We didn’t open that night. When Baby and I finally stumbled downstairs, the rest of the crew was looking lost. No one felt like making merry. Lots of regulars stopped by and banged on the door, but none of us felt like opening up. We sat around a few tables in the middle of the speakeasy, lights turned low, drinks all around, and didn’t say a whole hell of a lot.
Joe had been a good guy. He’d fallen into the wrong crowd when he was young, did some time. He learned all he could when he’d gone in the pen, used all his skills to fuck over anyone he could. Lucky for him he tried scamming me. Not only did I beat him soundly for it, I gave him a goddamn job.
He’d known the risks. Everyone in this crazy-ass life knows the risks. If it hadn’t been Charlotte, it would have been something else. Gangsters didn’t give a shit who they had to kill if that person was in their way.
Right now, I was in the way.
Charlotte sat on my lap and I had a hand around her waist. No one seemed surprised. I had nearly fucking peed on her to prove she was mine, after all. There wasn’t a person in our circle that would argue that she belonged to me. For some reason, this ball of light had settled in our small circle and made herself at home.
Marty was telling a story about Joe, a drunk Joe, from the early days of Prohibition, when I saw Two lift his head. He looked over toward the front door with a perplexed look. Then One did the same thing. A prickly sense of unease shifted over me. I saw headlights burn through our windows, illuminating as much of the interior as possible.
“Get down!” I shouted.
We all hit the floor, every man covering a woman. Bullets peppered the walls, the windows, the doors. Liquor bottles exploded, an oil lamp splintered. Deats got up and ran over to stop the spread of fire. He dropped his jacket onto the fire and stomped, then hid behind the bar to avoid getting shot.
I was half on top of Baby, her dress yanked up her legs. Not the time to think about it, but my fucking dick knew it was resting right on her ass and he came straight to attention. Little bastard. I held my head down, like everyone else, and took the opportunity to grind into Charlotte’s ass. Because I’m an asshole.
The sirens started and the headlights churned backward, away from our establishment. Dottie jumped to her feet immediately and raced to the back stairs. Her boy was in his room and no doubt terrified. Marty ran after her.
The rest of us remained where we were.
Another attack on us so soon after Joe’s death meant only one thing. While killing Joe had been a warning, we hadn’t moved fast enough to give Capone what he wanted.
I pulled Charlotte’s hair back from over her ear and leaned over her. “You okay?” I whispered.
She nodded and gave me a tremulous smile.
I got to my feet and helped her up. Fern was already helping Deats clean up the remains of the small fire that had broken out. Mick, One and Two were rushing around trying to hide whatever the cops would love to find.
I just stood there, holding Charlotte’s hand.
This was no place for her. I kissed her forehead softly. “Go check on Dottie, yeah? I’ll deal with the cops.”
Her hand came up to lie on my chest. “You sure?”
“Yeah, Baby, go make sure that kid of hers is all right.”
She skirted broken glass and disappeared up the stairs. Fern gave me a hard look but didn’t say anything. It was Mick who said it.
“She’s gotta go, Angelo.”
Like I didn’t know that. Like I didn’t know that those Tommy guns were meant to kill us all, including her. Capone knew she was with me, which meant he knew I probably had had her, which meant I’d taken something from him twice over. If I didn’t hand her over, he’d kill us all. I couldn’t let that happen.
“Yeah,” I said softly. “I know.”
“She’s a good girl,” Fern told me. “She doesn’t belong here.”
“Yeah,” I said, a little harder than before. “I know.”
The police sirens stopped right outside the building. Soon footsteps would be pounding down those stairs, busting through into the speakeasy. Cops had looked the other way for so long. I’d taken care of Dottie and her kid, I’d paid the right people, but there was no way they could overlook the building being shot up and potential innocent victims.
“Fern, get upstairs. One and Two, you go, too. Just me and Mick’ll take the heat.”
“Angelo—” Fern began.
“Go,” I said again. “Someone’s gotta bail us out.”
My cover wasn’t blown, but I sure as fuck had overstayed my welcome in Chicago.