SpeakeasySweetheart (5 page)

Blaze was tempted to tickle Sasha senseless after what she’d
put him through earlier. He loved having her underneath him, helpless to do
anything but receive pleasure. He’d tasted her thoroughly, gently holding her
down when she just couldn’t stay still.

He never knew what she was going to say or do next. Her
tough exterior belied a surprisingly tender soul within. Blaze suspected she’d
been hurt one too many times in her life. He resolved to do a better job taking
care of her, even if it meant spending a little less time on business and a
little more on pleasure.

He was certainly on the right track at the moment.

Freeing her wrists, Blaze tossed the belt aside. Her hands
immediately looped around his neck, pulling him atop her.

Blaze grinned. “What do you want, honey?”

“You.”

His grin widened. The girl went all coy during sex. He got
the impression she was used to a quick fuck, no bells or whistles, probably in
the dark. Well, now that she was with him her horizons would have to broaden.

“I’m right here. What else do you want?”

Her cheeks reddened. “Um. You, inside me?”

Blaze was nothing if not obliging. With one quick thrust he
obeyed her request—even if she’d mumbled the words.

She stoked him up so fast, so hot, that he had a difficult
time hanging on to his self-control. He could hardly get enough of her, already
mentally picturing her in different positions, in different places throughout
the apartment. And once summer was here, he’d drive her to the beach and he’d
make love to her on the sand.

Sasha raised her legs, wrapping them around his waist as he
drove harder, faster, thrusting into her as if the world were going to end.
Soon she was gasping, ready to climax for him all over again.

Just as she let out her first cry, Blaze lost all control.
He dropped his forehead to her bare shoulder as the waves of pleasure hit him
deep. God, she was incredible. Nobody else made him feel this way, had ever
caused him to fall so hard so fast.

The fact that Vincent Cornell was also after his girl just
made Blaze more determined to hold on to her.
Bellissima
, Giuseppa had
said. Blaze absolutely agreed.

He’d seen the girls in Cornell’s club. Most of them were
desperate for money, selling their bodies while Cornell reaped the profits.
Many were tarnished creatures, shackled to Cornell by dint of the man’s
fearsome temper. Cornell murdered without compunction, on the road to becoming
a crime boss.

Blaze looked down at the beautiful woman he was cradling in
his arms. He felt fortunate to have gained her trust, maybe even her love. He
was very much enjoying being both a teacher of and a pupil to her body,
figuring out what turned her on and pushing her to try new things.

“Where are you from?” he asked. Not around here—she didn’t
know the city very well at all. Especially if she’d walked right into Cornell’s
goddamn speakeasy.

“Maine.”

“Huh. Your grandparents moved pretty far north after
emigrating…or was it your great-grandparents?”

“My…” She paused, her delicate nose wrinkling as she
thought. “I think my father’s side of the family was from Belfast and came over
just after the potato famine.”

“My grandfather came out of Dublin. Could hardly understand
his accent when he was drunk.”

Sasha tensed. “Do you drink much?”

“I like an occasional drink as much as the next man. Downing
a bottle of gin a day isn’t my style. Prohibition makes it cursed expensive
anyway.”

He brushed a caress across the smooth skin of her shoulders
as she relaxed against him. “My dad was an alcoholic.”

Was? “Is he dead? Is that why you’re all alone in the big
city?”

She nodded. “I came here unexpectedly. Someone I knew said
there could be opportunities for me. I didn’t expect to get involved in crazy
problems right away.”

“I’m not that crazy.”

“As we discussed earlier, you’re a
big
problem. Not a
crazy one.” She hesitated. “I’m not a problem for you, am I?”

“No, baby. I’m sorry if I gave you that impression.”

“Well, I know your priority is going after Cornell—”

“And protecting you from the bastard.”

“Can’t you just tell the police what he did?”

Blaze laughed hollowly. “No. Sean was bootlegging. Cops
probably figure Cornell did them a favor by getting rid of another alcohol
smuggler. The worst part…”

She waited him out, not pressuring him as he stared out the
window. She deserved the whole truth, not just a partial explanation. Blaze
took a deep breath.

“
I
was supposed to do the run, not Sean. But I was
sick that night. By rights, I should be the dead one. It wasn’t even his idea
anyway.” Bitterness choked him, almost as strong as the day his brother had
been shot.

“You were a bootlegger?” Sasha asked.

“For a year or so, yes. My entire family lived in a Hell’s
Kitchen slum. We had to get out somehow. I heard about what Capone was doing in
Chicago and decided to get a piece for myself…at least temporarily. We put the
profits into creating a restaurant business.”

“You’re no Al Capone.” Sasha studied him intently. “You’re
not ruthless enough.”

“I’m only ruthless when it comes to Cornell.”
And you
.
He barely kept himself from saying that last part out loud.

Her stomach growled, lightening the mood somewhat. She
looked down, chagrined. “Did you say you bought us some bagels and cream
cheese?”

“Hell, baby. Why didn’t you tell me you were so hungry?”

“I could stand to lose some weight.” She pinched her
stomach. “I’m no movie star.”

“You look like a normal woman. A beautiful woman. What did
you eat today?”

“I had some garlic bread, and the couple I worked for gave
me some tea to drink.”

Blaze was already up, slicing the bagels he’d bought earlier
and spreading them liberally with cream cheese. She followed him to the table.
“Tell me about the job,” he commanded.

“It’s an ad hoc arrangement. They want someone to assist
with bookkeeping and understanding the occasional letter written in English.
I’m going in next week to organize their records.”

“You speak their language?”

Sasha giggled around a bite of bagel. Swallowing, she said,
“No. I can’t speak a word of Yiddish. They just need someone patient enough to
speak
really
slowly to them, with lots of hand gestures. They’re new to
the city and their only son is busy studying.”

Blaze watched her as she ate. Despite his earlier worry, he
was proud of her for having the gumption to go out and look for a job. The fact
that she’d actually found one—even if it was temporary—increased his
admiration. He liked a woman who occasionally seized the initiative, even if he
wasn’t about to let her out of his sight anytime soon. He had already canceled
tomorrow’s plans, opening up the entire day to spend with Sasha. Dougal would
understand. Hell, Dougal would probably cheer him on.

“What do you want to do tomorrow?” Blaze asked.

“I have fifty cents. Is that enough to go to Coney Island?”

“You don’t have to spend your own money,” Blaze said
roughly. “I’m happy to take you if it’s what you really want to do.”

“Yes.” She smiled at him. “It’s been a long time since I
went somewhere just for the sake of fun.”

Blaze knew exactly what she meant. He hadn’t done “fun” for
years. He only hoped that throwing caution to the wind didn’t mean Cornell got
the drop on him—on both of them.

* * * * *

Coney Island. Sasha sensed Blaze’s excitement, even if he
pretended otherwise. He whistled a jaunty tune as he walked in with a bag of
fresh bagels. This time he brought lox.

Sasha rolled her eyes as he brandished the bag suggestively.
“If I eat lox off you now, we’ll be stuck in bed half the morning.”

“Only half?” He sat down and began parceling out the food.
His boyish good humor made her smile. Although he wasn’t moody, she’d never
seen him this cheerful.

“I suppose we could experiment with tying
you
up,”
Sasha said.

He smirked. “Not going to happen, honey. Do you want your
bagel sliced in half? We can eat it on the go. Oh—I bought you a new coat. The
ocean breeze can be a bit nippy.”

She couldn’t help but smile. Being fussed over was a
pleasant change from doing everything on her own. She shrugged into the new
coat, glad of its warmth when they opened the door and stepped into the chilly
breeze. Sasha tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow as they walked down
the street, munching bagels as they went. “Is Coney Island a long way away?”

“Nah. There’s a new subway that will take us there. Been a while
since I visited, though. I hear some things have changed.”

Sasha gave herself free rein to look around as they
continued onward. When they reached the subway, it seemed slow compared to
modern busses, but the ambiance was just as busy as she remembered. People
hurried to get on and off, clutching newspapers and bags. She tucked her hand
into Blaze’s pocket as they rode, content to snuggle against him.

Living in a city wouldn’t be so bad if she lived with Blaze.
For that matter, she thought she could cope with existing in the Jazz Age. The
creature comforts were still here, just slightly more primitive. And nobody
preferred rap music over the blues.

Besides, what would she miss about her former life? She’d
tried hard to get help for her father, but he refused to even think about
joining a twelve-step program. Sasha couldn’t help him if he didn’t help
himself.

“What are you thinking about?”

Sasha hesitated, wondering whether to gloss over the
sensitive topic. No, Blaze didn’t deserve any prevarication. If she wanted the
truth from him, she’d have to ante up, set an example for him.

“I was thinking about my dad.”

Something in the way his expression relaxed told her she’d
done the right thing by telling the truth. “You missing him?”

“I miss what he could have been, I guess.”

A nod. “Yeah, I think that about Sean sometimes. What he’d
be like today…if he would have children. That was supposed to be our last
bootleg run. What happened to your mother? Is she still around?”

“She died in a crash after walking out on my dad.” An
airplane crash, actually. She’d become a flight attendant, leaving Sasha at
home under the pretense that school would keep her more or less stable. Looking
back, she couldn’t really blame her mother for leaving her increasingly alcoholic
father. But it didn’t make her death any easier.

Her death had left Sasha terrified of flying. Not as if her
phobia would trouble her in this day and age, of course. “What about your
parents?” she asked Blaze.

“They live a few blocks down from Dougal. I’m surprised we
didn’t run into them on Saturday.”

His tone was noncommittal. He was the eighth son, wasn’t he?
She wondered suddenly if his parents blamed Blaze for his brother’s death. That
would be unfair. Blaze was his own worst critic, holding himself accountable
all these years. And his brother and sister-in-law had seemed welcoming enough.

Sasha had no siblings. Was that part of her apathy toward
returning to her own time? Apart from her father she possessed a few aging
cousins and an elderly great-aunt. She doubted anyone would miss sending her
the annual Christmas card.

If, that is, she continued to exist at
all
in the twenty-first
century. The thought gave her pause. Should she decide to stay here, would an
entirely different child be born to her parents in the future?

What if Blaze had managed to get
her
pregnant
somehow, despite the condoms? What would she do then? Stay or go?

Blaze stepped sideways, dislodging her grip on his pocket.
He immediately enveloped her hand in his own. “We’re here.”

Thankful to have
that
thought process interrupted,
Sasha followed Blaze as he led her off the train. His eyes lit up as they
emerged into the sunlight. “Boy, this place has changed. Lots of people here
even on a Monday.”

Despite the crisp edge of the early fall weather, there were
a fair amount of people indulging in Coney Island’s offerings. Couples strolled
along the boardwalk, teenagers played games, and a few hardy souls splashed
knee-deep at the edge of the surf. Blaze stood still for a moment, seeming to
digest the sights with evident satisfaction. She wondered how long it had been
since he’d last been here.

“I have money to go on rides
and
buy hotdogs this
time,” he said half under his breath.

“You’re welcome to one, but don’t sit next to me on the
roller coaster afterward,” Sasha told him.

He grinned. “I’m not letting you sit next to anyone else,
baby. Let’s go. We can eat later.”

Carried along by his enthusiasm, Sasha followed as he led
the way past eateries and amusement stalls. She gulped. He
was
going for
a roller coaster.

“I remember when this one was built,” Blaze said, looking up
at the soaring tracks. “I always wanted to ride it. But I never had a spare
quarter for the admission.”

Sasha eyed the contraption skeptically, noting the large
dips and hills. “Are you sure it’s safe?”

“You asked the same about my Cadillac. Are you so worried
about my behavior?” Blaze asked innocently.

Sasha coughed. “I think we’d better try to keep our hands to
ourselves in that thing.”

Blaze paid the admission fee and they walked toward the giant
coaster. Along with a few others, they piled into the small cars. Sasha gasped
as the ride jerked forward.

“Are you scared?” Blaze asked.

“Maybe. Okay, yes. I’m terrified.”

In high school, all the popular girls rode the scary rides
with their boyfriends
du jour
. Sasha had never run with that group, so
she’d simply avoided going on anything more strenuous than a carousel or the
bumper cars. Those, at least, hadn’t required a partner.