And I meant what I said then. I didn’t want you to leave him. For all he was a cad, he loved you. To death. But you know as well as I do it was a matter of time before he reverted to how he’s always been. So a man like that can’t be stolen when he’s begging to be taken by any broad with legs and a pretty smile. And at the end of it all, you made a scene at my place of employment, and you nearly ruined everything.”

  The conversation had veered violently off the rails. How had it gone this way? Why couldn’t she just have accepted Gloria’s apology and made up with her?

  Why are you shoving her away? Why are you hurting her like this?

  Gloria stared down at her hands, silent tears rolling down her cheeks.

  Mia’s heart seared. What had she done? “Glo… I’m sorry. I—I didn’t mean that. Any of it. I’m just—”

  “You’re just being honest,” Gloria said in a cold voice. “Thank you for the medicine, Mia. I need to get up and get ready for Mass. My family’s waiting on me and your cousin.”

  My. Me. Your. No longer our, we.

  “I’m going, too,” Mia said. “Obviously.”

  “Is it obvious?” Gloria slid out of bed and disappeared into her bathroom, shutting the door.

  Mia stared after her. Goddamn her mouth. Gloria was the closest thing she had to an actual sister. And she’d kicked her—hard—when she was already down. Like Mia, Gloria was stubborn with her feelings and her forgiveness. The fissure that had been growing between them had just cracked wide open, and Mia didn’t know how to fill the chasm.

  She heard the sound of running water, and beneath it, the sound of weeping.

  Mia slid off the bed and lingered by the bathroom door, hand poised above the knob. Then, after a moment, she turned and went back to her suite.

  The early morning light cast its golden beam on Will Wyatt, who sat on the sofa, drinking a cup of black coffee and wearily rubbing his forehead. Charlie stood by the large window, curtains opened, talking on the candlestick telephone.

 
Mia sat beside Will and sighed.

  “Seems like it went real well,” he said, nodding toward the adjoining door.

  A humorless smirk twisted at her lips, and she wondered if it looked as ugly as it felt. “It always does, these days.”

  “That was quite the scene last night.”

  “Sure was,” Mia said, a note of bitterness in her voice. “Half of New York saw it, and the other half probably heard it.”

  “It’s all a part of the grievin’ process.” He set his cup down. He was a handsome man, if the features of his face appeared to be carved from stone. He so rarely emoted or spoke, it was easy to privately think he was all cogs and motors beneath his tanned, freckled skin. A war vet, he and Nick had fought together in France. Nick had saved him from meeting his end at the wrong side of a Jerry’s rifle, and their friendship and later, business partnership, had been born and cemented.

  “What’s a part of the process?” Mia asked. “Making drunken scenes, humiliating yourself and the people trying to take care of you, and pushing away the ones you love? That’s all a part of the process?”

  Will refreshed his coffee, then poured her a cup. “Sure, to some. As much as killing men in the name of revenge is to others.”

  Her mouth opened, but she couldn’t think of anything to say.

  “I ain’t judgin’, mind you.” He held out the cup to her. “Here, woman, take it and stop looking at me like I’m next. I’m just saying, there ain’t no rules when it comes to mourning someone’s loss. No time limit. No right or wrong way. Lots of people do things they never woulda otherwise done in the name of pain. Mrs. Scalisi ain’t no different, and neither are you.”

  Mia sipped her coffee and made a face. It was black.

  Will ticked an amused eyebrow at her. “Cream and sugar, miss?”

  “No, thank you,” she murmured.

  “Anyway, I don’t mean to jabber at you about your own family affairs,” Will went on, “but my advice you didn’t ask for is to cut her some slack and give her some grace. She’s finding her way.”

  “Grace?” Mia repeated.

  “I know. Rich, coming from me.”