Speak Easy (Speak Easy 1)

“You be quiet, girlie. Don’t make me mad.” He extinguished the lanterns and opened the cabin’s front door. Then he picked up a gun from the table and poked it into my side. “We’re going back to the city. No funny business.”

In the driveway, I considered making a run for it, but I had no idea where I was and guessed he could probably shoot me pretty easily in the open space. Not to mention what he’d do to Daddy, a sitting duck in there, cuffed to the bed. I looked in every direction but saw no sign of sunrise. No way to even tell which way was east or west.

Raymond opened the car door, pushed me into the back seat, and told me to get down. He drove while I wept, bumping around in the back seat on pocked rural roads. Please, God, I begged silently. Help me. When the ride smoothed out, I picked up my head. We were on city streets now, and the first signs of dawn lit the sky. I recognized the garage where he parked—it was the same one Enzo took me to during the raid. We’re going to Club 23. The idea pumped some life into me—maybe Enzo was there. Raymond yanked me out of the car and stuck the pistol in my side again.

We went through the tunnel into the club, up several flights of stairs, and emerged in an unfamiliar hallway dimly lit with ornate brass wall sconces. A dark red carpet runner lay in the center of the polished wood floor, giving the appearance of a hotel. Were these private rooms or apartments? Was Enzo here somewhere? If I called out for him, would Raymond shoot me? Recalling the speed with which he shot Harry, I decided not to risk it.

Raymond took a jumble of keys from his coat pocket and fumbled with them. After two unsuccessful tries, he located the correct key and opened the door to a bedroom. Some light spilled in from the hallway, illuminating a large mahogany bed made up with white linens. A dresser was opposite the bed, an ornate lamp whose shade dripped with dark purple fringe stood next to a mirror in one corner, and white lace curtains stretched from floor to ceiling over the windows. A narrow door opened onto a tiny bathroom, which I eyed thankfully.

Raymond pushed me in. “Now you be good and quiet in here. If you do everything I say, we still got our deal.”

“Wait.” I held up my wrists. “Can you please cut this rope? I have to use the bathroom.”

“Oh. Yeah, I guess I could.” Pulling a knife from his muddy boot, he slashed the rope, and my arms were blissfully free.

“Thanks.” I felt like adding you asshole, but I bit my tongue.

He stuck the knife back in his boot and left, shutting the door behind him. The lock clicked. I went to the cheval mirror in the corner, wincing at the blackish purple bruise at my temple. I wish I had some aspirin. After I used the bathroom and washed up, I fell back across the foot of the bed. Closing my eyes, I waited for the tears to flow again, but they didn’t. In my head, a thousand little spiders spun webs of fear, anger, confusion, and pain. But I refused to give up. Tangled in there somewhere was a little thread of hope.

If only I could think clearly, make a plan. In a fog of mental and physical fatigue, I saw Enzo walking away from me in the alley again. Don’t fall asleep. Stay awake. Stay awake. But my heavy eyelids refused to open. OK, I’ll just rest for a minute or two. I’ll think better if I’m refreshed.

Numb with exhaustion, I slept.

I awoke to someone touching my face.

Chapter Eighteen

I opened my eyes and rolled away when I realized it was Raymond’s sweaty palm on my cheek. “Getting your beauty sleep? That’s good. I like my girl to be fresh.”

“I’m not your girl.” I scrambled backward on the bed.

His face darkened. “Hey, we made a deal. So you don’t question me.”

I twisted my fingers together. “But—but you’re so handsome, Raymond. You could have any girl you wanted, I bet.” The words made my skin itch.

He nodded. “You’re right about that. I could. And that girl is you.” He slid off the bed and stood. “We got an important meeting today.”

“What meeting? With who?”

“With my father. So’s he can see what I’m doing.” He pouted. “I’m sick of being on the side all the time. I want my piece of the pie. Enzo’s been eatin’ my share all my life.”

“The greedy bastard,” I commiserated.

Raymond looked pleased. “Yeah.” He rocked back on his heels, opening his arms wide. “But now look—I’ll be way bigger than Enzo. I’m gettin’ the hijacked booze back, I arranged to get a percentage of Jack O’Mara’s rackets, and I got a hot little fancy, just like him.”

I wondered what he meant by that last bit, but I was too scared to ask. At this point, I’d agree to almost anything—as long as he didn’t try to touch me again.

“I can’t wait to see their faces when they realize,” he went on. “I just hope they permeciate all the work it took.”

“Appreciate.”

He grimaced. “You better…’preciate it too, doll. I coulda hurt both you and your pop a hunnerd times already. But no.” He hooked his thumbs in his braces. “I been a gentleman about it.”

I was tempted to shove him to the floor and make a run for it. But I didn’t think I could take him down—he wasn’t as tall as Enzo, but he was a lot bulkier.

He waved a hand at me. “Now go clean yourself up. I gotta go get your pop and work out the details of our arrangement. I’ll be back later.” He turned to leave but halted abruptly, lurching back around and reaching for me. Before I could protest he grabbed me by the shoulders, pushed me backward on the bed, and smashed his face to mine. I could barely breathe against his smothering lips, and his chest was unbearably heavy. I did my best to squirm out from under him, twisting my face from side to side, but he had my arms pinned. Finally, he let go and backed off, and I wiped my mouth with my sleeve.

Raymond harrumphed. “You better get used to that. A man’s got a right to kiss his girl.” He adjusted the crotch of his pants.