Chapter 16
16
M y jaw dropped. “Missing?”
Enzo nodded, staring me down. “As of this morning, although this is the first I’ve heard of it.”
“You mean, he escaped?”
“Impossible. Not without help.”
I didn’t know whether to be excited that he’d escaped or worried that he was gone without a trace. Then I realized why Enzo was looking at me so intently. “It wasn’t me, Enzo.”
“I don’t think it was you. At least, I don’t think you physically removed him.”
I narrowed my eyes. “But you think it was my idea. That I arranged it.”
He said nothing for a moment, and I slammed the necklace box into his torso. He grabbed it with both hands and grimaced.
“Search the house, Enzo! He’s not here. Search the fucking garage, the store, I don’t care!” I pointed a finger in his face. “Only stop acting like you’re going to seduce me one minute and then strangle me the next. ”
He glared at me, seething. “That is, in fact, exactly how I feel about you.”
I slapped him. Hard, right across his handsome face, fury pounding through my veins.
I wanted to do it again, but he grabbed my wrist on the second swing, and when I brought the other hand up he got that one too, the necklace box hitting the floor with a smack. We grappled for a few seconds, knocking the phone off the hall table. I was overpowered quickly and backed up against the wall, my wrists pinned on either side of my ear. His breath bathed my lips, and his eyes flashed with rage and passion.
“So which is it now?” I asked through clenched teeth.
“Both.” Smashing his mouth to mine, he released one wrist and wrapped his hand around the front of my neck, his fingertips digging into my skin without actually cutting off air. I should have brought my knee up hard, or at least bit him, but instead I licked his lips, searching for his tongue with my own, desperate to drive him as mad as he drove me.
He stepped back, dropping his arms. Our chests rose and fell.
“Go find him, and bring him back here,” I demanded. “You’ll get the money when I see he’s unharmed. And take that goddamn necklace with you.”
Without another word, he picked up the jewelry box, turned on his heel and stormed out the front door.
I locked it behind him, for all the good it would do.
Upstairs, I sat still as stone on my bed and tried to think through this new twist. Daddy is missing? Where the hell is he? And if he showed up here, what would I do? It would look like I’d lied to Enzo, and then he wouldn’t hold up his end of our deal—to leave my family alone. Tipping over, I lay my head on my pillow and curled into a ball. His scent still lingered in my bedroom, and I inhaled deeply.
No, no, no. What am I doing with him?
Despite our inability to keep our hands to ourselves, the two of us would always be suspicious of each other. His passion for me was matched by his need for power and a capacity for violence. I was torn between not wanting to betray a friend and protecting my family against further harm—not to mention my all-consuming attraction to him. But our desire could not dissolve our distrust, and our distrust poisoned our desire.
We were toxic from start to finish.
Somehow I must have fallen asleep, because I woke with a start when I heard the shatter of breaking glass. Heart pounding, I bolted out of bed and dashed to the dresser, yanked open my underwear drawer and pulled out the gun. I’d never fired a gun before but my hands instinctively closed around the hilt, one finger on the trigger. I froze at my bedroom door, listening for an intruder.
Nothing.
I counted to ten, my heart thumping in my throat, and ventured through the doorway.
Nothing.
Holding my breath, I took the steps down slowly, both hands on the gun. The light was still on in the front hall. I looked left toward the kitchen and saw nothing amiss, and to my right the front door was still shut tight. Straight ahead, the front room was dark, but as I entered it, the hairs on the back of my neck stood up.
One front windowpane was busted, and a brick lay on the floor between the sofa and the coffee table. Looking wildly around the room, pointing the gun in every direction, I listened for the hiss of a fuse, recalling what Enzo had said about explosives. But I heard nothing except crickets through the broken window. Lowering the gun, I turned my attention to the brick, which had a piece of paper tied to it with twine. I set the gun down on the table and snatched the paper free.
It was Daddy’s writing.
Bring the money to the boat house at midnite tonite or they will kill me
Midnight! What time was it? I raced into the kitchen to check the clock. It was almost eleven. I put my hand over my stomach. Breathe , I reminded myself. In and out. Make a plan.
I had the money. I had no car, but I could go down to the boathouse on foot, although it would take me about half an hour. The bigger problem was that I didn’t have Joey to go with me, and I had no idea who I’d encounter there. Whoever it was had Daddy for sure—I knew by his chicken scratch handwriting and the way he spelled midnite and tonite.
Midnight. Tonight.
I had one hour.
I raced up the stairs, ripped off my robe and threw on a chemise and dark blue dress. My hair had dried before I had a chance to even comb it, so I hid it under an oversized cloche. Forgoing stockings, I stepped into my shoes and shoved the money inside a large purse.
Right next to the pistol.
By the time I reached the boathouse drive, my hip was aching, my feet hurt, and my dress was sticking to my skin. I peered through the dense shrubs and undergrowth, reluctant to leave the comforting glow of the lights on Jefferson behind. But I had no choice. Carefully I made my way down the dirt road, trying to avoid turning my ankle in a rut, and jumping at every snapped twig.
When the boathouse came into view, lit only by a crescent moon, I stopped. A breeze rustled the trees around me, cooling my skin. I saw no cars. Heard no human voices. Closing my eyes, I exhaled and waited for my hammering pulse to slow down. I wondered how many of them were in the boathouse, and whether Daddy was with them too. How had they gotten here—by boat? I couldn’t see the dock from where I stood, and I’d have to get past the boathouse to check. A few more minutes ticked by while I put off stepping from the trees and facing whoever waited for me inside.
Enough stalling. It’s got to be close to midnight.
Squaring my shoulders, I left my hiding spot and headed toward the boathouse with one hand in my purse, my fingers on the reassuring metal of the gun. I was three feet from the door when a shadow came at me from the direction of the dock. My hand closed around the gun just has a heavy object slammed against my left temple.
The shadow eclipsed the moon, and everything went dark.
As the fog lifted, a man in a burlap sack mask with eyeholes stood over me, coiling a rope. When I could see, I realized I was lying down in the bottom of a boat, my wrists tied together in front. Lifting my arms, I touched my sore temple with the back of one hand. The pain reverberated throughout my skull. My hat was gone, but it had probably saved my skin from breaking open. I attempted to sit up, but my head throbbed, making me woozy and nauseous. I fell right back down again, moaning in pain.
“Not so fast, doll.” That voice...it was familiar, but I couldn’t place it. Confusion clouded all my senses.
My purse—I need my purs e, I thought through the haze. There’s something in there that will help me. I felt around for it the best I could, but my efforts garnered only a squawk of laughter.
“Don’t bother, toots. I got the goods right here— the money and the heater. Quite a piece you were packing. Not as good as mine, though.” He jerked his head toward the machine gun on the seat behind him. “But I’m gonna pat you down anyway. Been waiting to get my hands on you.” He knelt and groped me roughly, taking perverse pleasure in running his hands all over me, laughing continuously, an annoying, scratchy heh-heh-heh that prompted my brain to make a connection.
The pimply-faced goon, Raymond’s friend.
I licked my dry lips. “Harry?”
“You remember me, huh?” He pulled off the mask.
“Unfortunately.”
He squeezed my upper arm and snarled. “Kinda brave for a little girl without her gun. If I hear another insult, you might end up without more than that. Like your pretty face.”
“What do you want with me? You got the money, so just let me go.”
“No chance. Now stay put.” He started the engine, and we took off, heading downriver. Looking back, I could see Daddy’s boat bobbing next to the dock. Clarity was returning with painful jabs to the head. Am I being kidnapped? Where’s Daddy? Are the DiFiores behind this? But it didn’t make sense—unless Enzo had lied about my father being missing and set me up. Was the entire phone conversation a ruse? It was possible, but why would Angel need to trick me into giving him the money a day early? Why wouldn’t Enzo have just taken it earlier tonight?
I tried to piece everything together as the boat picked up speed. The heist, the false alarm, the necklace, Enzo and I at the boathouse, the package from Joey, Enzo and I in my bedroom, the phone call, the brick through the window, the blow to the temple, being tied up and taken somewhere by Harry.
But I was completely baffled.
The boat swooped through the chop, as unsteady as my stomach. Stay calm and think. Was it possible Harry was working alone? “Where are we going?” I shouted over the motor, tucking my knees inside my elbows. Suddenly I was chilled to the bone.
“Niagara Falls, doll. For our honeymoon.” He cackled with glee.
“Did you take my father?”
He looked at me. “Maybe.”
“Where is he?”
“At the bottom of the river, waiting for you.”
“You son of a bitch!” I yelled, kicking at his ankles and seething when he laughed. Frantic to escape, I looked at the rough black water. I considered jumping in and swimming for it, but knew I’d be no match for a machine gun, especially with my hands tied. I’d be dead in seconds, my bullet-riddled body found days later by some unsuspecting bootlegger or fisherman, the account written up in the papers. Girl Caught in Crossfire of Bootleg Wars. I didn’t want my sisters to suffer that. Hunkering down, I hugged my knees to my chest again and kept my face averted from Harry. If I had to look at him, I’d be sick. Where is he taking me? Did he really kill Daddy? And why doesn’t he just kill me, if that’s what he’s going to do? Finally, I laid my forehead on my knees and wept.
Eventually, we reached some unlit docks along the river. I saw no one around. Harry pulled up and tied the boat to a post. After jumping onto the wooden platform, he reached down for me and I was forced to give him my arms. He yanked me roughly to my feet like a small child and marched me to a dark-colored Chevrolet. Opening the door, he shoved me in the back seat. “Lie down back there and be quiet. I don’t have any problem taking you out of this, so you better behave.” He slid into the driver’s seat, placing his gun and my purse beside him, and started the car.
Could I reach the gun? Not without his catching on to me. I lay back across the seat, wiping my nose on my sleeve.
I was trapped.
After an endless drive on horribly bumpy roads that made my head feel as if someone was beating it with a crowbar, Harry slowed the car. I sat up and looked out the window at a small dilapidated cabin, lit only by the Chevrolet’s headlamps. Panicked, I searched for other houses but saw nothing—just woods. The headlamps went off, and blackness enveloped us. Harry spoke over his shoulder. “No use screaming, so keep your mouth shut. I don’t like girl noise.”
He put his gun in his coat and got out. When he opened my door, he locked his fingers around my upper arm and dragged me toward the cabin. I’d have a bruise tomorrow for sure. If I had a tomorrow. He led me up a few creaky wooden steps to a lopsided porch and knocked on the front door—a rhythmic series of long and short staccato beats.
“That’s not the knock,” complained a voice from inside.
“Shut your mouth and open the fucking door, you idiot,” shouted Harry. “I’ve got her.”
The door opened, revealing a sparsely furnished room with a plank floor. Ahead of me, a beat-up brown sofa was against the wall. A square table and two mismatched kitchen chairs were off to the left, and in the low light of a few kerosene lanterns, I saw the dim outline of crude bathtub gin equipment in the corner. The door slammed behind us, and lurking there in the shadows was Raymond DiFiore. “Hiya, doll. Glad to see me?”
“No.” I narrowed my eyes at him, then looked around for Enzo. If he’d set me up, I was going to kick him in the balls, and then kill him. I was pretty sure Raymond would let me.
“Where do you want her?” Harry released his grip on my arm and pulled the wad of bills out of his pants pocket.
“How much she have on her?”
“Didn’t count it yet. ”
Raymond snatched it from Harry’s hands. “I wanna count it.”
Harry rolled his eyes but allowed Raymond to shuffle through the bills.
“Fifty-six hundred,” Raymond announced proudly.
“Wrong,” I said. “There’s only five grand there, you idiot. It’s what I owe your father.”
“Don’t make funna me!” he yelled in my face. “You should be nice. I told Harry not to hurt you. And I sent you a present.” He huffed. “I’ll count it again.”
A present? The realization turned my stomach to lead. The necklace. Raymond had stolen the necklace from Enzo’s apartment and sent it to me. But why?
He parsed through the stack of bills with an agonizing lack of haste as I shuddered, disgusted that I had worn a gift from this jerk. And I didn’t see how it made sense. He’d stolen from his own brother? Maybe Enzo isn’t involved.
“Yep. About Five G’s.” Raymond looked pleased with himself and pocketed some cash.
“Hey, gimme some too,” demanded Harry.
Raymond looked put out, but he handed Harry a few bills and tamped the rest of it together. “Should I put this behind the pishmission?”
“Partition! Partition! How many goddamn times I gotta tell you how to say that word!” shouted Harry. “And it’s not a partition, it’s just a wall. You drive me fuckin’ crazy.” He grabbed the money from Raymond. “Move the sofa.”
Raymond did as he was told, revealing a removable panel in the wall. Behind it was a stash of guns, booze, and cash. My insides twisted painfully— this was an elaborate setup. What did they want with me?
Harry shut the panel and moved the sofa back in place. “Now where should I put her? In the bedroom?”
“Yeah. For now.” Raymond looked at me, a glint in his eye. “I think you’ll like it there, got a little surprise for you. ”
“Wait a minute.” I dug my heels in before Harry could drag me away. “Why are you keeping me here? What do you want?”
“What everyone wants, doll,” said Raymond with a ghoulish leer. “A piece of the pie.”
“And since no one was gonna give us any, we decided to serve ourselves.” Harry laughed obnoxiously before giving me a shove down a short hallway to our left. He opened a door and pushed me through it, pulling it closed behind him.
The room was dark and fetid. As my eyes adjusted, I saw a bed in front of me.
Someone was on it.
I gasped, and the person moved. At least it’s not a dead body , I thought with temporary relief. But was it one of them? Pressing my back to the door, I stiffened. “Who’s there?”
The person sat up. “Tiny?”