Speak Low (21 page)

Sam glared at me. “Get the fuck out of here, I said, before I show you the way myself.”

“You lay one finger on her, and I’ll rip you to fucking shreds,” Joey said, the clearest words from him yet.

“You got a lot of nerve talking to me like that, Lupo, after what you pulled. I ever hear you held back again, I’m gonna lay more than my finger on her and make you watch.”

I saw the rage erupt in Joey and he vaulted out of the chair and hurled himself at Sam, butting his head into Sam’s chin.

“Joey, no!” I cried.

Sam was easily able to shove Joey down to the floor, and he grimaced, touching his tongue to one bloody corner of his mouth. “You’re gonna pay for that,” he said. “I thought you were smarter than Angelo, but I guess I was wrong.” He brought the blade to Joey’s cheek, and I snapped.

Rushing forward with the pistol out in front of me, I took aim at Sam’s chest.

And I pulled the trigger.

Chapter Eighteen

Turns out, I did have it in me to shoot someone.

It also turns out that I’m a horrible shot.

I missed his chest by a mile, putting a bullet in his leg instead. But it was enough to knock him backward, and as he staggered I pulled the trigger again. This time I caught him in the shoulder, and he dropped his blade, groaning in pain. I raced into the room and scooped it up.

To my utter shock, he actually stumbled for the kitchen door and disappeared through it.

“Oh no!” I cried. “Should I go after him?”

“No!” Joey struggled to sit up. “Let him go. Just let him go, he won’t get far.”

I rushed over to him. “Oh my God,” I said, breaking down again. “Are you OK?”

“I’m fine, baby. Where’s the other guy—Freddy?”

“He’s in the kitchen. I kicked him in the balls and knocked him out with your dad’s gun.”

Joey actually tried to smile. “He’d be proud of you.”

I untied Joey’s wrists and ankles. He threw his arms around me and I wept into his chest, relieved and grateful. “Shhhh, it’s OK now. It’s OK,
cara
.” Then he murmured something in Italian, I had no idea what, but his voice was soothing and the lilting, rhythmic words were so beautiful, I grew calmer immediately.

Joey took one of the guns and went into the kitchen, where he discovered Freddy had disappeared as well. However, he must have been too cloudy-headed to handle the fire escape because the police found him in a heap of broken bones beneath the iron staircase as if he’d fallen. Either that or Sam had pushed him.

Turns out there had been someone else in the building, and though she’d been too scared to answer my knock after hearing the shouts from Joey’s apartment, she’d called the police. Freddy lived through the fall and was promptly arrested after being released from the hospital.

Sam Scarfone was not so lucky—but it wasn’t my bullets that killed him.

Joey once told me that friendships and rivalries change with the wind in organized crime. You can never be sure exactly who your allies or enemies are at any given moment. Someone might shake your hand one day and sign his name with your blood the next. That summer, there were a lot of shifting alliances as the top figures in Detroit’s underworld sought to position themselves to make the most money and gain the lion’s share of the criminal rackets.

Enzo, unable to handle his jealousy of Joey and seeking to punish him for the hijacking, had extended an offer to Sam Scarfone, unbeknownst to me. If Sam would run booze for Enzo’s clubs, Enzo would tell him about River Gang members who’d screwed him out of thousands of dollars on a drug heist. Sam responded by confronting Joey the evening I showed up, and might not have killed him, since they had been friendly before, but I don’t know for sure. In their business, there was no greater crime than not paying up.

However, earlier that day Joey had reached out to the old guard of the Scarfone faction, the men who’d split with Sam over control of the Scarfone territory after Big Leo’s death. To get even with Sam for ordering the hit that had killed his father, Joey spilled what he knew about Sam’s role in his uncle’s death, and the old guard agreed—Sam had to pay.

His bullet-riddled body was found in the river a few weeks after the incident at Joey’s.

No one was convicted.

Angelo, who had agreed to Joey’s offer of a cut of his bootlegging spoils, had been roughed up pretty good by Sam and wore a necklace of scars the rest of his life, but he survived. The River Gang disbanded once Sam was gone, and the leaders of the various powerful outfits in Detroit and the rest of the Midwest got together and agreed on a distribution of territory to cut down on violence. Eventually, even the outfits on the East Coast reached out to make a deal that would set up mutually beneficial smuggling operations.

Joey and Angelo decided to partner up and bought a boat together, and they ran whisky from Canada across the river on a regular basis for ten more years under the protection of the Scarfone outfit—until Prohibition ended. Eventually, they had enough money to buy an airplane, and they partnered with a few Canadian farmers who agreed to let their fields be used as landing sites in exchange for some booze and a fee. I wasn’t crazy about Joey staying involved in organized crime, but he promised me it would only be bootlegging, and he’d stay out of trouble. After all, he wanted to dedicate most of his time to running the restaurant and raising a family with me.

As soon as his injuries healed, we were married at Holy Family and feted by friends and family at a reception at the restaurant. The morning of the wedding, a beautiful September Saturday, my sisters and Evelyn helped me dress in my old bedroom.

Bridget, dressed in soft blue, fastened the row of buttons at my back and we exchanged a look in the mirror remembering what she’d said about Joey getting them undone later. Molly and Evelyn, also in blue, settled the veil’s crown on my head and adjusted the tulle to fall around my shoulders. Mary Grace, in a sweet white dress, brought me my satin shoes and helped me into them. Bridget and Evelyn were teary-eyed, but I felt nothing but pure joy.

At the back of the church, I stood with Daddy, waiting for the processional to begin. He’d been mostly silent throughout the wedding preparations, grumbling at the price of things here and there, but never denying me something I really wanted. Now, we stood aside in the vestibule with our arms linked, my fingers tight around the stems of white roses.

“Tiny,” he said, his voice gruff, but soft. “I need to say something.”

“Now?” I whispered, glancing nervously toward the aisle.

“Yes, now.” His jaw was set.

“All right, Daddy.”

He swallowed. “I’m not good with words or affection like your mother was.”

“It’s OK.”

“Let me finish,” he said as the organ bleated the first notes of my processional music. The church coordinator began sending my sisters up the aisle as Daddy tugged me back. “When your mother died I did the best I could, but I know most of the raising fell on Bridget and then you. I could’ve done better to help.”

His voice caught, and I squeezed his arm. When he looked at me, I was stunned to see tears in his eyes. My throat immediately tightened.

“Of all the girls, you’re the most like me, Tiny. You’re the spittin’ image of your mother, but you’ve always been the most like me and I suppose that’s why I’ve let you get away with more, the whisky and everything, and why I’ve been harder on you.”

“I understand.” I shot a nervous glance up front. Was Joey there yet?

“I’m sorry for the things I’ve done that have hurt you or put you in danger, and I’ll always remember how you—did what you did for me. I might not’ve come through without you.”

“I’d do it all again. And you’d do it for me.”

“I would.” And he put a hand over his heart.

I knew he meant
I love you
, and I leaned over to kiss his cheek. “I love you too, Daddy. We are who we are, and the people who love us have to take us as we are. But now you gotta get me to the front of the church, or Joey’s gonna think I changed my mind.”

He sniffed. “Let’s go, then. I need a jar of whisky, and there ain’t any in this church.”

I smiled, the lump in my throat dissolving, and we stepped into the center aisle. Mary Grace was just reaching the altar, and we paused a moment, allowing the guests to rise. I was briefly stunned at how many people were there, perhaps more than a hundred, but then I remembered how large Joey’s family was. His mother and sisters were so thrilled with our plans to marry, they’d insisted on inviting every last person on the family tree with breath in their body.

For a second, nerves knotted in my stomach, but then Joey walked to the altar, and they unraveled into a thousand butterflies taking flight. Daddy and I began walking toward him at a quick clip, so quick that some guests hid smiles behind gloved hands and handkerchiefs. But I didn’t care—Joey was waiting for me. It wasn’t just his gorgeous face or the beautiful dark blue suit, or the strong body beneath it. It was that I
knew
that body now, every inch of it. I knew his mind. I knew his heart. I knew his history and his hopes for the future. I knew that he loved me and wanted me and understood me. He wanted to see the world with me. Some people might see marriage as a thing that trapped a girl in her home, but I knew life with Joey would never be dull, even if we never left the house.

In fact, as my eyes traveled from his slicked back hair to his lips and down his torso, I thought never leaving the house sounded like a pretty good idea.

I forced myself to keep my mind as pure as possible—we were in church, after all—and looked Joey in the eye. His were wet, and as I got closer, he blinked and then brought a hand up, thumb rubbing at one eye, fingers at the other. I smiled at him, full to bursting.

Daddy gave me away, Joey took my arm, and the rest of the ceremony was a blur but for the moment Joey slipped the ring on my finger. He’d wanted to surprise me, and he did—my mouth fell open and I didn’t stop staring at my hand for a full ten seconds, so long the guests began to chuckle. It was unbelievably beautiful—a large rectangular diamond surrounded by delicate filigree work in a silver band. Later he would tell me the diamond was emerald cut and the metal was platinum. The ring reminded him of me, he said—lovely and strong all at once. I had no idea how he afforded such a ring, and I never asked. Some things I just learned not to question.

We shared a chaste kiss when the priest pronounced us married, and Joey squeezed my hands. “Mrs. Lupo,” he whispered in my ear as our guests cheered.

I loved every moment of our reception—especially one particular moment when I caught Joey watching me from across the restaurant. Rather than smile, he simply locked eyes with me and jerked his head toward the kitchen. I had a feeling I knew what he meant, and my belly tightened with desire. He excused himself from whomever he was talking to with barely a glance, and he came over and grabbed my hand. Moving quickly, he pulled me through the kitchen door and we flew by the surprised staff. I laughed out loud, glad I’d already removed the veil from my head. I’d have tripped for sure.

The moment the pantry door slammed shut, he kissed me for real, wrapping his arms around me and lifting me right off the ground. “Mmmmm.” He teased my tongue with his. “I can’t wait any longer.”

“Me either,” I said. “But we can’t leave yet.”

“Who said we had to leave?” He set me down and ran his hands up my sides.

I laughed. “Joey, this dress!”

“It’s beautiful.” He kissed his way down my neck, setting my skin on fire. “You’re beyond beautiful.”

I shivered, cradling his head at my chest. “I still can’t believe it. We’re married. We’re actually
married
.”

“I know.” His words were muffled as he kissed my breasts through my dress. “So even if they miss us, they can’t say anything. And I can’t wait to taste you one more minute.”

He dropped to his knees, lifting the long tiers of my dress up to my waist. Holding them aloft, he pressed his lips to my thighs above the white stockings clipped by garter to my corselette. Moaning again, he brought his mouth to my center, covered by the thinnest layer of loose silk that snapped between my legs. “Back up,” he said.

I did, bracing myself against the pantry door.

“Good. Now put your leg on my shoulder.” I rested the back of one thigh on top of his shoulder, gasping as he nibbled and sucked at me through the silk. “Now the other.” His breath was hot on my skin.

Since his hands were holding up the front of my dress, only his shoulders would hold my weight. But I was so needy for him, I plastered my hands on the door next to my hips and swung my other leg up.

Sometimes being small was a blessing.

Joey easily held me suspended on his shoulders, burying his face between my legs. Unsnapping the step-in with his teeth, his magnificent mouth worked the damp silk aside and he slipped his tongue inside me, eliciting a long sigh of pleasure from deep in my throat.

Eventually he let my dress fall over his head and reached under my backside to hold me to him. I had no idea how he managed not to suffocate, but I was so deliriously aroused I didn’t give it more than a passing thought. He absolutely devoured me, licking and sucking and fucking me with his tongue until I was panting and digging my heels into his back and pounding my hands on the door behind me. When I finally came, I yelled his name so loud I was positive the entire reception heard. He moaned into my pulsing wetness, making me throw my head back, and it banged the door, hard.

I’d have a lump.

I didn’t care.

As I began to breathe again, he kissed each of my inner thighs before helping me stand. “God, I love that.” He hugged my legs from his kneeling position. “I want to do that every day. Twice a day.”

I laughed. “We’ll never leave the house.”

“Fine with me, Mrs. Lupo.”

The name sent a ripple of joy through me. I looked down at him and wished I could see his face in the dark. Smoothing my hand over his hair, I marveled at how we’d ended up here. “I love you.”

He stood and pressed his lips to my forehead before pulling me into his chest. “I love you too.”

I breathed in the scent of him, knowing how lucky I was to be in that moment. So many things could have prevented it—from outside threats to our own stubbornness. “Isn’t it amazing,” I said, “how much has changed this summer?”

“Definitely. Just think about how much you disliked me before now.”

I squeezed him tighter. “I didn’t dislike you. You just drove me crazy with all your teasing.”

“That’s how I showed I cared.”

“Well, you have better ways now.”

He kissed my temple. “Yes, I do. But I’ll probably still tease you.”

“How would I know I married the real Joey Lupo if you didn’t?”

He released me slightly and tipped up my chin. “I’d do anything for you.” He kissed me. “Anything. You want me to leave bootlegging behind, I’ll do it. You want to move away from Detroit, I’ll do it. You want ten kids, I’ll do it.”