Breathing hard, he jogged up to the door and tested the knob, glancing at the crooked “Closed” sign displayed in the window. Good girl, he thought when the lock wouldn’t budge, then quickly loped around the corner to the back of the diner.
A merge of shadows and moonlight cast an eerie glow throughout the alley, distorting trashcans heaped high with refuse. Suddenly he saw that the back door was ajar, and fear coiled in his stomach like a snake about to strike. He eased it open.
“Bets? Are you here?” Scanning the dimly lit kitchen, his gaze darted from the polished steel refrigerators to the sink piled high with a shift’s worth of dishes. His heart hammered in his chest, and he raised his voice, as sharp and edgy as the stainless steel knives Pop kept in the drawer. “Bets! Are you here?”
“Back here . . .” Muffled words drifted from the storage room.
He bolted to Pop’s pantry and froze, his stomach constricting at the sight of Betty huddled in the corner, head bent and arms wound around her knees. He rushed to kneel beside her and touched her hair, his voice steady, but his palm shaking. “Bets, what happened? Are you all right?”
She started to cry and he slid to the floor and pulled her into his arms. “Tell me what happened,” he whispered.
A shiver rippled through her, and she clutched him tightly as her heaves shuddered against his chest. “L-Leo w-was here.”
His blood slowed to a crawl. “When?”
“R-right b-before cl-osing. He wants me b-back.”
Luke closed his eyes while prickles of ice shivered his skin. Blast it all, if only he hadn’t been late! “Did he hurt you?” he whispered, his voice ready to crack.
She answered with a heave, and he gripped her at arm’s length. Bile rose in his throat. Her cheekbone was swollen from hairline to jaw, mottled with a bruise that was just turning blue. Remnants of scarlet lipstick smeared the side of her mouth where a tiny split in her lip oozed the same color blood. He swallowed his rage and cupped her good cheek in his hand, determined to keep the moisture from welling in his eyes.
“Did he hurt you anywhere else?”
She shook her head and looked away, her fingers fluttering to the collar of her once crisp, white blouse, now soiled with grease from the grill and chocolate stains from the fountain. She started to rise, and he helped her up with a steady hand, assessing her from head to toe. His gaze lighted on a gap in her blouse where she’d misbuttoned her shirt, and his stomach tightened when he noticed the top button was missing. He clutched her arms and forced her to face him.
“Tell me the truth, Bets – did he do anything else?”
She tried to push him away. “No, Luke, a couple of slaps for old time’s sake, and nothing more, I promise. His calling card, you know,” she said with a harsh whisper.
“Then why is your blouse gaping open and missing a button?”
A faint wash of color stained her pale cheeks as she looked down before she turned away to rebutton her shirt. Her voice forced a hint of humor, sounding more like the friend he knew and loved. “I’m a slob, you know that about me, Luke. I spilled chocolate and took my blouse off to try and wash it out, that’s all, and I lost a button in the process.”
He stared at her back, unconvinced as his eyes took in dirt stains that ran the length of her shirt and rumpled skirt.
When he didn’t answer, she glanced over her shoulder with a hitch of her brow. “Before the lowlife showed up.” She tucked her blouse firmly into her waistband and adjusted her skirt, then moved to the sink to fill both washtubs with water, obviously making an effort to convince him she was all right. “But I am glad you’re here. You can dry the dishes.”
He ambled over to retrieve a towel from a drawer and slung it over his shoulder. “How did he find you?” His voice was as measured as the soap she poured into the water, swishing until bubbles puffed high. “How does Roberta know where you live or work?”
She attempted a chuckle that came out too brittle. “Unfortunately, Leo’s smart. He found out I lived in Boston and remembered the only family I ever mentioned was a second cousin by the name of Robinson.” She piled a stack of dishes into the water and shot him a glance along with a hard smile. “Who just happened to own a diner.”
Luke blasted out a sigh that was more of a growl. “So much for influence over Roberta.”
Betty actually smiled. She patted his cheek with a deposit of soap bubbles along the scruffy line of his jaw. “Don’t worry, McGee, your influence is still intact, so don’t think you’ve lost your charm. It was Roberta’s friend, Dot, who gave me away.” Betty grunted as she scrubbed dried catsup off a plate. “The little floozy actually invited him down for the weekend.”
She handed him a dripping plate, and he took it and grasped her hand with a gentle hold. His voice was low. “I’m asking you again, Bets, and I want the truth. Did that scumbag try anything else? Because if he did, I’ll kill him.”
A bitter laugh tripped from her lips as she pulled her hand away. She mauled another plate with the dishrag, obviously avoiding his eyes. “I already told you, Luke, he just got fresh and a little rough, that’s all, so there’s no need for murder tonight.” She glanced up with a tight smile. “Would you mind wiping down the booths and balancing the register while I finish the dishes? I didn’t get much done with him here.”
He exhaled a long, weary breath. “First, I want to know what he said.”
She vented with a sigh and closed her eyes, her hands perfectly still in the water. “Says he misses me and wants me back. Plans to move here. He’s looking for a place this weekend.”
“What’d you say?”
She laughed again, the sound of it hollow. “I told him no, of course. And then he hauled off and hit me.”
Luke’s jaw was so tight, he thought it would crack. “Is he staying with Roberta?”
“No!” she said quickly and then doused a soapy plate in the rinse. She handed it to him with a patient smile. “With Dot.”
He tossed the towel on the sink and pulled a clean dishrag from the drawer. He drowned it in the rinse, then squeezed till it was bone dry. Like Leo’s neck. “You’re not going back with him, you know.”
She closed her eyes and swallowed hard. “I know.”
“We’ll get through this, Bets, I promise.”
A faint smile trembled at the corners of her mouth as she nodded. “I know, Luke.” She pushed an auburn strand of hair from her eyes and then turned, lips pursed into a tired smile. “Now, get busy. I don’t want to be here all night.”
“I want a cut of your pay, Galetti,” he said over his shoulder. His tone was full of tease, but his stomach was full of knots.
“Sure thing, McGee,” she called from the kitchen, “just as soon as I get a cut of yours for the meals I cooked this week.”
He swiped the surface of a booth with a faint smile, raising his voice. “That’s extortion, Bets, and you know it. And blackmail doesn’t pay.”
But then neither does assault and battery, he thought with a grunt, envisioning his fist in Leo’s bloody face. His jaw hardened to rock.
Too bad. He could use the money.
12
Luke calmly shut the door of Betty’s room and then wheeled around like a madman, almost leveling Parker in the process.
“Hey, hold on, buddy, don’t run me down – I’ll get out of your way.”
Luke ignored him and charged to his room, heaving the door open with an angry thrust that sent it banging against the wall. He stalked to his closet and began rummaging through his suits, hunting for the trousers he had on the night they were at Kearney’s.
Parker followed and quietly shut the door. “Getting angry won’t solve this, you know.”
“No, but getting even will. That bucket of scum has had my fist coming for a long time.”
“It’s not what she wants, Luke, and you know it.”
He shoved through the suits hanging on the rack, his voice hard. “Which is why I’ve left it alone, Parker, even w
hen that lowlife laid his filthy hands on her again and again. But not now, not here.” He jerked a pair of trousers off a hanger and rammed a hand into the pocket, unearthing a folded scrap of paper. He hurled the slacks aside and tore the paper open. His eyes burned like acid as he stared Parker down, jabbing a thumb against his chest. “This is my territory, and my friend, and I’m going to make sure he never comes near her again.”
“If you won’t listen to Betty, then listen to me. Your temper can’t handle it, Luke, and we all know it. You’re cool and calm most of the time, but for some reason when it comes to Betty, you’ve got this blind spot, this pin in a grenade that makes you blow. I’ve seen you in fights before. For pity’s sake, you almost killed a man over her, and you were barely nineteen at the time. Don’t do this, Luke, I’m begging you. One pass and a slap isn’t worth it. He isn’t worth it – you could injure or kill him in the state of mind you’re in. Why risk your life and your career, not to mention your friendship with Betty?”
Luke stared, fury pumping in his chest. “A pass and a slap? Is that all you think happened?”
“According to Betty – ”
“She’s lying, Parker!”
“You don’t know that.”
Luke leaned in, the piece of paper clenched hot in his fist. A swear word hissed from his lips. “Her blouse was gaping open and there was a button missing. And from the looks of the back of her skirt, he sure wasn’t there for a chat.” He shoved the paper in his pocket and ripped open the bottom drawer of his bureau.
Parker took a step forward. “What are you doing?”
Luke didn’t answer. He tore through the drawer, hurling clothing onto the floor. He finally stood and bobbled four welded steel rings in his palm. His smile was as hard and cold as the metal in his hand. “Just a little souvenir from the streets of New York.”
The whites of Parker’s eyes expanded in shock. “Brass knuckles? You’ll kill the man! For pity’s sake, McGee, you’re not in a gang anymore, running with thugs from the Lower East Side, you’re a respectable lawyer.” Parker moved to the door, the hard line of his jaw matching Luke’s, edge to edge. He folded his arms and stood his ground. “I can’t let you do this.”
Luke pocketed the knuckles and gave Parker a grim look. “And I can’t let you stop me. Once and for all, I’m going to make sure that scum never bothers Betty again.”
“You don’t even know where to find him,” Parker said, his voice almost a plea.
Luke retrieved the paper from his pocket and held it up. “Nope, but I know where to find Roberta. Fourteen A Humphrey Street – where blood will spill and justice will be served.”
Parker butted up against the door, fingers flexed at his sides. “You’re wrong. He’s at Dot’s, not Roberta’s.”
Cool rage twitched beneath his skin as Luke moved toward the door, his gaze pinned to Parker in silent threat. When he spoke, he ground out each word, his tone tight with tension. “Who-lives-in-the-same-building-as-Roberta. Get-out-of-my-way, Riley.”
A nerve flickered in Parker’s jaw. “Sorry, Luke. You’ll have to go through me first.”
Every muscle in Luke’s body tensed. “Have it your way, my friend.” He delivered a solid punch that doubled Parker over at the waist. Luke jerked the door open, and Parker bulldozed it closed with his body, rebounding with a jab of his foot.
Luke’s grin was almost predatory. “You fight like a girl, anybody ever tell you that?”
His chest was heaving as he gave Luke a lidded stare. “Yeah, well, my education was in law school, McGee, not on the streets.” He charged forward, head to chest, toppling Luke on the bed in a squeal of springs.
With a lightning thrust of his arms, Luke vaulted him onto the floor with a hard thud, depositing him against the bureau in a dazed and crumpled heap. He wiped his mouth with the side of his hand and strode toward the door, then turned, his fist white on the knob. “I love you like a brother, Parker, but if you ever get in my way again – or tell Betty about this – you won’t walk for a week.” His hand shook as he eased the door closed, fighting the urge to slam it off the hinges. He glanced down to the end of the hall, where light bled beneath Betty’s door, and fresh rage flooded his veins. So help him, he would kill that bucket of scum or die trying.
Jerking the front door open, he locked and closed it again before flying down the steps of the boardinghouse. A stab of regret tightened his gut, but he never broke stride. Parker would be stiff in the morning, but it couldn’t be helped. He glanced at his watch in the glow of the lamplight, then plunged his hands in his pockets and headed north. It was half past midnight, and Humphrey Street was over thirty minutes away, but Leo would be at the bars for a while, he was sure. Luke’s lips flattened into a hard line. Celebrating his manhood, no doubt, over the fact that he could beat up a woman.
His fingers curled through the steel rings in his pocket, their cool touch causing a once-familiar adrenaline to course through his veins. It had been years since he had been in a real fight, at least since Brady had taken him off the streets with his talk of God and a chance for a new life. More guilt slinked in, and Luke picked up his pace, unwilling to let thoughts of Brady or Parker or Betty diminish his rage.
Parker said he had a blind spot when it came to Betty, a pin in a grenade, and maybe it was true. He stared straight ahead as he walked, barely aware of cozy couples as they passed or laughing groups milling by. He and Betty had so much history together – as friends, as family . . . He swallowed hard to dispel the shame in his throat. As lovers. His shoulders slumped as he slowed his pace. That was the brunt of the blind spot, he supposed – a guilt so deep and raw, he couldn’t be rational when it came to her. He had wronged her, used her, the best friend he’d ever had on the streets, and the guilt ate at him like a case of Nehis bubbling in his stomach. And to add insult to injury, she was still in love with him, and he knew it. All the more reason to protect her, defend her, he thought with a firm press of his jaw. And he’d start tonight by making Leo wish he’d never been born.
He rounded the trash-littered corner of Berthold and Humphrey with its flickering streetlamp and shards of broken glass, and had no qualms whatsoever about being in the wrong part of town. Weedy lots and ramshackle flats had been his lot in life, and tonight felt almost like coming home. He glanced down Humphrey, dark and menacing, shadow-garish with broken streetlamps and the flash of neon. He slowed his gait like a cat on the prowl with muscles loose and motion fluid as he scanned each address. A feral smile slid across his lips when he spotted 14 Humphrey, dark and foreboding – the perfect place to extract a pound of flesh. Luke mounted the first step, and his muscles tensed at a movement of shadow in the alley between the flats. He eased off the step and flexed his fingers, every nerve itching for release.
The shadow shifted, moving into the moonlight. “I can’t let you do this, Luke.”
Shock paralyzed Luke’s muscles. “What are you doing here?”
Brady strolled forward, hands in his pockets like a walk in the park, but his jaw was as steeled as if he thrived on the streets. His eyes were calm, and there was the barest of smiles on his serious face. “Parker called. Seems he thinks you plan to kill somebody tonight.”
A swear word hissed from Luke’s lips as naturally as if he still belonged in this part of town. “Go home, Brady. It’s none of Parker’s business, and it’s none of yours.”
With a casual air, Brady perched on the chipped stone top of a brick column that showcased the concrete steps, cracked and littered with weeds. He folded massive arms, bulging with muscles as tight as Luke’s, then squinted up, the faint smile still in place. “You see, that’s where you’re wrong, Luke. Caring about you makes it my business, just like it does Parker’s. Just like you care about Betty, making her welfare your business.”
Luke took a step forward. A tic pulsed in his cheek as he clenched his fists. “Betty is my business, and I’m going to do everything in my power to protect her.”
Brady asse
ssed him through veiled eyes, his voice low and unhurried. “And what about God’s power, Luke . . . you doing everything in his power to protect her?”
With a curse and a violent thrust of his foot, Luke kicked a stray bottle into the concrete step. It struck with a sickening shatter, and chards of glass exploded onto the walk. “Don’t peddle your talk of God to me, Brady. He hasn’t done a whole devil of a lot to protect Betty tonight.” His chest heaved with anger as he thought of Katie, and pain seared a hole in his gut at the notion he was in love with a woman who would never love him back. “Or me, for that matter,” he said with a sneer. “Go home and leave me alone. I’m going to handle this my way, with a fist instead of forgiveness. That lowlife raped her, and he’s going to pay.”
“It’s your word against Betty’s, and you don’t know that for sure.”
His eyes bulged with hate. “No, but I know lowlife scum like him – using her body for his own vile release, taking what he wants with no happily ever after.”
Brady’s jaw shifted before he pinned Luke in a probing stare. “You mean like you did?”
Rage exploded in Luke’s brain and he lunged, his deadly fist coiled in fury. It clipped Brady on the jaw, toppling him into a spindly yew bush at the side of the steps.
He rebounded quickly, circling Luke in ready stance. His fingers clenched and unclenched at his sides as if he were just warming up, and the faint smile returned while he stared at Luke with that familiar white-hot calm. “I can’t help but wonder, Cluny, where you and Betty would be right now if God had used a fist instead of forgiveness.”
Brady’s words stung his pride, detonating his temper. He rushed again, hurtling a punch at Brady’s face that earned Luke a fierce blow to his own gut, doubling him over and stealing his wind. Before he could catch his breath, an iron fist to his cheek sent Luke staggering back, momentarily stunned.