Speak Easy (Speak Easy 1)

The older man appeared to my left. “Miss O’Mara. You’ll find me at Club 23 tomorrow night.” His eyes dropped to my disheveled clothing. “Wear something pretty.” Placing a black fedora on his head, he followed the others out the door, shutting it behind him.

I rushed over to lock it, but when I turned around, my skin prickled with the awareness of someone.

I wasn’t alone.

Knees trembling, I searched the shadows of the silent garage, gasping when I saw a slender man in a dark suit standing about ten feet away, perfectly still. Watching me.

Enzo.

I clenched my jaw. “Go to hell.”

He moved closer, and the sight of his handsome face both thrilled and appalled me. I stiffened when he stopped right in front of me and smiled. “Tell them Angel sent you.”

#

As soon as Enzo was gone, I locked the back door and returned to the office. Sinking into the chair, I put my hands to my head and tugged on my hair. Where were they taking Daddy? And how on earth was I going to come up with ten thousand dollars this week? I had no booze to sell, no talent for rebuilding hearses, and no hiding spot with emergency payoff cash tucked away.

But I had to get it somehow. They knew who I was and how to find me. And if they could find me, they could find my sisters. My nephews. They could bomb not only the garage but the house or the store.

Bridget had been right about Enzo.

Burning with anger, I realized Enzo had to have known about the kidnapping plot when he kissed me in the boathouse. Bastard! Why didn’t he say something then? He could have warned me, but instead he’d let me walk right into this trap. Maybe I’d even been part of the trap—he’d asked questions, followed me, discovered the boathouse. Damn him. I should have known he was trouble. But I’d never been good at resisting temptation. It wasn’t in my blood.

I chewed my thumbnail. Ten goddamn grand. I only knew one way to make that kind of cash, and since I’d just given away all our stock, the only resource I’d have to start with was my envelope full of tips. My tuition money. Crossing my arms over my belly, I lay my forehead on the desk in defeat.

Within seconds, a pounding on the back door had me bolting upright. My heart hammered wildly as I switched off the lamp and waited. More pounding, then the thumping of bodyweight being thrown into the door. Move, you idiot!

I ran out into the garage and frantically searched for somewhere to hide. My eyes roved right and left—I couldn’t open the roll-up door fast enough to escape onto Jefferson, and the only other hiding spots were the basement

or—gulp—a hearse. When a gunshot blasted through the back door, busting the lock, I squeaked in terror and took a running dive into the hearse with no back end. I yanked on a curtain from the window and the whole rod came down. Burrowing underneath the black velvet and curling into a ball, I was starting a Hail Mary when I heard slow footsteps. Then creak of the office door.

Silence.

When the footsteps started up again, they seemed to be coming toward me. I curled tighter into myself, my body stiff with terror. The intruder came closer. I stopped breathing.

Then, for five agonizing seconds—nothing.

Finally, I could stand it no longer. I opened my eyes and peeked out.

Joey stood at the back of the hearse, aiming a pistol at me.

“Tiny?” He dropped the gun and gawked. “What the hell are you doing?”

“It’s a long story,” I said. “Which I might tell you, if I can ever breathe normally again.” I hoped I hadn’t wet myself. Why the hell did everybody have a gun all of a sudden?

Joey tucked his into his waistband and reached for me. “Well, I’m glad you’re not dead. I’m staying at Bridget’s tonight and when I heard noise down here, I looked out the window and saw a body being carried out and put into the back seat of a sedan.”

I let him drag me to the edge of the hearse by my forearms and pull me out. My rubbery legs threatened to buckle. “Yeah, that was Daddy. He’s not dead though. Yet.” I put both hands on my stomach, which was still pitching.

“What?” His voice cracked on the word.

I took a breath and explained, starting with the phone call and ending with my swan dive into the back of the hearse.

“Jesus. Your dad mentioned there might be some trouble.” He scratched his head. “Who were the guys? Did you recognize them?”

“There were five at least. The older one who did the talking was well dressed and maybe in his forties. Dark hair. Didn’t look like the type to do his own dirty work. Two younger guys were with him, and a couple goons.” I decided not to tell him that one of the younger guys was the fancy suit I’d been talking to in the alley.

“Did you get names?”