Speak Low (Speak Easy 2)

Joey looked at me carefully. “He told you.”

I nodded.

“Then you understand.”

I saw the pain of his father’s death in his face, and it squeezed my heart. “I do, but…this won’t help, Joey. It won’t stop here. You kill somebody, his friends retaliate. More death isn’t going to solve anything.”

“I gotta do it, Tiny. I feel it in my bones.”

I tried a different tactic. “So you’re giving up the drugs to Enzo? Letting him win?”

“It’s already done.”

My heart fell to my heels. “What about Angelo? When he finds out, he’ll go to Sam, won’t he?”

“I’m gonna talk to Angelo, try to make a deal by cutting him in on my first few whisky hauls in Chicago. As for Sam…” Joey fidgeted, and I knew he was struggling with what was safe to tell me. “Look, the less you know, the better,” he finally said. “But stay away from Sam, and if he tries to contact you, you should tell Enzo right away.”

My mouth fell open in disbelief. “You’re telling me to go to Enzo?”

Joey grimaced. “I don’t like him, and I don’t know what kind of games he’s playing with you, but I do believe he’d protect you if you were in harm’s way.”

I nodded, battling a fierce urge to cry.

He moved for the door.

“Joey, wait.”

He turned to me and sighed. “This is useless, Tiny.”

“I’m scared. And I don’t want you to go.”

With one hand on the door, he said, “Give me a reason to stay.”

I felt like the wind had been knocked out of me.

Give him a reason. Something, anything. Don’t let him walk out that door, because if he’s killed trying to avenge his father’s death, you’ll never have this chance again.

“You could be arrested. Or shot.”

“I don’t care.”

“Killing the gunman won’t bring your father back,” I said, desperate to get through to him. “And your father wouldn’t want you to die for him—he’d want you to live for him.”

Joey set his hat on his head. “I wasn’t asking for a reason from him,” he said quietly. “I was asking for a reason from you.”

With that he moved quickly for the door and disappeared into the rainy dark.

#

Upstairs, I crawled into bed next to Mary Grace and cried myself to sleep.

Chapter Eleven

The next morning, I woke with puffy eyes, a sore throat, and Mary Grace’s stuffed bear tucked underneath m

y arm. Her small hand was resting on my shoulder.

Love and gratitude washed over me. I tried to move without waking her, but her round blue eyes opened as I sat up.