Speak Low (Speak Easy 2)

“No, but…”

“Lupo’s a grown man, Tiny. He makes his own decisions, and now he’s got another one to make.”

An alarm pinged in my head. “About what?”

“Come into the bedroom and I’ll tell you.”

I scowled at him. “You’re impossible.”

Enzo smiled and disappeared into the bedroom, and I followed a moment later when he switched on a lamp. The room was even more impressive than the parlor, with two big windows on the left, a large closet with a full mirror on the door, and a private bathroom with a claw-footed tub. The bed, with its scarlet-hued spread and curvy high-backed frame, looked especially inviting. And it wasn’t just because I could imagine myself and Enzo naked underneath that coverlet, although that was easy to do—I was exhausted.

“All right. I’m in here. Now tell me.”

He took my purse from me and laid it on a chair in the corner. “Do you like the apartment?”

I loved it, but there was no way I would live here at his beck and call. Not when he had a wife living with him somewhere else.

I turned away from him. “I’m not doing anything else until you talk.”

“You don’t have to do anything,” he murmured, coming up behind me. He brushed my hair off the back of my neck and rubbed his lips on my nape. His breath sent shivers down my spine, and I willed myself to be strong, even though it felt so good. He kissed his way down one side of my neck and slipped one strap from my shoulder. “I simply told him…” He kissed that shoulder. “That I had some information…” He slipped the other strap from my shoulder and pressed his lips there too. “I thought he’d be interested in.” He brought his hands to my shoulders and trailed his fingers down the insides of my arms. “Interested enough to trade for the opium.”

“What kind of information?” I whispered, my arms tingling.

He bracketed my hips with his hands and pulled me into him. “Well,” he said, bending at the knee to grind against me before whispering in my ear, “I know who killed his father.”

Chapter Nine

I wrenched myself from Enzo’s grasp and stumbled forward. “What did you say?” Pulling the straps of my dress back on my shoulders, I stared at him in disbelief.

“I know who killed his father,” he repeated, as if we were discussing the weather. “I know who pulled the trigger outside the station and I know who ordered the hit on Big Leo that killed him.”

“But—but how?”

“Nobody keeps a secret for that long in this business. It’s been a few years now—eventually you find someone disgruntled with a particular faction and willing to talk, for the right price, of course.”

“Of course.” My mind was spinning. I knew how badly Joey wanted to find out who’d killed his father—he’d just told me so when we were on the roof. Undoubtedly he’d give up the drugs to know who pulled the trigger. But would he stab Angelo in the back? “So…so did you tell him?”

“No. I simply told him I had the information. If he wants the details, he’ll have to decide what they’re worth.” He moved toward me again, but I backed up.

“Just wait.” I put my hands out. “I’m a little flustered right now.”

“I like you flustered.” He kept coming at me and I thought he might back me right into the closet but instead he swept me off my feet and carried me over to the bed.

“Enzo, please.”

He set me down and slipped my shoes off. “Please what? I’ll do anything you want me to.” Running a hand up one leg, he paused at different places—my knee, my thigh, and finally my hip. “I’ll kiss you here. And here. And especially here.” He slipped his fingers inside the loose edge of my step-in and brushed them against my tingling skin.

Oh, God. He was so handsome and the room was so beautiful and the bed was so inviting and I knew it would feel so good, but—

“No.” I pushed his hand away, brought my knees together, and propped myself up on my elbows. “I’m not doing this with you. You’re about to marry some other girl, and—”

“Jesus!” he exploded, pounding a fist into the bed. “How many times do I have to tell you? I’m not going to fucking marry her!”

“You lie!” I shouted through gritted teeth. “You’re always telling me just what I want to hear and nothing that’s actually true. Until you prove to me that you’re not stashing me in this apartment just so your wife won’t see us together, we’re not doing this.”

He eyed me angrily. “You knew about her last time we did it. And you knew we had to keep our time together a secret. What’s changed?”

“I don’t know!” I yelled. “But something has.”