The Canary Club Page 22

  Reaching around her, I find the top of her zipper at the base of her neck. I peel it away slowly, the fabric of her blue dress separating under my fingers. She moans against my touch and I rise, kissing her bare shoulder as I draw the top of her dress free, exposing her white lace brazier.

  I pause for a moment, unable to move, unable to breathe. Drinking in her beauty, I marvel at the complete ridiculousness that this goddess is mine. The hot pulse of need that has been slowly building in my abdomen quickens at that thought. Mine. I want to make Masie mine in every sense of the word.

  I take my time then, exploring every inch of her, kissing the milky skin as I expose it. In one motion, I lift her and turn, laying her beneath me. When I finally come to rest beside her, I can barely speak. Pressure is built up inside me, a pleasure bordering on pain. Even so, I will go no farther until I’m sure.

  “Masie…” Her name escapes my throat in a sort of growl. There are so many things I want to say, but my mind is too crowded to form a full thought. Instead, I slide my gaze down the length of her, marveling at each curve.

  She props herself on one elbow, running her hand down my bare chest, her fingernails grazing my stomach, down into the top of my trousers.

  This time I moan, unable to make anything other than the most basic, guttural sound as she unfastens my pants, tugging them down with one hand as I frantically try to assist.

  “Are you sure?” I manage finally, my palm flat against the smooth skin of her stomach.

  Her eyes shine in the soft yellow light, her lips parting as she licks them. “I don’t want to be anyone else’s, Benjamin. Make me yours.”

  And with that, I cast the final, frayed strands of my inhibitions aside and do as she demands.

  Afterward, she lays half draped across my chest, our legs entwined. Her hair, short as it is, is splayed across my torso. I roll a few strands between my fingers.

  “You should probably go,” I say, though it’s the last thing I want.

  She turns her head, dragging her chin along my skin. “I’d never move again if I could manage it. I’d just stay here, like this, with you.”

  She rubs herself against me and a familiar pressure grows, tugging at places below my waist.

  “I don’t want you to go,” I admit. “But, nice as it sounds, we can’t stay here forever.”

  She sighs. “I know.”

  “What are you gonna tell Dutch?” I ask, already planning my own plea for her hand.

  “The truth,” she says, sitting up. “That I’m wildly in love with you. That I don’t know how to be happy without you.”

  In the absence of her touch, my skin cools instantly, a shiver working its way through me.

  “Hopefully, I can convince him that my happiness is more important than his merger,” she adds, frowning.

  “I’m coming to the club tonight; I’ll talk to him too. Maybe between the two of us…” I can’t count on Dutch to bow to either of our wishes, that much I already know. I keep wondering if there’s something else I can offer him, something I can do to win him to our side. The problem is that I have nothing he wants. He’s holding all the cards.

  We dress slowly, neither of us quite ready to let go of our time together. I try to console myself in the knowledge that despite the situation, it’s not goodbye—not really. Even if Dutch won’t budge, we still have weeks, maybe months, before any wedding might become a reality.

  Wedding.

  The thought of it turns my stomach.

  No, I’ll have to figure something else out. There’s time. Maybe I can cut some kind of deal with Detective Dewey; he seems more reasonable than his counterpart at least.

  We dress slowly, putting ourselves back together as much as we’re able to before closing up the club and heading for the car. The thoughts continue to tumble through my head as Albert drives me home, dropping me off outside my door.

  Throwing caution to the wind, I pull Masie across the seat into a long, slow kiss before I finally release her and exit the car. She presses a hand to the window, and the car speeds off. I barely have time to turn toward my door when O’Hara steps around the corner.

  “A little birdie tells me you’ve climbed up the ranks with the Schultz gang,” he begins, a toothpick gnashed between his teeth. “I gotta admit, I never took you for a mountaineer.”

  I wipe one hand down my face, pulling the door open and beginning the ascent up the stairs to our apartment.

  He follows me, never more than a step behind.

  “So, you’ve had a few weeks, what’ve you got for me, Benny? Because I’ve got something for you.”

  Stopping midstep, I turn. “Whatever you have, I don’t want it.”

  He pulls the toothpick from his mouth, looking affronted. “Is that any way to show your gratitude? Why don’t you invite me in and we’ll chat about it?”

  He follows me up the last flight of stairs and I stop at my front door, pulling out my key.

  “Just keep it down; the twins are sleeping,” I say, stepping inside and holding the door for him to follow. It’s not like I have a choice, clearly.

  “And yer ma’s on shift. I know,” he says, pushing past me and helping himself to a seat at the kitchen table. “I know.”

  I suck in a breath, gritting my teeth. “You’re watching them now too?”

  He leans forward, resting his elbows on the table, then kicks the chair opposite him out for me to take a seat in. “I find it helpful, when dealing with informants, to know exactly where to apply the pressure. Then it hit me.” He snaps his fingers. “You might not be afraid of going back to the big house, but you’d probably do anything to keep your sweet ma outta the clink.”

  I sit, turning the chair backward so my chest is resting against the back. “What are you flapping your gums about? Ma ain’t done nothing wrong.”

  He clicks his teeth together twice, then leans back in his chair. “Not exactly true. Seems she never paid her taxes last year. It’d be a shame if someone brought that to the attention of the special prosecutor. Oh wait, that’s me.”

  “You’re bluffing,” I say, trying to sound more confident than I am.

  After Pa passed she tried to keep up with the finances on her own, but it’s completely possible it’d slipped her grief-ridden mind.

  He raises his hands as if to say, am I though? “If she ended up behind bars, your little brother and sister would probably be hauled off to the city orphanage—seeing as you aren’t legally old enough to care for them.” He wrinkles his nose. “Unpleasant place, that. I doubt little Agatha would get the medical attention she needs from the state doctor.”

  “What do you want?” I manage finally. Whether the accusation is true or not, I realize it doesn’t really matter. He’d just make up whatever he needs to make me pay if I refuse him.

  “What can you offer?” he asks finally, folding his arms across his chest.

  I shake my head. “I haven’t seen the ledger.” Then, I realize that’s not entirely true. “But I have seen a new one, the one for the Canary Club. There’s nothing in it that will help you.”

  He makes a face, wagging his head back and forth. “Not yet, maybe. What else ya got, kid?”

  My mind races. What can I say that won’t endanger Masie and JD? What is the most and least I can offer? And moreover, is there a way to use anything I might know to my advantage?

  “I know that Dutch just inked a deal with the Luciano family. Rothchild brought them together to edge the other families out of their territories.”

  He licks his lips, but says nothing.

  “I know that the Lucianos are going to be using Schultz trucks to bring Indian hop into the city from the west to fill their tea pads.”

  He raps his knuckles on the table. “I need something else, something actionable.”

  “Like what?” I demand, raking my fingers through my hair.

  “How about this—where are they storing the booze for the new club?”

  I swallow. I could lie
and say I don’t know, but it’s such a small thing, a drop in the bucket compared to anything else I could say. And at worst, it puts us behind a day as we shift to take our opening-night supply from one of the other stashes Dutch has all over the city. “It’s not in the club yet. They’re keeping it warehoused down by the 92nd pier, in the old textile plant.”

  He nods once. “Good enough, for now. But what I want is the ledger, so here’s the deal. You make sure it’s in the club on opening night. We’ll set up a raid, and you and your family will be off the hook—so long as I get what I want.”

  Not giving me a chance to respond before standing and rounding the table, he pats me once on the shoulder before he leaves.

  “You made a smart choice, kid. Can’t trust the likes of Dutch Schultz.”

  I snort at the remark. Mostly because I can’t trust anybody—not even the law.

  “You, ah, you got some lipstick on your collar there,” he says, flicking me behind the ear as he heads for the door. “See you opening night, Benny.”

  I should have expected him to be waiting for me in the dark of the living room, but perhaps I was simply too drained, too tired to care. The warmth I’d been able to steal from Benjamin, the pleasure I’d taken from him, had long since faded away, leaving me cold and alone. When Dutch flicks on the lamp beside the chair, I freeze, a deer caught in the headlights of my father’s angry stare.

  “I thought you’d be at the club by now,” I say, dropping my purse on the table near the door.

  He says nothing for a moment, a shiver crawling its way up my back. My guard, who is supposed to be here, is nowhere in sight. No doubt he’s been dismissed for the evening by my father, a fact which makes my heart sink into my stomach. He only dismisses the guards when he doesn’t want any witnesses to his tantrums.

  “Where were you?” he demands finally.

  “The docks. I needed some air.” It’s only partly untrue.

  A bitter comment on his surprise announcement flitters through my mind, but I don’t give voice to it. I know better, I know all too well what it is to be walking on Faberge eggshells.

  He stands, pulling himself to his full height, his jaw set in an angry line. “Get changed. We’re going to the club tonight to make the announcement publicly.”

  “Daddy,” I begin, hesitating as I carefully choose my next words.

  As it turns out, I don’t have a chance to speak. His hand shoots out so fast there’s no way to absorb the blow. His knuckles connect with the side of my face in an earth-shattering collision, sending me sprawling to the floor.

  “You ungrateful little bitch. How dare you embarrass me like that today?” He spits the words, and though he’s gone blurry in my vision, I’m sure he’s shaking with rage. I’ve seen him this angry only once before, right before my mother tried to take her own life.

  A strange mixture of terror and rage flood through me, the emotions competing as I speak.

  “You sold me off like I was nothing. You didn’t even think to ask how I might feel about it. You just offered me up like a cheap watch to a man I’d never even met.” I fight to constrain my tone, to keep the anger from seeping into the words.

  “Everything I’ve done is for you, for this family. This marriage will keep us all safe. I know what’s best for you, I always have.” He shakes his fist in my direction. “And you will be a good girl and do as you’re told.”

  I crawl to my feet, using the armchair beside me to pull myself up. Once I’m standing, I meet his eye, the ache in my face throbbing painfully. “I won’t marry him, Daddy. I’m in love with someone else. If you care about me at all, you won’t make me.”

  Now he waves me off. “You’re a child. What could you possibly know about love? Not that it matters, the deal is made and you will marry who I say. I’ve made up my mind.”

  “I won’t,” I say, finally releasing my full defiance. “I’d rather die.”

  Something flares across his face, an emotion I haven’t seen in some time. My retort is the same one my mother had once uttered, and he hadn’t believed her then. I can only hope he believes me now.

  He takes two giant steps, closing the gap between us before I can move, and seizes me by the throat. He squeezes and I feel the tips of my fingers begin to tingle. Lifting me off my feet, he pulls me in so close we are nose to nose.

  “You think you can defy me?” He laughs in my face. “I doubt your new husband cares what condition he receives you in. He’d probably be just as happy to have you catatonic in a chair like your damn mother!”

  Just as I begin to lose consciousness, he tosses me, like swatting a fly, and I careen back into the door, rattling the knob. I gasp, rolling onto my knees and struggling to draw air in through a neck that feels like it might be broken.

  I don’t see him approach again. I only feel the swift kick, the tip of his shoe connecting with my ribs, sending me flying again, this time across the parquet floor. Pain explodes through my middle. Each cough is like hot coals in my lungs and throat.

  Still, he continues to rage, grasping the table and flipping it, the vase of flowers it’d held shattering to the floor with a crash.

  I want to beg him to stop, but I can’t speak, can’t force sounds through my injured throat. Desperately, I hold up a hand in surrender. Finally, he stands over me, his face red, panting with effort.

  “Why do you make me hurt you like this? Just like your mother. Why can’t you just do what I tell you? I am your father, and you will respect me.”

  I shake my head; it’s all I can do. My final act of defiance. Respect is earned, not given. If I could shout the words, I would. But I can’t. Not now, maybe not ever again.

  He waves his hand through the air. “Look at all this. People would kill to live so well. Do you have any idea how lucky you are? How much you owe me?” He pauses, his eyes settling on my face. I’m not sure what he sees, but whatever it is, it’s enough to stem the flow of his rage. “Whoever this boy is you’re so infatuated with, forget him. You have a job to do for this family…and you will do it,” he says finally, straightening his tie. “Family is all that matters, Masie. We’re all you have and all you can count on.”

  “Sir,” Butler interrupts from the kitchen door. “Your car has arrived.”

  Daddy nods, looking back down at me. “Well, you can’t go anywhere looking like that. You stay here, get yourself cleaned up. I’ll make the announcement without you. If anyone asks, I’ll tell them you wanted to come but fell ill. Do not leave this apartment. So help me, if you try anything stupid, I’ll lock you in your room until the wedding.”

  With those final words, he disappears out the front door. As soon as he’s gone, Butler rushes to my aid, lifting me into his lap. “Miss, do I need to fetch a doctor?”

  I shake my head, wincing at the pain the gesture brings. “Get Benjamin,” I whisper hoarsely.

  I’ve barely been home an hour when a knock at the door draws me from the bathroom where I’m shaving my face. I wipe my hands on the white towel, then sling it over one shoulder as I make my way to answer it, silently praying it’s not O’Hara or his partner.

  To my surprise, it’s Albert, Masie’s driver, standing in my hallway, his hat in his hands.

  “Sir,” he says formally. I wave him in.

  “What is it, Albert?”

  Once inside, he hands me a folded letter. I open it and scan it quickly.

  Dear Sir,

  * * *

  Miss Masie requests your presence at her home, as soon as possible. Please use the staff entrance in the rear of the building. Albert will show you the way.

  * * *

  Sincerely,

  Rudy

  “What’s this all about?” I ask, earning me a frown.

  Nothing good, that’s what his expression says.

  Wiping the last of the soap off my chin, I throw on a shirt and jacket and we’re out the door. I can’t help but notice that Albert is driving unusually fast, weaving in and out of traffic so q
uickly it makes my stomach flip.

  When we arrive, he pulls the car into a lot beneath the next building over rather than parking on the street. He leads me up a back staircase and into an elevator not nearly as nice as the one that accesses the front door. As soon as we hit the top floor, he pulls the rusty cage upward, and we come face to face with Rudy, who’s holding the rear door open. Stepping through, I realize I’m in the servant’s wing of the house, on the other side of the kitchen.

  “What’s happening?” I demand, obeying when Rudy waves for me to follow. Albert vanishes back down the other direction.

  “There’s been an incident,” he says flatly. “I’m afraid Miss Masie is badly injured.”

  I brush past him, running flat out until I reach her room. Throwing her door open, I find her, curled on her side on the fluffy white rug. The side of her face is swollen, her lip cut and bleeding.

  “Masie,” I say, dropping to my knees beside her. She lets out a small, pained sound as I lift her into my lap.

  “What happened?”

  She blinks up at me, tears shining in her eyes, then nods toward Rudy in the doorway.

  “I’m afraid she can’t speak. She got into a rather nasty altercation with her father.”

  My heart pounds painfully in my chest. “Dutch did this?” I don’t mean to say it out loud, but she closes her eyes and nods.

  The guilt that washes over me is like the Hudson in winter, chilling me down to the marrow of my bones. This is my fault, I realize. I never should have left her to talk to him alone. I should have done it myself, somewhere public where he couldn’t lash out.

  I should have kept her safe.

  Then another feeling takes hold, this one slowly warming me, first thawing the blood in my veins, then heating it until it feels as if it’s boiling beneath my skin.

  I’ll kill him.

  For this, for what he’s done, I will rip him apart with my bare hands.

  Masie makes another small, strangled sound, cupping the side of my face in her hand. The only thing keeping me from going after the old man right now is the feel of her in my hands, fragile and broken.