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I drove straight to Joey’s. The restaurant was closed, of course, and the block was dark and deserted. As I parked along the street, I glanced up to the apartment. No lights were on. I had no idea if there were any guests staying in other rooms or renting other apartments, but I wasn’t going to be able to get into the building if no one was inside. Chewing my thumbnail, I looked up and down the block. This area was not well lit at night, and I had no weapon of any kind.
Or did I?
Frantically, I looked around inside Daddy’s car. Nothing on the floor, nothing under the seat. Standing on the seat, I leaned into the back and checked the secret compartment in the floor, used for hauling whisky.
Nothing.
Dammit, Daddy, you were a bootlegger. Couldn’t you at least be the kind that carried a gun? But he wasn’t. Bootlegging hadn’t been violent until recently, and Daddy’s favorite weapons were his fists, anyway. Slumping back down in the front, I looked at my own fists. Pathetically small. I had nothing to fight back with.
But I had to find Joey.
Exiting the car, I gritted my teeth and took the steps up to the double doors at the recessed entrance. I was completely in shadow. My teeth chattered as I rang the buzzer.
No one came.
Cupping my hands over my eyes, I peered inside and saw the silent lobby, the dark wood staircase. I pounded on the glass pane with the heel of my hand.
No one came.
Tears welled. Where was he? Had Enzo done something to him? Why did one man have to be so greedy? I knew it was futile but I tried opening the door before I pushed the buzzer again, three times. Now don’t get hysterical. He’s probably just still out. But I wasn’t going to feel better until I saw him, held him, safe and sound. Weeping openly, I rushed down the steps and around the side of the building. Maybe I could climb the fire escape.
In the alley, dark and silent and smelling of rotting food, I held my breath and said a prayer I’d be tall enough to pull down the ladder.
But it was already down.
Something about that seemed off, but I climbed it and then raced up the steps to the third floor—oh, shit.
The back door was open.
“Joey?” I peered into the kitchen, my heart knocking painfully against my ribs. It was dark, but my eyes adjusted fairly quickly—no one was there. I entered and crossed to the swinging door to the dining room.
But before I pushed it open, I heard Joey’s voice. “No! Just let her go, Sam, she has nothing to do with this.” His words sounded muffled and strange, as if he had a mouth full of cotton.
“Shut the fuck up, Lupo. I should cut you right now for hiding that dope from me.”
I pulled my hand off the door as if it had burned me, backing up until my butt hit the kitchen cabinet, which rattled noisily.
Shit!
In a panic, I grabbed a butcher knife from a block on the counter, darted into the pantry and shut the door almost all the way. In a moment someone swung into th
e kitchen.
“Nobody in here!” I heard a voice say over the galloping of my heart.
But it would only be a matter of seconds before whoever it was checked the pantry, and I begged God for the strength I’d need to plunge the knife into human flesh. I didn’t want to kill anyone, but I’d need to injure him badly enough so he couldn’t hurt me. Aim for his right side, maybe a shoulder. My hand shook horribly, and I tightened my grip lest the knife clatter to the floor.
And then I remembered the pistol. I swept my left hand along the shelf.
It was still there.
I dropped the knife, swiped the gun into both hands, and screamed as the pantry door opened, revealing the stocky, thick-necked outline of a guy. More than either of the weapons, I think it was the scream that stunned him. He faltered a little at the noise, and I took advantage of his surprise to draw back one foot and kick him in the balls as hard as I possibly could.
Grunting, he went down hard, his own gun clattering to the floor. I couldn’t bring myself to shoot him, even though he might have been willing to shoot me, but I did kick his gun away and clock him over the head with my own.
A few times.