Speak Easy (13 page)

“Is he?” I took a step back, wanting him to chase me.

“Yes. So this is my office right now. Everything in it is mine.” As my eyes adjusted, I watched him remove his coat and unbutton his vest. My insides jittered in anticipation, and I backed up further. He dropped the vest and loosened his tie as my back hit the sideboard, rattling the decanters and glassware on top. I made a quarter turn and kept moving backward. He pursued me slowly, releasing his arms from his braces, ditching his collar and tie, and unbuttoning his shirt. My tailbone hit something hard. “Stay there,” he said. “I want to fuck you on that desk.”

He closed the distance between us quickly, pulling his shirt from his trousers. Caging me in with a hand on either side of my hips, he devoured his way down my neck to my shoulder. My nipples peaked in response to the nearness of his mouth. I wanted it. I wanted everything. Right now. “Do it,” I whispered.

His voice was raw with want. “I’ve thought of nothing else since I last saw you. I can’t even look at this fucking piece of furniture without seeing your legs open for me.” As I sucked in air, he caught me underneath the arms and set me on top of the desk.

Pulse pounding, I pulled my dress up to my hips, revealing the lace between my legs. Then I opened my knees. Wide. “Like this?” Finally my voice was low and sultry, like I always wished it would be.

“Yes.” Running his palms up my thighs, he unsnapped the step-in with deft fingers. “Just like that.” I trembled as he dipped one finger inside me, opening my legs even more. I wanted that finger deeper, wanted to move against it. But he removed it and rubbed its wetness over my clitoris, making everything inside me twist and tighten. Then he slipped the finger back in, deeper this time.

“Oh my God,” I murmured, falling back onto my elbows. Deep inside me, a slow pull began, rendering me thoughtless and needy beyond expression but for a single word—yes.

Yes. Yes. Yes.

Suddenly
yes
was the most beautiful word in the English language, and I couldn’t stop thinking it. And when he dropped to his knees and put his lips on the inside of my thigh above the garter, I began breathing it, speaking it, the word breaking out in gasps through my open mouth.

Keeping my legs apart with his hands, he kissed his way up one thigh, and then the other. Soft kisses with warm lips and hot breath that made my limbs quiver. With his velvet tongue, he traced a line up the seam at my fiery hot center and then slid a fingertip back inside me. Barely.

I whimpered in protest.

“Beg,” he said.

Before I could release my lower lip from between my teeth to plead with him, he retraced the upward sweep with his tongue, using more pressure. One long, slow stroke that had me writhing in need.

Then he did it again.

And again.

After the third time, which had me moaning his name along with God’s, he lingered at the top, torturing me with decadent swirls and featherlight flicks. Every nerve ending in my body was on fire, and the tight ache beneath his tongue was growing too difficult to bear.

“Please,” I rasped. “Oh God, Enzo, just—”

But I lost the ability to speak then, because he plunged two fingers deep inside me, all the way this time. And as he moved them in a steady rhythm, he continued tantalizing me with his mouth, licking and kissing and gently sucking. I threw my head back and the world went liquid and golden as the tightness peaked and every muscle in my body clenched. The orgasm built quickly and roared through me in glorious waves of ecstasy and relief.

While I gasped for air, Enzo stood and undid the cuffs of his shirt. The masculine task had me panting even harder. He dropped the shirt from his shoulders and pulled his undershirt over his head. The sight of his bare sculpted chest sent me reeling.

“Fuck,” I whispered, sitting up to run my hands over his hot skin. He unbuckled his belt, and my insides quickened again. “Why do I want you so badly?” I swept his hands aside and unbuttoned his trousers myself, pushing them and his underwear down just enough to get my hands on him. Shivers rocketed through me as I recalled his promise at the bar…
First with my fingers. Then with my tongue. Then with my big, hard cock.

Squeezing the solid column of flesh in both hands, one atop the other, I dragged them up and down, slow at first, and then faster. He grew slicker beneath my fingers, and I loved watching his face as I made him grow harder and thicker and more desperate for me. He closed his eyes, struggling for control. “You want me the same reason I want you,” he growled, taking my hands by the wrists and pinning them back on the desk. Then he wrapped one arm around my hip, pulled me toward him and slowly eased his cock into the tight, wet space inside me. “We always want what we can’t have.”

I clutched his shoulders, expecting pain, but I felt none at first, only the sensation of being stretched, and then an exquisite fullness. But just when I thought he was all the way in, he pushed further, making me gasp at the quick, sharp stab deep within. “God, you’re so tight,” he moaned. “It feels so fucking good.”

His words riled me even more, and I moved my hands to his hips to pull him deeper into me. He groaned as if in pain and finally thrust all the way in, both of us crying out at the shock and pleasure of it. Setting a measured rhythm against me, he whispered, “I knew it would feel this good. I told myself not to fuck you, because I’ve never been this hungry for anyone. But when I look at you, I am fucking insatiable. It’s dangerous.”

“What’s so dangerous about me?” I breathed, barely able to talk but thrilling at the sound of his voice, the words he was saying.

“A man…should never reveal his…weakness to his enemies.” He struggled to speak, battling against his body’s need to lose control.

“So which am I—weakness or enemy?” I dug my nails into his skin.

“Both,” he answered, thrusting faster. Sirens went off in my head as my body responded by growing even wetter. We’d have to stop soon, or else—

He froze.

“Fuck.” Pulling out of me, he yanked up his pants. “Fix yourself up, hurry.”

I shook my head, sputtering in disbelief. “What? What?”

“It’s a raid. We have to get out of here.”

I suddenly realized the sirens in my head were
actual
sirens, probably some kind of alarm system in the club. With shaking hands, I pushed my dress down and hopped to the floor without even doing up the snaps between my legs.

“Listen carefully,” Enzo said, buttoning his shirt. “I’m going to take you out a back door and put you in a car. As soon as I find my driver, he’ll come out to take you home.
Damn
it, why tonight, of all nights!”

I was thinking the same thing, but it wasn’t just me I was worried about. “What about all the people down there? I can’t leave my friend!”

“Hopefully, our lookout sounded the alarm in time for people to dump their drinks onto the rugs, and the shelves behind the bar are designed to rotate so the bottles won’t show. As long as we have enough time, we should be fine, depending on who’s doing the raid—DPD or feds.” He crossed the room and scooped his keys off the floor, unlocked the door and motioned for me to hurry. “Come on.”

I rushed to the door, where he took my hand, looked both ways and pulled me down the hall. He wore only his trousers and white shirt, buttoned halfway and not tucked in. Despite the circumstances, the glimpse of his bare chest between the undone buttons made my pulse race even faster. He opened the hidden door and we flew down the stairs and into the tunnel. After scurrying like rats down long, twisting passages, we came to the end. Enzo unlocked the door, and I followed him through it. I couldn’t see anything, but it smelled wet and musty. Our shoes made no sounds on the dirt floor.

“Shit, I don’t have my lighter. It was in my coat pocket,” he said. “But I think the stairs are over here.” With tentative steps, he led me over to a staircase, and we went up, feeling our way with our hands along a brick wall. The door at the top opened into a garage. Thanks to pale moonlight streaming through high windows, I could see several luxury cars parked side by side, along with a black truck and a couple utilitarian Fords like mine.

Leading me to a white Cadillac, Enzo opened the door and shoved me inside. “Get down in the back.” Then he shut me in and took off without even a kiss goodnight. I watched him disappear into the stairwell before sinking into the plush back seat. Police sirens screamed in the distance, but I barely heard them over the riotous banging of my heart. With jittery fingers, I quickly snapped up my step-in, then clamped my knees together, smoothing my dress over my legs. I put my hands over my face. They smelled like Enzo.

My God. What have I done?

Chapter Thirteen

I don’t know how long I sat there in the dark, numb with shock. After a while, I began berating myself for all the mindless things I’d done—left Evelyn with a stranger, gone upstairs with Enzo, had sex with a gangster who didn’t care a whit for me beyond his erection, and who also happened to have my father locked up somewhere. To top it off, I’d abandoned my friend at an illegal club just as the police raided it, and now I sat in the back of said gangster’s Cadillac, waiting for some man I didn’t know to drive me home. I had no purse, no money, no weapon to defend myself.

And what the hell would you defend? Your virtue? Your body? Your honor? Ha! You gave all that away earlier tonight. And for what? To escape? To gain a shred of control where you have none? To feel powerful?

Tears filled my eyes. I didn’t feel powerful now. I felt alone, frightened, and stupid. Sniffing, I wiped my cheeks and whispered a prayer that Evelyn and Rosie had gotten out before the cops got in, and that we’d all make it home safely tonight. When the car door opened I gasped, flattening myself against the back seat.

A man slid into the car without looking at me. “Where to?” he barked, starting the engine. He was tall and thick in the neck, and he wore a cap like Joey.

My voice shook as I gave him my address. I’d have to wake up the girls to let me in the house because my key was in my purse on the floor of Angel’s office.
God, I hope Enzo sees it there when he goes back for his clothes.
I didn’t want his father to find it. The thought of Enzo returning to the scene of our tryst caused a quickening in my stomach.
Don’t you dare
, I commanded my body. But even my mind betrayed me by replaying the entire scene in salacious detail as the car exited the garage and drove away from the club. Outside the window, Detroit’s riverfront flashed by, but I was back in the office with my dress around my waist, head thrown back, waves of delirium crashing through me. I bit my bottom lip.

God help me, I
had
felt powerful. And I wanted to feel it again.

#

My pounding on the front door roused the girls within minutes. The Cadillac lingered at the curb until the lights went on in the house, and I wondered if Enzo had told the driver to make sure I got in.

“Tiny, what on earth is going on? You scared us half to death!” Molly yelled as I entered the house. Mary Grace cowered on the stairs, clutching her bear.

“I’m sorry, girls.” I closed and locked the door. “I lost my purse, which had my keys in it.”

Molly parked her hands on her hips. “How’d you get home? Where’s the car?”

“It’s still downtown. I’ll have to get it tomorrow.” I started up the stairs, patting Mary Grace on the head, the other hand gripping the banister for support. “I’m all right, someone drove me home. Now go back to bed. It’s late.”

“Damn right, it’s late!”

I whirled to face Molly. “Mind your tongue!”

She crossed her arms. “No! I don’t have to listen to you anymore. You’re constantly telling me to behave, do this, don’t do that, and you’re out till all hours of the night doing whatever you please!”

“Let’s talk about this in the morning.” I flicked my eyes toward Mary Grace.

“Fine, but I’m telling you right now, things are gonna change around here. I’m tired of being the babysitter all the time! I’m tired of dragging Mary Grace with me everywhere I go! I have my own friends and I want to spend time with them.” She gritted her teeth. “Alone! I want a later curfew, and I want a bigger allowance.”

“I want! I want! I want!” I screamed, grateful that I was halfway up the steps and therefore taller than Molly. “I want a lot of things too, you know. I want my own apartment. I want to spend the money I earn on
myself
. I want the freedom to go
where
I want
when
I want, and do
what
I want without answering to my father or my little sisters! I want to live life
now
and not wait until I’m too old to enjoy it anymore!” I came down one step and leaned toward her. “But you know what? We always want what we can’t have.” Then I marched up the stairs and into my bedroom, slamming the door behind me.

#

No laughter or frying breakfast greeted me the following morning. Just a dull headache, a dry mouth, and a soreness between my legs. Dragging myself out of bed, I went down to the empty kitchen and called Evelyn’s house. Her mother answered and said Evelyn was already at work, but I could reach her at the bakery if I needed to. I thanked her and hung up, relieved that Evelyn had gotten home all right.
If I had a normal life, I’d go see her so we could talk about what happened.
But instead I had to clean up after my sisters, who’d left their dirty breakfast dishes in the sink, try to reach Joey to find out about the heist, and figure out how to get back the purse and automobile I’d left at the club.

In the bathroom upstairs, I brushed my teeth and stared at myself in the mirror. Did I look different, now that I wasn’t a virgin? I turned my head and shoulders this way and that, but I couldn’t see that sex had altered my outward appearance. My insides—that was a different story. Every time I thought about it, my belly responded with a giant swoosh.

I dressed in a red skirt and the embroidered blouse I’d worn yesterday, which was the cleanest one I could find.
The girls are probably running short on clean clothes too.
Tears threatened as I stuffed a bunch of dirty things into a laundry basket. It was too much, trying to be a parent to them while all this was going on. Guilt over the way I’d yelled at Molly sat heavily on my shoulders. This wasn’t her fault.

After I had everything from my room that needed washing, I let myself into my sisters’ room. Picking through clothing scattered across the bed, floor, and dresser, I tried to determine what was clean and what wasn’t. As I worked, I fretted about the heist, knitting my eyebrows together. Had it gone as planned? I prayed that Joey was unharmed, but realized I wasn’t looking forward to facing him, having been with Enzo…that way.

He’s not your boyfriend. You’ve got no reason to feel guilty where Joey is concerned.
But the thought of meeting his eyes made me want to go downstairs and sneak a little whisky from the pantry.

The door to the girls’ room swung wide. “Get out of here,” Molly said. “This is our room.” She glared at me and I put my hands up in surrender.

“I’m just getting the laundry.”

“I’ll do it myself.”

Sighing, I sank onto Mary Grace’s bed. “Can we talk a minute? I want to apologize.”

“Well, I don’t.” She crossed her arms.

Stay calm. You’re the adult.
I took a deep breath. “Molly, I know how you feel. I remember feeling the same way when I was your age. Bridget had just gotten married, and Daddy was depending on me at home. You were only ten, Mary Grace was six, and there I was, fifteen and suddenly the mother of two, running a house of my own. I wanted the same things you want now, but it was impossible. In fact, I still want them. But we have to make do with what we’re handed in life.”

“No, we don’t. That’s stupid.”

I stared at her. “What?”

“Joey says that if you want something in life, you should go after it.”

“Joey,”
I said, “is the last person you should be taking advice from right now.”

“But he’s right,” Molly went on. “If people just waited around for life to happen instead of going after things, where would we be? Women wouldn’t even have the vote!”

I opened my mouth to argue, but I couldn’t. Taking a deep breath, I asked, “How late?”

“Huh?”

“Your curfew. How late do you want to stay out?”

“Oh.” She chewed one fingernail, considering. “How about eleven?”

I leveled my gaze at her. “Ten.”

“Ten thirty,” she insisted. “That’s what all my friends have. And two dollars more a week for chores. I’ll start doing the laundry, and I can help out with the cooking too.”

I’m too young for this.
Closing my eyes, I nodded. “Deal.”

#

Downstairs, I made a pot of coffee and sat at the kitchen table drumming my nails.
Come on, Joey. Call already!
But the telephone stayed silent all morning.

By early afternoon, my knees were trembling as I helped Molly hang clothes on the line outside. What if the heist had gone wrong? What if Joey was hurt…or dead? Fighting the need to weep, I began forming a plan.
I’ll go to Enzo and beg for mercy. I’ll make a deal with him, work for him, give him the garage and all our business if he’ll just let Daddy go.

My thoughts were interrupted by the ring of the telephone. I raced into the house, grabbed the base and whipped the receiver to my ear. “Hello?”

“It’s me,” Joey said. He spoke quietly, as if he didn’t want to be overheard.

“Thank God you’re OK! Did you get it?”

“We got it. We’re taking the load to Chicago.”

“Chicago! But—”

“I’m having a package delivered to you at the store. Don’t let Bridget open it, under any circumstances. And be careful.” The line went dead.

“Joey, wait!” I pressed the switch hook repeatedly, to no avail. “Shit!” I hung up the receiver and put my fingers to my head, which had begun to pound. A package—what did that mean? Had he gotten the money for me? When was it coming and who was bringing it? I groaned in frustration, but what I really wanted to do was scream. Forcing myself to stay calm for Molly’s sake, I took a few deep breaths and walked back outside. “I have to go to the store for a while,” I said. “I’ll take Mary Grace with me to play with the boys. Can you finish the laundry on your own?”

She took a clothespin from between her teeth and pinned up a pair of bloomers. “Sure. Do you think…maybe I could go to the movies tonight? Without Mary Grace?”

I wanted to say yes, although I couldn’t take Mary Grace with me to get the car, either.
Maybe Bridget will watch her.
“All right.”

“Thanks.” She smiled, the first genuine one she’d sent in my direction in a long time. It struck me how much she resembled Daddy, and I realized how much I missed him and his playful grins, his gruff affection, the way he pleaded to our mother in heaven when we were driving him crazy. A lump swelled in my throat, and I turned away from Molly so she wouldn’t see the tears in my eyes. If I failed…

No. Don’t even think about it.

I collected Mary Grace from a friend’s house down the street, and we walked to the store. I chewed my thumbnail, listening with half an ear to my sister’s steady stream of chatter about her friend’s new kitten. At the store, I sent her up the stairs to Bridget’s apartment and poked my head in the front. Martin was at the register.

“Well, hello, stranger,” he said to me. “Haven’t seen you working much this week. Come to help out?” Martin was a perfectly nice young man with kind eyes and a ready smile, but I was in no mood to chat.

You have to stay here. So make nice.

“Uh, sure. What can I do?”

“How about make room on the south wall for a new Lysol display?”

“All right. Say, Martin,” I began, as if I’d just thought of it, “has anyone brought a package here for me today?”

“Not that I know of, and I’ve been here since nine.” He snapped his fingers. “Come to think of it, there
was
a woman in here looking for you yesterday. But I think she wanted some whisky.”

“Did she leave her name?”

“No, she wouldn’t. Said she’d try again tomorrow.”

Nodding glumly, I headed for the south wall and began rearranging floor wax and soap flakes to make room for the Lysol display. Every time the bell over the door rang, I jumped, but it was never anyone for me. When I finished with the display, I restocked the dry goods shelves, made a pyramid of soup cans, swept the sidewalk, wiped the back counter, and washed the front windows. Anything to keep my hands busy.

“You’re a regular dynamo today,” said Martin. “Bridget should give you a raise.”

I smiled weakly, feeling light-headed as I wiped one last streak from the glass. What if Joey didn’t come through? What if he left me stranded, like he did the other night at the club? A sweat broke out on my forehead.
I’ll go to Enzo and—

The bell over the door rang, and a young boy entered. He looked about ten, a scruffy, undernourished thing wearing torn brown knee pants, black suspenders over a dirty white shirt, and a black cap. The kind of kid hanging around on street corners willing to run errands for a nickel. He reminded me of Joey at that age.

“Can I help you?” I asked.

“Package for somebody named Tiny.”

“That’s me.”

He handed me a box clumsily wrapped in brown paper, and I turned it over in my hands, inspecting it. It was rectangular in shape and flatter than a shoebox. “Did Joey send you?” When the boy didn’t answer, I looked up.

He was gone. I hadn’t even heard the bell ring again.

“Gift from an admirer?” asked Martin from behind the register.

“No, just something from a friend.” Heart pounding, I tucked the box under my arm and went into the stock room. Out of sight, I pulled off the dirty string and removed the rumpled brown paper. Underneath was a blue box that said Tiffany & Co.
Tiffany?
What the hell was this? Slowly, I lifted the top off the box. My eyes bulged.

It was a necklace.

Breathless, I picked it up and let it dangle from my fingers.
It looks like something from a movie!
Five tiny strands of pearls, held together by little diamond-encrusted bars at the sides, came together at the front in a huge, jaw-dropping brooch made up of tiny diamonds in concentric circles. My hands shook as I lifted it to my throat, feeling its weight above my collarbone.

My chest began to pump a little life into my body. I had no idea how Joey had gotten his grubby hands on a Tiffany necklace, but I could sell it, assuming it was real. Even if it wasn’t worth five grand, which it very well could be, it would still bring me a pretty penny. I put it back into the box, did my best to rewrap it, and hid it on a high shelf. Skimming on the periphery of my excitement was the knowledge that the necklace was probably stolen, but I banished that thought from my head. I couldn’t afford to worry about it.