SpeakeasySweetheart (6 page)

“I’ll hold you tight,” Blaze promised.

As they ascended the first hill, the cars rattling and
juddering, Sasha felt some of her earlier worry leave her. She’d never done
anything like this before. The wind from the ocean blew her hair into hopeless
tangles. The stress about her growing attraction to Blaze, the fear that Cornell
was after her, all of it went away as she was faced with the imminent arrival
of the track’s peak.

The car reached the top, giving them a brief view of the
island. Then they rolled forward and she could only focus on the track ahead.
Sasha shrieked as her stomach dropped, clutching Blaze’s hand ferociously.

As the coaster slowed and began climbing the next hill, she
realized she was actually looking forward to the next breathless rush. Next to
her, Blaze was laughing, the first time she’d ever heard him do so.

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” he asked as they finally
disembarked.

“No,” Sasha agreed, taking his hand again. She blinked,
surprised at her own response. Usually she’d have said something sarcastic. But
Blaze deserved honesty from her.

Which probably meant she’d have to tell him about the door
at some point and hope that he believed her. She grasped his hand tighter,
responding to the unspoken fear that she might lose him. Fuck, she really was
becoming attached to him, despite the surreal situation.

At least she knew for certain he wasn’t her great-great-uncle
or something. Despite his shortcomings, Dad had taken the time to laboriously
piece together their family history. There wasn’t an O’Rourke on either side of
her tree.

Sasha stared at the old—
current
, she corrected
herself—advertisements plastered around. Salted peanuts, some brand of safety
razors she’d never heard of, cigarettes. All of it seemed less intrusive than
modern ads, especially the ones that jumped out unexpectedly from websites. She
could get used to this.

As they walked down Surf Avenue, Sasha thought she had never
felt so alive in her entire life. She and Blaze wandered around, spending
nickels here and there to play games. She seemed to have a natural knack for
skeeball; he preferred shooting. Finally, worn out from laughing, winning
prizes and seeing the sights, they sat down to eat hot dogs together at
Nathan’s.

“Sean used to love these hot dogs.” Blaze stared into the
distance. “I can’t believe they opened up the beach and a boardwalk since I was
here last.”

“Did you two come to Coney Island often?”

“We made it here every month in the high season. We saved up
any extra money we got from shining shoes. Didn’t buy us very much, but we
could generally afford a hot dog and sometimes one cheap ride.”

How different their childhoods had been, Sasha mused. Maybe
it was true what they said about opposites attracting. She finished her last
bite of hot dog and took a sip of root beer. “What’s it like here at night?”

“We’re going to be leaving way before sunset, baby,” Blaze
said quickly.

She looked sidelong at his profile. He was still worried
about Cornell, wasn’t he? “I really don’t think—” she began.

“I’m not risking your safety.” His tone brooked no argument.

“Surely Cornell won’t be here,” Sasha said. She was
beginning to regret the change of topic.

“The man has killed three singers and I’ll not have you be
the fourth.” Blaze turned to regard her, some of his sternness evaporating in a
brief smile. “Even if you do have mustard on your nose.”

Mortified, Sasha clapped a napkin to her face. She was
relieved when Blaze leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. “Don’t worry,
you’re still gorgeous.”

“Do you think so?” Damn, she was totally losing her
sarcastic edge, leaving herself open for pain.

“Yes, sweetheart. You’re just my type.”

She released the breath she barely knew she was holding.
Carefully, she scrubbed her nose clean and wadded up the napkin. “Before we leave,
I’ll just visit the, um—”
What did they call bathrooms in the twenties?
“The facilities across the road.”

“I’ll walk you over.”

Sasha supposed she was lucky he didn’t insist upon coming
inside with her. She hurried into the bathroom. As she was washing her hands,
she spotted someone behind her.

“Louella?”

The blonde waved. “You’re the singer from Friday night!”

“That’s me.” In the mirror, Sasha studied Louella’s face.
Her hair was lank and her face drawn. She didn’t look as if she was here to
enjoy herself. There was a slight familiarity about her, something about the
shape of her face, that reminded her of…who?

“What are you doing on Coney Island?” Sasha asked, aware
that she was staring a bit too hard.

Louella grimaced. “I’m sorry. It was either follow you or
stand out in the cold looking for johns.”

Two men emerged from behind the door, moving silently and
quickly. Before she could attempt to flee, one of them pressed a cloth to her
nose and mouth.

Sasha inadvertently took a deep breath, almost choking as
she kicked wildly. The room spun, everything blending together. She tried to
cry out but the sound was quickly muffled.

Everything turned black.

Blaze hadn’t expected to so thoroughly enjoy himself on
Coney Island. He’d anticipated painful memories of Sean to haunt him around
every corner. But with Sasha at his side, joy was beginning to return to his
life. The fact that he could afford unlimited rides, games and hot dogs was the
icing on the cake.

He should buy something for his nephew. The delight on the
little boy’s face would outweigh the annoyance of Dougal’s inevitable gloating.
His older brother seemed to have made it a mission in life to get Blaze to do
frivolous things again. Dougal heartily disapproved of Blaze’s contacts in the
underworld, his relentless stalking of Cornell.

His parents did as well. They wanted him to let things be.
They didn’t understand that he just couldn’t do that. Of course he understood
that giving justice to Cornell wouldn’t bring his brother back. But it would
sure put his mind at ease.

Especially now that Sasha was a target.

He frowned. She was taking a long time in there. He glanced
at the clock. He’d give her the better part of a minute, and then he would go
inside, social mores be damned.

Counting under his breath, he opened the door to the female
side of the restrooms. A woman standing at the sinks gaped at him.

“Did you see a young lady in here?” he demanded. “Dark-red
hair, medium height.”

“Th-the men were taking someone like that out the back door.
She was hurt, they said.”

A litany of curses flooded his mind. Not one left his lips.
He was too busy conserving breath to pursue his woman.

Blaze sprinted down the hallway, bursting out into a side
street. His heart hammered in terror—had he lost her? He knew Cornell would
have no qualms about killing her.

When he had first begun pursuing Cornell after Sean’s death,
Blaze had thought to turn the man in to the police. People called him crazy for
going after the untouchable Cornell, the man rich enough to pay off the cops
and smart enough not to provoke them very far.

He berated himself for not being ruthless enough. He should
have gunned Cornell down in cold blood instead of wasting time gathering
evidence. Blaze made an inarticulate sound of fury, looking up and down the
alley. Where was she?

A flash of movement caught his attention, and he was off
again, running flat out in the direction of Surf Avenue. This was no time to
doubt himself, no time for second guesses.

There!
He caught a glimpse of Sasha’s auburn hair as
her head lolled worryingly in the back of a dark green coupe. The engine roared
into life as the driver scrambled into the front seat.

What had they done to her? Where were they taking her?

Blaze yanked open the door of a nearby cab. “Follow that
Pierce-Arrow,” he snarled. “The green one.”

The driver nodded, taking in Blaze’s general appearance with
a judicious eye. Evidently deciding his passenger could afford the fare, he
merged into traffic.

“Do it discreetly if possible,” Blaze ordered.

Gripping the seat, he stared out the window from underneath
the brim of his fedora, keeping the hat tilted at a slight angle. If her
captors looked back, he didn’t want them to recognize him. In front, the driver
wisely remained silent, concentrating on navigating his way through traffic.

I can’t lose her
.

The words became a mantra in time to the chug of the cab’s
engine. His gaze fixed hungrily on the top of Sasha’s head. Propped in the
backseat between two people he didn’t recognize, she remained unmoving.

Would her captors notice the cab on their tail? By the time
they reached the Brooklyn Bridge, the cab driver had dropped back several cars.
They continued on into Manhattan, in the direction of Hell’s Kitchen, and Blaze
began to think he might know where they were going.

Just in time too.

“Lost him,” the driver said crisply. “Sorry about that.”

“Turn left.” Blaze’s voice came out cooler than he thought
it might. He wanted to tear everything apart with his bare hands until he got
his Sasha back.

“Now hang a right,” he snapped.

“It’s a dead end—”

But Blaze was already thrusting a handful of cash at the
driver. Flinging the cab door open, he charged down the side road, praying his
instincts had led him to the right spot.

Sasha was vaguely cognizant that she was in a moving car.
Going somewhere, but where? Where was Blaze?

“She’s coming to.” The male voice was too harsh to belong to
Blaze.

Sasha kept herself limp, forcing herself to stay as still as
possible, even when the car lurched around a corner.

“No she’s not.” Louella’s voice.

She shouldn’t feel so betrayed by Louella, Sasha told
herself. The blonde only knew her as a random singer. They’d met for five
minutes backstage. Besides, if she hadn’t taken Sasha’s arm and led her toward
the stage, she would probably have walked back through the door.

Away from Blaze.

Away from this splendid, crazy, unforgettable adventure.

And back to—what? Her alcoholic father and a menial job?
Months spent pining for her ex?

Sasha truly wanted to stay here.
Well
, she amended,
not
here
, here.
In the Jazz Age with Blaze. She just needed to find some
way to escape this car first.

“Hurry up. I don’t want this dame coming ’round on the
streets. Pull down the next street and we’ll go through the back.” The man
spoke again.

“The things we do for Cornell.” A second male voice. The
driver? Sasha didn’t dare open her eyes.

“We have to. We’re in debt to him and
he’s
in debt
to—”

“Shut your hole, Louella.” The voice from the front seat
spoke again. “Get the spy out of the car and inside. I want my goddamn money.”

The spy? Fuck, they meant
her
. Sasha tried not to
flinch as she was unceremoniously manhandled out of the car. Slitting her eyes
open, all she saw was bare pavement and…oh God, was that Cornell’s speakeasy
she was being carried into?

“Cops did a number on this place,” Louella said in disgust.

“I heard a rumor they were supposed to rumble O’Rourke. That
Cornell paid them for the raid.”

“Yeah, well, you know where he’s gettin’ the money from?”
Louella dropped her voice. “I heard he borrowed heavily from Lucky Luciano.”

“No kidding? He’s dead meat if he can’t pay it back.”

“I know, but he’s gone really strange lately—”

“Shh,” hissed the man.

Sasha risked opening one eye. Somewhere, a door opened, then
closed. Should she make a break for it?

“Set her down and tie her wrists together,” said a new
voice. Cornell?

“She’s unconscious,” said the man holding her.

“No she’s not. The chloroform will have worn off ages ago.”

Busted
. Sasha drove her fist into her captor’s gut,
twisting away as she fell. She was in the main part of the speakeasy, right
about where Blaze had been sitting the first time she’d seen him. Taking
advantage of her captor’s momentary surprise, she leaped onto the stage,
clawing at the curtain frantically.

If she could get backstage, back to the dressing room, she
could escape through the door.

But what if I can’t come back again?

Cold dread pierced her heart. She couldn’t go through with
it. Not if it meant never seeing Blaze again.

Sasha whirled to face her pursuers. Louella looked stricken,
but the male grabbed her roughly, looping a length of rope around her wrists.
“How tight do you want it, boss?”

“Tight as you like. She’s not long for the world.” The man
who had to be Cornell himself strolled into view, eyeing Sasha appraisingly. He
was slimmer and shorter than she expected, his tan fedora set atop a receding
hairline.

Louella made a small noise of protest. “You really going to
kill her, boss? I thought you only wanted to question her.”

“Shut up.” Cornell flicked his fingers at her. “Go find a
street corner to stand on.”

“But you said my debt was cleared—”

“Get lost.” Cornell whirled, his coat flipping up to reveal
a short-nose revolver tucked into his waistband. With casual brutality, he
struck Louella across the face. “Don’t come into my club if you’re going to
give me lip.”

“
You
owe
me
money,” Louella muttered, but she
was already heading to the door, followed by the other man.

“Where are you taking me?” Sasha asked. She met Cornell’s
gaze, trying not to show fear.

“I thought we might go admire the view from the roof. It’s
five stories up.” Cornell’s hand caressed the hilt of his gun meaningfully.

Sasha started walking, staying just ahead of him as they
ascended a narrow staircase. Every nerve was jangling, demanding she run. But
there was nowhere to go but up—unless she wanted to die with a bullet in her
chest.

“What’s on the second floor?” she asked. Maybe it was best
to keep the man talking, try to stall things a bit.

“You know very well what’s on the second floor, bitch.
You’re a spy, remember?”

Okay, keeping him talking was clearly a mistake. Sasha shut
her mouth, keeping her eyes peeled for escape opportunities.

“The third floor is where my whores live. Diversity is good
for business. Did you tell O’Rourke how well I’m doing?”

“I don’t work for Blaze.”

Cornell’s chuckle was nasty. “I don’t care who you work for.
Police, O’Rourke, some dimwit
capo
, Lucky Luciano, or hell, Capone
himself. You bleed red like the rest of them.”

“Like the rest of who? The other singers you murdered?”

“Yes.” Cornell sounded pleased with her, as if she were a
student and he the teacher. “Do you know how I killed them?”

“No, but I’m sure you’ll enlighten me.”

“Two died in bed with me. I shot the other one when she
tried to run.” Cornell sighed. “What a wasted death. She would have screamed so
lusciously. I hope to redeem myself with you.”

The stairs came to an abrupt halt. Sasha stood uncertainly
as Cornell reached past her to unlock the door barring their way. Sunlight
flooded in, temporarily blinding her.

If I’m blinded, so is he.

Sasha lashed out with her foot, catching Cornell just above
the knee. It was a move her self-defense instructor would have wildly applauded
had Sasha ever managed to pull it off in class. Maybe she’d just needed a
little extra encouragement. Such as literal blind panic.

Cornell was down, but not out. He grabbed her as she leaped
back into the dark stairwell, throwing her bodily onto the flat roof. With her
hands tied together, Sasha fell heavily, rolling in an attempt to recover a
standing position.

She never made it. Cornell moved too quickly, his foot
descending upon her chest to hold her painfully immobile.

“Nice try, bitch.” His eyes, adjusted to the sunlight now,
roved across her body. “You’ve got a nice pair of tits as well. Has Blaze
fucked them?”

The difference between the two men couldn’t have been more
marked. Even though he’d kidnapped her, Sasha had known instinctively that
Blaze wouldn’t hurt her. Cornell, on the other hand, gave off an immediate,
sinister vibe that chilled her all the way to the bone.

“Get up.” He kicked her, laughing as she doubled over in
pain. She scrambled backward, away from his foot.

“
Help!
” The scream left her throat raw. It wasn’t
likely anyone would hear her all the way up here, but she had to try.

Cornell lunged again. “Shut up before I shoot you in the
head.”

“Is that the way you plan to kill me?” She couldn’t help but
ask the question. There had to be some way to escape, some way out of this
situation.

“If I shoot, the sound might bring the cops running. You’re
going off the roof.” Cornell smiled and she knew he was beyond redemption. The
guy was stone crazy. Sasha’s fear knifed deeper into her gut. Cornell was more
than capable of shoving her to her death.

She risked a glance over her shoulder. The edge was too near
for comfort. And it was a long way down.

“I always wanted to see a beautiful woman fall,” Cornell
went on conversationally. He stepped toward her, arm outstretched. “Come along
now. I’m due for a business talk with a
capo
this evening and I don’t
want to be late.”

Sasha screamed again as Cornell reached out, yanking the
rope that bound her wrists. Stumbling to her feet, she tried another kick to the
knee but Cornell easily sidestepped the attempt. One side of his mouth lifted
in a sneer.

“Let go of her.”

Abject surprise wiped away Cornell’s sneer. He glared toward
the door. “O’Rourke.”

“Blaze, he has a gun.” Sasha’s voice trembled and cracked.
Great, now that Blaze was here she went all damsel in distress. Yet she
couldn’t take her eyes off him. She was half afraid he was an illusion,
something her terrified brain had dreamed up to make this crazy situation a
little more tolerable.

“So shoot me, Cornell.” Blaze stepped forward, his fury
almost palpable. “Shoot me like you shot Sean, in cold blood.”

He was rapidly closing the distance between them. Cornell
hesitated and Sasha immediately saw why—if he drew his revolver he would have
to let go of her. When the smirk returned to Cornell’s face, she knew she was
in trouble.

“Catch!”

Cornell shoved her with both hands. All she could see was
the sky as she stumbled backward, unable to stop herself, incapable of the
slightest noise. Her foot stepped into nothingness and for a sickening instant
she was free-falling.

Blaze caught her by the wrists, nearly jerking her arms from
her sockets. He crouched over the roof’s edge, panting hard, eyes wide with
horror.

“Easy, baby. Gonna try to pull you up.”

Despite her legs shaking, Sasha was able to brace herself
against the wall as Blaze hoisted her back to the rooftop. The rope chafed her
bound wrists painfully but she gritted her teeth and bore it, determined to
return to safety.