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Authors: Melanie Harlow

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BOOK: Speak Low
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“So do you! I was thinking about it earlier, during supper. You could take over here, or use the money you get from the opium to open up your own restaurant or something. You’re talented, Joey. You don’t need to spend your life breaking laws or skulls to make a buck.”

He sat up and rubbed a hand on the back of his neck. “We’re not talking about me. It’s you who got the good marks in school. I screwed around too much, didn’t care enough. If I could go back, I’d do a lot of things differently.”

“You mean school?”

“I mean a lot of things.”

What I would do differently if I could go back and change something in my life? For the most part, I’d done well in school and stayed out of trouble. Taking care of the house and watching over my sisters took up a lot of time, and I’d worked for Daddy a lot the last few years too. There may have been a boy or two I wish I hadn’t kissed, but I had no major regrets so far—unless Enzo turned out to be a big mistake.
Which is entirely possible.

Joey looked over at me. “So why don’t you get a different job? Make the tuition money on your own?”

I groaned. “I think I’ll have to.”

“How much do you need?” His eyes were serious.

“You’re not giving it to me.”

“I didn’t offer anything. I just asked how much.”

Tipping back the last swallow of my whiskey, I set the glass down next to me and leaned back on my hands again. “It’s not just tuition. I feel like there are so many things weighing me down. I want more freedom. I want to move out of my father’s house. Get my own place and start living, you know? I’m tired of feeling as if I’m waiting for my real life to start.”

Joey nodded but said nothing. He finished his second drink and propped his arms on his wide-spaced knees, looking straight ahead. When he finally spoke, the words stunned me. “Come with me.”

“What?” I couldn’t possibly have heard that right.

He looked at me over his shoulder. “Come with me. To Chicago.”

“Why would I go with you to Chicago?”

“You said yourself you wanted to get out of your pop’s house. I’m offering you that chance. You could go to school in Chicago. It would be like going away to college or something.”

“That’s nuts, Joey! I can’t afford that! Where would I live?”

“With me.”

“With you!”

“We could find an apartment.”

“Together?” I picked up my whiskey glass, found it empty, and tipped it to my lips anyway, hoping to suck up any miniscule drop left at the bottom.

“Why not?”

“Why not? I’ll tell you why not. Because
we’re
not—” Frantically I moved my hand back and forth between us. I didn’t even know how to put it.

“We don’t have to be. I just want you away from here, away from people who…put you in danger. I want you safe, that’s all.”

Suddenly something clicked. “No, you don’t.”

“What?” Now it was Joey’s turn to be surprised.

“You don’t care if I’m safe. You’d be doing the same things down there you’re doing up here. I’d still be around the same kind of people breaking all the same laws. You just don’t want me to be with
him
.”

Joey shook his head. “That’s not true! I’m offering to take you away from all the crummy things weighing you down. I’m offering you a chance to start living your life for you, like you said!”

“Bullshit!” I jumped up. “You’re just jealous!”

Joey popped to his feet too, fists clenched at his sides. “He doesn’t care about you!” he roared. “You’ll never be anything more to him than a good time!”

“Which is more than
you
can say, isn’t it? And that’s really what we’re talking about. You’re mad because he got something you want.” I poked him in the chest.

Joey breathed hard, his brown eyes flashing with angry fire. “Maybe he did.”

Those three words stunned me silent. It was the closest he’d ever come to admitting he felt anything for me, and I had no idea how to react. Weren’t you at least supposed to kiss the girl if you were asking her to run away with you?

Before I could speak, Joey went on. “This is the only time I’ll make this offer, Tiny. I want you to come with me, but I won’t ask you again. You have to tell me tonight.”

I narrowed my eyes at him and cocked my head. “An ultimatum. How romantic.”

He pressed his lips together. “Forget I asked.”

The fight left my body. “Come on, Joey, can’t we at least—”

“No. You’re right. I don’t know what I was thinking. It would never work.” He leaned over, picked up the whiskey bottle and his glass, and walked to the stairs before I could argue.

And why would you argue? You don’t want to run away with him. What the hell kind of offer was that, anyway?
It wasn’t like he’d confessed his love and begged me to return it. He was just being a sore loser. Frowning, I followed him through the apartment, down the stairs and straight into the car.

Neither of us spoke on the ride home, and the tension between us grew thicker and more awkward with every wordless second. It made me realize how comfortable our silences had been before.

Those days were over.

I was dangerously close to tears by the time he pulled into my driveway, but the sight of the Ford Model T Daddy and I shared parked next to the house was a relief—he was home from his meeting with the DiFiores.

“Thanks again for supper,” I said quietly, one hand on the door.

“Tell
nobody
about the opium. Got it?” Joey’s tone was as cold as his stare.

“I got it.”

“Forget I said a word about it. In fact, forget every single word I said tonight.” He switched his focus straight ahead, out the windshield.

I stared at his stubbornly set jaw in disbelief. Was he really going to be such a child about this? He’d had plenty of opportunities to admit he felt something for me—not that he was admitting anything now, either. Why couldn’t he just say something,
anything
, about his feelings? Give me some reason besides his jealousy to consider his offer?

But he remained silent.

Chapter Three

 

“Daddy?” I called the second I got inside the house.

“In here.”

I followed his voice into the kitchen, where I found him sitting at the table with a notebook, pencil in hand, and a glass of whiskey. “What are you doing?”

“Just running some numbers.”

“Feds are looking for you,” I said breathlessly, sliding into the chair across from him and studying his face. We didn’t look much alike. I had my mother’s Irish farm girl coloring—red hair, fair skin, blue eyes. Daddy was dark-haired and brown-eyed, and even before Raymond DiFiore beat him bloody last week, his face had worn the faint scars and crooked nose of a youth spent boxing in underground fights.

“So I hear. I saw Martin earlier.” He didn’t sound particularly worried about it.

“Are they going to arrest you?”

“They got nothing on me. Most they can do is bring me in for questioning.”

His lack of concern reminded me of Joey. God, men were so exasperatingly overconfident. None of them ever thought anything bad would happen to them.
Maybe that’s how they live like this, day after day.
“So how did the meeting go?”

“Uh, good.”

“And what’s that mean?”

He swallowed some whiskey before answering. “They want me to move my auto repair operation to one of their buildings downtown.”

“Why? So they can keep a closer eye on you?”

“It’s bigger.”

The way he refused to look up from his notebook made me twitchy. “And?”

“And it’s got a second floor where I can run a poker game. And maybe a sports book. Might be organizing some fights too.”

Aha. I sat back. Nothing was more irresistible to Daddy than an opportunity to place a bet. Didn’t matter on what—cards, dice, horses, dogs, fights, ball games…he couldn’t resist. When our mother was alive, her presence had kept the habit in check, but since her death he’d been increasingly susceptible to it. Fear oozed into my bloodstream and my heart thumped a bit quicker. “I’m not sure that’s such a good idea.”

“It’ll mean more money coming in.”

“It’ll mean more going out too. And don’t pretend you don’t know what I mean.”

His ruddy face flushed. “That’s my concern, not yours.”

“Bullshit!” I slammed my hand on the table.

“You watch your tongue, Missy. I’m still your father, and this is still my house. Weren’t you the one who told me to agree to their terms this afternoon, no matter what?”

“Well, yes—but I meant in terms of the bootlegging business. I wanted you to agree to whatever percentage Angel asked for in order to buy the protection you need to keep operating. That’s what he wanted in the first place. If you’d been so agreeable then, we wouldn’t be in this mess.”

“I’m getting out of the whisky business.”

Now I was thoroughly confused. “What? I thought the whole reason—”

“Things are different now. Smalltime bootleggers are done. The mob will eventually control all booze coming in and going out, and I’d have to pay up to somebody anyway. Plus, if I stick to the auto repair business, there’s less risk of being caught. And Angel only takes ten percent of the garage.”

I narrowed my eyes. “What’s he take from the House once you start the poker games?”

“Seventy-five percent.”

“Seventy-five. And that’s agreeable to you, getting only twenty-five percent?”

“Those places make a fortune, Tiny! Twenty-five percent could be a lot of dough.”

Anger spiked my bloodstream. “I see. And what about the girls?”

“What about them? This is good for everybody.”

“Not for me. I’m leaving.”

“What?”

My voice rose, matching the flare of my temper. “You heard me, Daddy. I can’t keep living here and putting off my life any longer. I worked for six months to make enough money to go back to school this fall, and it was gone in a heartbeat last week.”

“I’m sorry about that, Tiny. I never should have ignored Angel’s letters. That was my fault, and I’ll pay you back. You can have money for school.”

I shook my head and spoke through clenched teeth. “That’s not enough. I want to leave home and be out on my own. Save your money, because you might need to hire some help.”

Daddy got to his feet. “You’re not moving away from home, Frances O’Mara, and that’s final. Your family needs you here.” He planted a crooked index finger on the table.

“They need a cook and a housekeeper and a seamstress!” I shouted, jumping to my feet as well. “They need a
mother
, and I’m not her!”

“No, you aren’t!” he yelled back. “Your mother never would have let her family down this way. But when she died, everything changed, and we all have to make sacrifices.”

I gaped at him. Was this the same man who told me earlier how proud my mother would have been of my bravery and selflessness this week? “Sacrifices? I sacrificed five years of my life for this family! Ever since Bridget married Vince, I’ve been running this house and mothering my sisters, and I’m tired of it. Molly is fifteen now—just as old as I was when Bridget left!”

His face went nearly purple. “Your sister left to get married because she’d gotten herself in trouble! I know you’re smarter than that.” In his eyes I saw all the fury he’d unleashed when Bridget had announced she was pregnant at nineteen. But I wouldn’t be cowed.

“I’m going, and you can’t stop me.”

Daddy closed his eyes and took several deep breaths. If I hadn’t just risked my life coming up with the ransom money to free him, he might have slapped me. He didn’t often get violent, but since I had a loose tongue and a fiery temper like his, I’d probably been slapped more times than my three sisters combined.

Tonight he managed to keep control. But his knuckles turned white as he pressed his fists on the table. “We’ll talk about this tomorrow.”

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

“And how will you support yourself, missy?”

“I’ll find a way.”

But the truth was, I had no idea how I’d support myself. Bridget certainly couldn’t pay me enough at the grocery store. It kept Bridget’s family fed and clothed, but it was just a little neighborhood place. I’d have to apply for a job downtown, and even if I got one right away it would be a while before I’d have enough saved to move out. I was still stuck here for the time being.

Goddamn it. Maybe I shouldn’t have said no to Joey so quickly.

#

“Come with me.”

Joey’s words floated toward me through the dark, whispered in a low voice, raw with need. Masculine scents of smoke and whiskey and aftershave filled my head, and I breathed deeply before a sigh escaped my lips. Then his mouth was on mine, hot and hard and heavy. Too heavy.

Joey, I won’t fight you. Take me away.

I tried to murmur words against his lips, but the pressure on my mouth wouldn’t let up.
I’m dreaming
, I thought in a haze of confused arousal.

But when I opened my eyes, the man in my room was real.

And it wasn’t Joey.

“Shhhh,” Enzo whispered, his hand over my mouth. “Come with me. Now.”

My pulse, already racing, kicked up even higher at his invitation, at his touch on my lips, at the promise of sneaking somewhere alone with him in the dark. Clothed in only my light summer nightgown, I followed him past my father’s closed bedroom door, carefully moving down the stairs in my bare feet. It didn’t surprise me at all that Enzo had come right in the front door—he had a way with locks I’d learned not to question.

Outside, I hurried toward a gorgeous cream-colored Packard sedan parked at the curb. Enzo opened the passenger door for me and I slid in, tucking my hands underneath my legs. As I watched his lean, muscular frame move around the front of the car and open the driver’s side door, my insides tightened with desire. He wore no coat, no vest, and no collar on his white shirt. The top few buttons were undone, and my fingers itched to pull the shirt from his trousers and undo the rest of them so I could work off some of the tension inside me. I dug my fingernails into my thighs.

As soon as the motor was running Enzo hit the accelerator, speeding down the street and turning onto Jefferson so quickly I had to brace myself against the door. My heart thrummed hard in my chest. Neither of us spoke, but when his right hand slid across the seat and under the hem of my short nightgown, I moved closer to him.

His expression remained impassive and his eyes on the road, although I saw the slightest twitch in his jaw. I held my breath when his hand settled on the inside of my thigh and slowly crept higher. When his fingers brushed against the soft folds between my legs and he realized I wasn’t wearing underwear, he glanced sharply at me.

My eyes pleaded with him to continue. I wanted to lose control, lose my mind, lose myself. I wanted the heart-pounding abandon that overwhelmed us when we let ourselves forget who we were and why every moment between us was stolen. Ten days ago I hadn’t even known his name, but he’d awakened something in me, something instinctual and insatiable that would not be ignored.

And I didn’t want to ignore it. I wanted to indulge it—now.

With my eyes locked on the exquisite lines of his profile, I put my left hand between his legs. His cock was already hard, but as I rubbed him up and down, it swelled further and strained tighter against his trousers. He slipped a fingertip inside me, sliding it up the slick seam at my center, keeping it torturously shallow, before moving it gently back and forth over the tiny spot that electrified my entire body.

With one hand I slipped the buttons of his trousers through the holes and slid my palm down his hot, tight abdomen. When I wrapped my hand around his solid flesh, he grabbed the steering wheel with both hands.

I said nothing, just moved my hand up and down the hot, thick column, squeezing tight and keeping the rhythm steady, the way I knew he liked it. My lips curved into a smile. The thrill of touching Enzo this way filled me with a sense of power and freedom so intoxicating I often felt drunk when we were together, even when no alcohol had been consumed. The forward motion of the car, the rush of night flying past the windows, the hum of the tires on the road—all of it added to the maelstrom building inside me.

Suddenly the Packard swerved. At first I thought it was accidental, but then I saw that Enzo had turned down a silent residential street with large homes set back from the road. He turned off the engine, looked at me with glittering black eyes, and uttered just one word: “Now.”

The keys barely hit the floor before he hauled me onto his lap.

I straddled him, one knee on either side of his hips, and he took my head in his hands, crushing his mouth to mine. We weren’t in love, about that I had no illusions, but our desire for each other was volatile and fierce, and we kissed as if we were starved, as if our hunger could never be satisfied. Enzo slipped his arms from his braces and I shoved at the sides of his trousers. Without taking his mouth off me, he lifted his hips and managed to shimmy them down just enough. I grasped his swollen cock in my hand again, anxious to feel it inside me.

But we’d already been careless once the night before. “Wait,” I breathed. Do you have…you know…”

Without answering, he tilted sideways and reached under the front seat. When he righted himself, he held a small condom tin, and with one hand, he opened it, slipped one from its paper wrapper, and slid it on.

I lowered myself onto him, intending to go slow since I was still tender from the night before. But Enzo had other ideas. He grabbed my hips and yanked me down hard, both of us gasping at the shock of it. Bracing my hands on the top of the seat behind him, I turned my face away from his and kept still, allowing my body to push past the sharp twinge of pain.

His mouth, hot and wet, traveled down the exposed side of my neck as the ache inside me eased. He swirled his tongue in an intricate pattern along my throat and down to my shoulder. Instinctively, the muscles surrounding him contracted, and I gasped when I felt his teeth sink into my skin. Then he brushed his lips over the spot, soft as a feather.

Aroused by the whisper of his lips on my neck after the sting of the bite, I began to move, slowly rocking my hips forward and back, and clenching him tight inside me. He picked up his head and our eyes met, our mouths open and breathing hotly against one another.

Then he took control of the rhythm between us, using his hands on my hips, pulling and pushing my body against his, increasingly harder and faster. He cursed and closed his eyes while I smiled and reached up, flattening my palms on the car’s ceiling. I let him move me the way he wanted, but I arched my back a little to feel the base of his cock just where I wanted it. A sheen of sweat broke out on his forehead, glistening in the dark, and my back prickled with trapped heat under my nightgown.

Oh my God. Yes, yes, yes…

Pressure built inside me, the powerful need for release a gathering storm at my center, and I wanted to widen my knees even farther to take him deeper. My blood roared, my skin hummed, and every muscle in my body began to tighten.

“Yes,” I said, my voice soft and pleading. “Don’t stop. Oh God, Enzo—yes, like that. Don’t stop…”

He cursed again, and I could feel him start to throb inside me. He dug his fingers into my skin and held me tight to him as he came, and the sight of his gorgeous face and the pulse of his powerful orgasm and even the knowledge that we could be seen through the windows sent me flying over the edge of my own pleasure. I closed my eyes, dropped my head back, and let the waves crash through me.

Breathing hard, I stared at the ceiling of the car as stars swam in front of my eyes. Enzo touched my throat, trailing five fingers down to my chest. “I want you,” he growled.

I laughed lazily, picking my head up. “Again? Already?”

He didn’t smile. “I want you for myself.” His palm flattened over one breast and he squeezed it before sliding his hand to the small of my back. “I don’t want anyone else to have what I have.”

My body was still tingling, but his words abraded the lingering hum a little. I wasn’t interested in being anyone’s possession.

BOOK: Speak Low
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