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

by Meredith Allison

  She drew in a deep breath to fortify herself, then stepped around the end of the corridor toward the light.

  A large room with windows lining the tops of each wall spread before her. It was brightly lit from huge, overhead lights. It looked like it had once been a large garage. A stale odor of oil clung to the air, just noticeable beneath the hazy cloud of cigar smoke.

  Her gaze fastened on the middle of the room, where two terrified young women and a child sat tied to chairs, handkerchiefs between their teeth and tied around their head.

  Mia swallowed a sob as she looked at her niece. Emilia’s face was tear-streaked and her hair was mussed, but she couldn’t tell if the little girl was hurt.

  Around them, men leaned on tables or milled around, swigging from numerous bottles of alcohol. Their voices were loud but indiscernible.

  “Well, hell!”

  A loud voice rose above the din, and from a crowd of men to her right, Jake Morelli emerged. His suit coat was off, collar undone, and he gripped a bottle of whiskey in one hand. He held his hands out toward her with a grin as if they were dear friends.

  “Life of the party just showed up, huh?” he called to his men.

  They all closed in on her, sliding off tables and rising from chairs to swagger toward her. She tensed her body, but kept her chin up and looked Jake straight in the eye.

  “I’m here like you asked,” she said in a low, steady voice. “Give me my family and we’ll leave.”

  “I didn’t ask. I told you,” he said, then took a drink from the bottle. He pointed a finger at her. “And we’re gonna discuss some things first before you can collect your precious family. Fellas.” He snapped his fingers.

  Two men—one of whom was Detective Wallace—flanked her immediately, and before she could react, they groped her freely and slid their hands up and down her body and legs.

  She tried to jerk out of their grasp. “Get the hell off me!”

  “She’s clean,” Detective Wallace said to Jake.

  He nodded, then grinned at her. “Hey, don’t get mad. You’re known to keep pins in your dress. Just had to make sure you played by the rules, is all.”

  “What do you want?” she snapped.

  “Ah, ah. Temper.” He strolled toward her, leering. “You might’ve been wondering where I’ve been the past month. Haven’t you?”

  “I tend not to notice when vermin crawl back to the holes they came from,” she snarled.

  Jake paused in front of her, studying her with his head tilted to one side. Then, he struck her across the face with a ferocious backhand, the line of his knuckles crashing against her cheekbone.

  Emilia screamed.

  Mia stumbled back as pain and fire exploded in her face.

  Don’t fall. Don’t fall.

  The voice in her mind was a low hum beneath the roar of pain, but she held onto it, willing herself to stay on her feet even as her ankles wobbled. Her years as a dancer aided her, her legs immediately splaying for balance as her core tightened and leaned opposite from the way momentum had sent her.

  On her feet but still hunched over, Mia panted through the agony. He’d hit her with the force of three men, and as she cracked open an already-swelling eye, she eyed the rings on each of his fingers. Effective as brass knuckles.

  So that’s really why they call him Gems.

  As his men hooted and brayed like drunken mules, Jake walked toward her, sliding his fingers under her chin and tipping it up. He winced.

  “That’s gonna leave a mark,” he said. “You might need to take some time off the club. But, can I be honest with you?” He leaned close, his whiskey breath brushing her face. “I’ve wanted to do that for some time. I bet no one’s ever done that to you, huh? Everyone was always too scared of your brother, then scared of Paolo, then scared of Lazzari. Not me. And let me tell you, toots. You deserve that and a few more. I should hold you down and fuck you ’til you’re bloody. Especially for killing my men.”

  He straightened and chuckled. “Hey, what am I doing? You’re a tough little broad. You can take a punch. That ain’t gonna bother you nearly as much as…” He turned to the detective, who stood close to Raquel. “Abner.”

  “No,” Mia grunted, trying to make her mouth shape the word. “No. No!”

  The detective closed his fist and slammed it against the side of Raquel’s head.

  She couldn’t even make a noise of pain. Her cousin simply dropped her head, lolling to the side in the chair.

  Detective Wallace laughed, accepting slaps on the back from some of the other men. “I’d call that a knockout, gentlemen.”

  Mia lunged toward him, staggering like she was drunk because her brain was still spinning from Jake’s punch.

  Jake held her back with a palm to her shoulder. “Easy, tiger. Take one more step and I’ll have him belt her again.”

  “Leave Auntie alone, you stupid dumb-dumb!” Emilia shrieked from her chair.

  Mia gasped. “Emilia—you stay quiet!”

  Chuckling with amusement, Jake strolled over to the little girl and knelt down, bracing his hands on his knees. “What’d you say to me, Skeezix?”

  Fear flashed across Emilia’s face. Then defiance filled her eyes. To Mia’s shock, horror, and awe, the little girl spat—or tried to spit; nothing came out—at Jake’s feet.

  Gloria moaned around her gag.

  Jake laughed. “How about that? This brat’s really her father’s daughter, ain’t she?” He looked at Mia. “Or her aunt’s niece. Maybe I should have Abner here belt the kid. I mention he used box on the boardwalk?”

  A blow like what Raquel had received could kill Emilia—it could have very well killed Raquel. Mia froze. “If you lay a hand on her—”

  “Listen to me.” He cupped her face. “I don’t like hurting kids. I don’t even like hurting women. But you left me no choice. And if you keep disrespecting me, I’ll have each one of them gutted and strung up by their intestines down Broadway. And I’ll make you watch.”

  Despite every effort to hold it in, Mia could not contain a whimper.

  He patted her cheeks. “Don’t make me be the bad guy.”

  “What,” she whispered, “do you want?”

  He pointed at her and winked. “I’m glad you asked. The short answer? Everything.”

  Mia’s nostrils flared. “You’ll have to be more specific.”

  “Well, I already mentioned how Hymie wants control of your liquor operation. So that’s a start.”

  “I got partners,” she said through gritted teeth. “It’s not that simple.”

  Jake shrugged. “Not my problem. Or Hymie’s. That’s up to you to straighten out, but eventually, the North Side will have control in the east.” He flashed a grin. “With me running things out here, of course. I got big plans for myself.”

  “What else?”

  “My old territories, where you have huge percentages. You’ll forgo those. I retain all control.”

  “Fine,” she ground out.

  “And our favorite subject that brought us together in the first place,” he said. “Heroin. I’ll be selling it wherever the fuck I want. To women, to children, to whoever wants it. I’ll make couriers of whoever I want. You have no say. And in fact…” He stroked his chin as if an idea had just occurred to him. “I hear you’re looking for a new place to set up shop. Near Times Square. I’d sure appreciate it if you introduced a little white powder to those uppity broads you’ll be catering to. Not the kind they dab on their faces, either.”

  She gaped at him. “You want me to sell drugs?”

  “Hey, you can say no to anything you want,” he said, spreading his hands. “But you know if you do, none of you bitches’ll walk out of here alive tonight.”

  Her fists balled at her sides.

  “Was that a yes? I couldn’t hear you.”

  Her nails dug so hard into her palms, the skin stung. “Yes.”

  He nodded. “Good.”

  “Is that all?”

 
“Not quite,” Jake said. “One more thing. The Lower East Side. Little Italy. You’ll let everyone there know they should start paying their protection fees to me. On behalf of Mr. Maranzano. They got a new king now that their queen has abdicated her throne.”

  “Maranzano?” Mia spat. “Masseria holds that protection business. Take it up with him.”

  Jake smirked. “Those people are loyal to you. Besides…Masseria’s not going to be a concern much longer, anyway.”

  She frowned as he started pacing in leisurely strides. Behind him, Raquel was barely conscious. Gloria stared at her with huge eyes, frozen in her chair, and Emilia wept silently.

  “I don’t understand,” Mia said.

  “I think we should get rid of that old Moustache Pete,” Jake said with a smile. “And I think you can be a great help in orchestrating that.”

  “You…want me to help you hit Masseria?” she said in disbelief. “Did Maranzano ask for that?”

  “No. But I know he’s been a pain in Maranzano’s ass for some time now,” Jake said. “And if I took care of that little problem for him, well…think about how good that makes me look. That’s something a true caporegime would do for his boss, ain’t it?”

  “You want to kill Masseria for a promotion?” Mia said.

  “Always looking out for number one,” he said with a lopsided smile. “So, how about it?”

  “You make it sound like I got a choice.”

  “You’re right.” He sauntered back toward where Emilia sat and pulled his pistol out of his shoulder holster. He pressed the barrel to her temple, and the little girl nearly hyperventilated from the fear. “You don’t.”

  Two seats down, Gloria screamed around her gag. The sound of it, the pure terror and rage and agony it held, made Mia want to clap her hands over her ears.

  “Shut her up,” Jake said calmly to Detective Wallace.

  The large man stalked over to Gloria. The sound of a crack pierced the air as his huge palm met the entire left side of her face. When he stepped out of the way, Mia saw blood trickling from her mouth and the enormous red handprint on her skin.

  “Stop!” Mia roared. “Stop.”

  “Do I have your cooperation?” Jake said, pushing the barrel of the gun so hard against Emilia’s temple, her head tilted to the side.

  Tears streamed from her niece’s eyes as she stared at Mia. The confusion and panic in her wild stare shattered Mia’s heart. She was just a child. She had done nothing to deserve this—except have an aunt whose choices had brought her to this moment.

  “Yes,” Mia muttered.

  “How’s that?” Jake cupped a hand around his ear. “Couldn’t quite hear you.”

  “Yes!” she screamed.

  “Good.” He withdrew the pistol, then leaned down and kissed the top of Emilia’s head. “Stop crying, sweetie.”

  Emilia winced away from him, trying to quiet her sobs.

  Mia wanted to slice his lips off his face and shove them down his throat for touching her.

  Jake tilted his head as he regarded her. “And that’s that,” he said. “You just stick to warbling out showtunes and prancing around in evening dresses, and leave the business to the men. That’s all you’re good for, anyway. You were in over your head from the first second your brother died.”

  “Will you let them go?” she asked in a shaking voice.

  He walked over to her, tucking his pistol in the holster. “Sure. As soon as we shake on it.”

  He held out his hand. Mia stared at it, at everything that hand represented. At everything she would be giving up by shaking it. She’d be serving him the Lower East Side on a silver platter, and things would fall to ruin again. Families would be destroyed, and Jake would have them all under his thumb.

  Then she glanced at her family, bound and gagged behind him.

  She took his hand.

  He yanked her toward him and pressed his mouth to hers. He gripped the back of her head and held her there when she struggled against him. After a long moment, he released her with a smack of his lips and grinned.

  “And now we got ourselves a deal.”

  Her lips burned and she longed to scrub at them. “Untie them and let us go.”

  Jake grabbed the lower half of her face in one hard grip. “That’s the last order you’ll ever give me.” He shoved her away so hard, she tumbled to the floor, but immediately jumped to her feet, barely registering the pain.

  He turned and lifted a hand at his men. Three stepped forward and began untying Gloria, Raquel, and Emilia. Gloria helped Raquel stand with one arm around her waist, and held Emilia close with the other.

  “Let us escort you out,” Jake said.

  Mia ushered her family in front of her. “We know the way.”

  “Oh, but I insist.” He drew his pistol again and nudged it into her back, then leaned to speak into her ear. “If you think I’m stupid enough to believe you came here alone, you got another thing coming, toots. Put your hands up. Fellas, help the ladies along, yeah?”

  At gunpoint, Mia and her family were led outside. Raquel could barely walk, but the man behind her pushed her every few steps. Gloria kept her hands up, but her eyes on her daughter. Detective Wallace propelled Emilia forward with his gun pressed to her shoulder.

  Outside, they walked down the alley toward the street where Charlie had let her out. As soon as they stepped out of the alley, three sets of headlights turned on.

  Don’t do anything stupid, she begged.

  Charlie, Moritz, Paolo, Bobby, Joey, and all their men stepped out of the three cars they occupied, guns out. They outnumbered Jake and the two men with him for the moment, but the rest of Jake’s men were starting to seep into the alley.

  “What the fuck are you doing, Morelli?” Charlie asked, his voice deadly quiet.

  “Came out so you could all say hello to your new boss,” Jake replied cheerfully. “Miss Scalisi here has agreed to turn over your liquor business to me and Hymie Weiss. So there’s gonna be some employee shake-ups, fellas. Maybe I’ll still let you work for me.”

  “This is not necessary, Mr. Morelli,” Moritz said. “I’m sure we can come to a better deal.”

  “This is the only deal,” Jake said, holding his gun to Mia’s neck. “Unless you want a child’s blood on your hands?”

  “Just let them go,” Charlie said.

  Jake nuzzled the side of Mia’s face he’d struck. “We’ll stay here to make sure you get safely on your way.” He pushed her forward.

  She grabbed Emilia away from the detective. He gave her an evil smile and winked.

  “Walk,” she ordered Gloria and Raquel quietly. “Now.”

  When she was halfway to the car, Mia set Emilia down. “Do you see Paolo?”

  The little girl nodded, shaking.

  “Run to him.”

  Emilia tore off. Paolo holstered his pistol in time to catch her and carry her off toward the car parked the farthest away.

  Mia breathed a silent sigh of relief that Emilia was as far away from the danger as possible for the moment.

  “Mia. One more thing.”

  She stopped and turned toward Jake.

  He strolled toward her at a leisurely pace, stopping when he was an arm’s length away. “You told me at that wedding I’m not untouchable. Remember that? Remember how you embarrassed me in front of all of Little Italy when you had your Sicilian pet hold a knife to my throat?”

  Mia waited, saying nothing.

  “Thanks for that lesson. You were right. I wasn’t untouchable.” In less time than it took her to blink, he whipped his arm up, the pistol aimed just to the side of her. “Neither are you.”

  He pulled the trigger.

  The pained female scream that ripped through the night did not come from her.

  She whirled around in time to see Raquel fall.

  “Mia, get down!” Charlie roared.

  The night exploded in gunfire.

  She had barely enough time to hit the ground before bullets tore
through the air over her. Raquel lay a few feet away, Gloria beside her, screaming.

  Mia spared only a few seconds to determine Raquel was still alive and had been hit in the leg. “Help me move her!” she shouted to Gloria.

  Her sister-in-law froze, her mouth open in a silent scream.

  Mia grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her, hard. “Gloria,” she snapped. “Help me, or we die!”

  It seemed to do the trick. Lying as close to the ground as they could, they dragged Raquel behind Charlie’s car. Metallic tinks sounded like hail as bullets hit the cars.

  A hand closed around her ankle and yanked. Mia fell onto her back and stared up at the detective. His hand closed around her throat.

  “I got paid for a job I never finished,” he told her, and pressed his revolver under her chin. “All six of these rounds got your name on them, doll.”

  Before he could pull the trigger, another gunshot erupted from close by and he barked with pain, grabbing his shoulder. His pistol went flying.

  Mia gasped for air.

  “Beat it!” Charlie bellowed over his shoulder.

  Her rolling eyes took in Jake as he and his men disappeared down the alley. The sound of car engines starting and tires screeching let her know they had the same idea as Charlie. Distant police sirens filled her ears as she scrambled to her feet, grabbing the detective’s pistol from where it had landed a foot from her.

  She caught sight of Bobby helping Gloria get Raquel into his car. “Get her to the hospital, now!”

  He nodded, then immediately jumped behind the wheel.

  Charlie rushed over to her. “Are you hurt?” he demanded. “Jesus—your face.”

  “Never mind that.” She stepped around him toward the detective lying on the ground, clutching his shoulder. Blood seeped through his fingers.

  “We need to leave,” Charlie said, grabbing her arm.

  She stared down at Detective Wallace. “The good detective is hurt.”

  “Please,” he muttered around grunts of pain. “Get me some help, and I’ll help you. I’ll talk to Weiss. Tonight. We can get rid of Gems. If you let the cops come help me, I swear I’ll help you. I’ll put all the blame on him. I never saw none of yous tonight.”