Trouble Boys (White Lightning Book 5)

by Debra Dunbar

  Lefty added, “Basically, it’s smooth sailing as long as we don’t make waves.”

  “Any of you fine gents ever met Betty Sharp?” Augustus asked the three from Baltimore.

  “As a matter of fact,” Lefty answered, “we have. No love lost with that one.”

  Floresta stood up. “Speaking of which, it’s Luciano’s opinion that an eye for an eye would be a proportional response. We find the cash, or most of it. And we relieve Maranzano of one of his soldiers.”

  “Hell with that,” Lennie spat. “We don’t have a money problem. We have a lunatic problem.”

  Augustus nodded. “Yeah, I’m with Lennie on this one.”

  Vincent glanced to Lefty, who seemed troubled by the turn in conversation.

  Floresta held up his hands. “It’s Lucky’s call.”

  “Then we’ll take it up with him,” Lennie pressed. “She’s the one who put Lou down. You want an eye for an eye? I say we drop that crazy hag and they can keep the money.”

  Augustus nodded once.

  Floresta peered at Vincent. “Where do you stand on this?”

  “Since when do they get a vote?” Lennie blustered.

  “Since when do you?” Floresta snapped.

  Vincent said, “Look, fellas. I’ve been tangling with Betty Sharp since she was Betty Capstein. I know she has reasons to be the way she is, but all those reasons alone don’t add up to the sack of crazy she’s turned into. Proportional response aside, we’d be doing all the families a favor by putting her down. It’d do more to keep the peace than anything Maranzano or Masseria would do.”

  Augustus gave Vincent’s comment a quick applause. “That, right there.”

  Floresta glanced to Lefty, who remained silent. “Right, I’ll take it to Luciano.”

  Chapter 17

  Hattie slumped in the chair and stared out the third story window at the neighboring Brooklyn rooftops. The pall of night covered the city, and a haze of humid air created a halo from the streetlights running east to west from the building. Drowsiness filled her head, easing her eyelids lower. Her thoughts dulled to a hum as she stared through the glass pane.

  The halo of streetlamps darkened to a hungry red, flickering like the pulse of a heartbeat. Her heartbeat. The sky was no longer a simple, starless night. It was the vast, unblinking pupil of an eye glaring through her soul. She was suddenly small, a mote of dust before a titan. Flames lifted in the corners of her vision, but she was too terrified to shift her gaze. Transfixed. Harrowed.

  “Hattie!” Maria’s voice thundered through the dream.

  Hattie blinked her eyes open. The fog around the streetlights was just fog. The night was a cloud-covered shroud over New York. She sucked in a breath and turned to Maria, who stood in the middle of the room.

  “I’ve been calling your name for a minute,” Maria said, eyes wide with concern.

  Hattie ran a hand over her forehead, pulling it back dripping with sweat. “Sorry. Dozed off there for a moment.”

  “What’s going on?” Maria prodded, crouching in front of her. “You’re not sleeping. And when you do, you toss and turn with dreams.”

  Hattie lifted a hand to calm her, but noticed it was trembling. She stuffed it back into her lap. “I’m alright. Just tired.”

  “You look like you have a fever.” Maria reached for her forehead. Hattie tried to dodge her hand, but Maria managed to pull the back of her fingers against her cheek. “No, you’re cold.”

  “I’m fine,” she insisted.

  Maria stood with a scowl. “You brought me here to help you. I’m trying to help. Why won’t you let me?”

  “Because it’s nothing you can help with.” Hattie stood up, grateful her legs didn’t give. She pulled her sweat-soaked shirt away from her chest. “I’m going to wash up,”

  Grabbing a towel from the cabinet by the foot of the bed, Hattie stepped into the hallway, leaving Maria behind. She regretted the curt exit, but it was more to keep from having an emotional breakdown in front of the other woman than to be rude.

  As Hattie peeled off her clothes and stepped into the tub to rinse the sweat and grime off, she resolved to treat Maria with more consideration. This damned soul trap could steal her sleep, but it wouldn’t take her kindness.

  She finished and toweled herself dry. As she reached for her clothes, she gave them a sniff. Her nose wrinkled. They needed a good washing. Hattie turned and ran more water, giving her working clothes a good soak and scrub. As she twisted her trousers beneath the running water, she heard a loud clack in the tub. The tiny obsidian marble had fallen free of her pocket. It sat wobbling in the water, a spark of red sweeping across its surface. The soul trap rolled an inch toward the drain.

  Hattie watched it, her body rigid.

  If it washed down those pipes and down the drain, it’d be lost. Flushed down into the city sewers. Maybe buried forever in filth. Maybe swept out to the river. It would be gone. The Deltaville Demon, and the grip it had on her body and mind, would vanish forever.

  No.

  Hattie slapped her hand over the drain, catching the marble before it fell away. Just a hair away from the pipes. She pressed it against the floor of the tub. Just a wiggle one direction, and it could still disappear.

  An urge swept through her chest. Almost a plea. Don’t do this! Save me.

  Hattie lifted the soul trap from the tub. Its surface pulsed a brilliant red, dulling slowly to a shiny black once more. The demon didn’t want to control her. It didn’t want to damn her soul, or haunt her dreams.

  It just wanted to be free.

  Hattie set the soul trap onto the floor as she returned to her clothes. She wrung them out as well as she could, slipping the marble back into the pocket of her trousers before she wrapped a towel around herself and lugged the damp clothes down the hall back to her room.

  Hattie stepped inside and walked over to the wardrobe, slinging her trousers, shirt and undergarments over the edge of the door to dry. “So, listen. Now that I’m me again, I owe you an apology. I’ve been in a twist all week, and you’ve tried everything to break through. For that, I’m sorry.”

  Hattie reached for her towel, unwrapping the cinch near her collarbone as Maria turned. “I’m not sleeping well. Not at all. But it’s nothing you can help, which is why I’ve tried not to burden you with’t.”

  Maria’s eyes widened and she lifted a hand, but Hattie cut her off.

  “No, let me finish. I’ve thought about this in the bath, and I think it’s time—”

  As Hattie pulled open her towel to let the air cool her skin, Maria pointed to the corner of the room and shouted, “Hattie!”

  She froze, turning to find Vincent sitting in a chair.

  Hattie yelped and scrambled to pull the towel closed.

  Vincent jumped out of his chair, turning to face the corner.

  Hattie stammered, “What…you’re…eh, boy-o!”

  “Sorry! I didn’t think you’d—”

  “You better turn your skinny arse around, there!”

  “It’s turned! It’s turned!”

  Hattie twisted the towel tight around her armpit, glaring at Maria.

  “You were just going to let him sit there?”

  “I tried to warn you,” Maria chuckled.

  Hattie thrust a finger at the door. “Give us a moment, then?”

  Maria nodded and laughed as she moved for the door. “Gladly. I think you need it.”

  “Oh, don’t get too excited girly.”

  Maria gave them both a wink as she dipped out into the hallway.

  Hattie turned to find Vincent still dutifully examining the corner.

  “It’s alright,” she said. “I’m wrapped up tight again.”

  He turned to catch a glimpse. “I wasn’t expecting that.”

  She took a seat on the corner of the bed, keeping her legs tight in front of her. “Did you enjoy the show, at least?”

  A dopey smile crept across his face.

  She nodded. “W
ell, that’s good to hear. I thought we weren’t meeting until tomorrow morning.”

  “That was the plan, but there’ve been developments.”

  “Go on.”

  “So, Maranzano’s pinchers and I knocked over Masseria’s cash room.”

  Hattie nodded with satisfaction. “Impressive.”

  “It wasn’t easy. And there was a problem. Betty killed one of Masseria’s men on the way out.”

  “The woman can’t help herself.”

  Vincent squinted. “It wasn’t entirely her fault. We were blown. Something had to happen. Anyways, her sort of violence is easy to identify. Masseria still doesn’t want open warfare, so he’s sent his pinchers in deal with Betty.”

  Hattie nodded with a frown. “Does that include you, then?”

  “Me and Buddy.”

  “Doesn’t that make things easier on us, though?” she asked.

  “Not really. In a way, killing Betty would probably bring everything to a peaceful conclusion. The other families would accept the act because she’s developed a bit of a reputation as crazy and unstable. Maranzano would be left with Pockets as his only pincher. He’d be forced to return the cash and bow out gracefully. Or else, it’d be a quick stab in a dark alley, and the war would be over.”

  “You’re saying we have to protect Maranzano?”

  “I’m saying we have to protect Betty.”

  She winced. “Right, then.”

  “And that won’t be easy, because I think I put some thoughts in her head. She’s run off.”

  Hattie sighed. “What thoughts?”

  “I don’t know,” he said, strolling toward the window. “The more she tries to kill me, the more I understand her. She’s as much a victim of the system as we are.”

  Hattie swiveled to face him. “I’m lost. When did our mission here become helping Betty keep her head?”

  “We’re here to secure a future for pinchers. All pinchers.” Vincent rubbed the back of his head. “I’d say I feel responsible, but there’s probably a dozen ways you could talk me out of that.”

  Hattie stood, walking over to reach for his arm. “I could, but I know better. Your problem is that you care too much.”

  He smiled at her. “Is that a problem?”

  “It is when you’re trying to take down the two largest crime families in New York City.”

  Vincent laughed. “Let’s just call Capone and put him on the case.”

  She smiled at him, rubbing his arm. The feel of him, the nearness of him put her at ease.

  “How are you feeling?” he asked.

  “Hmm?”

  “You were telling Maria you aren’t well.”

  She pulled away with another sigh. “It’s the damned soul trap.”

  “How much longer do you think you can keep that thing?”

  She shook her head. “I’ve no way of knowing. But I think we have a duty to this demon.”

  He cocked a brow. “What sort of duty?”

  “It’s part of us. Connected to us. Our dark twin. Isn’t it?”

  Vincent shrugged.

  Hattie continued, “It’s been imprisoned inside this marble for half a year, now. I think… I don’t know. I get the sense that it’s panicked. Lonely. Or rather, just caged. It’s in misery.”

  Vincent nodded. “So, all of this leakage is—?”

  “It needs help. Somehow it knows I have it. Maybe it’s part of the connection.” She turned away. “I almost dropped it down the drain tonight.”

  Vincent lifted his chin with a grimace. “Really?”

  “It would’ve been cruel of me.”

  “Would it?”

  “We call it a demon, but what does that mean? Is it necessarily evil? A lieutenant of Lucifer? Or is it just a different sort of creature than we are? I don’t know. I just feel it should be where it belongs. And that’s not at the bottom of East River. Nor in my pocket.”

  Vincent asked, “What do you want to do with it, then? If we let it out, the Hell Pincher might find it and trap it again.”

  “At least it would have a fighting chance. Like this?” She shook her head. “It’s helpless.”

  Vincent reached for her shoulders, giving them a rub. “Do you even know how to release it if you wanted to?”

  “Hassam does. I’m sure of it.”

  “I thought he was gone.”

  She turned to find herself in Vincent’s arms. Closing her eyes she listened to his heartbeat. It hammered quicker as she gripped him tighter. “I wish you could stay. I can’t feel the demon when you’re with me.”

  He whispered, “I wish I could stay, too.”

  She pulled her head up to meet his, kissing him with a desperate passion. His hands slipped lower down the back of the towel, pulling her tightly against him. When she broke the kiss, they continued to hold each other for a while, settling into the peace of the moment.

  “You should try to sleep,” he murmured into her hair. “Let me take the soul trap tonight.”

  Hattie stiffened at the offer. They were soul twins, equal partners in the universal balance against this demon. Why had she carried the weight of it on her own shoulders for so long? As she struggled to find a way to rationally deny his request, she finally understood her reluctance.

  “I’ve gotten used to it, used to the lack of sleep. We’re playing a dangerous game here, and I don’t want to risk you being distracted or tired.”

  “Is that the only reason?” he asked.

  She bit her lip, burying her face against his shirt. “No. I feel like it’s asking me to protect it, that it trusts me.”

  “It’s a demon, Hattie.” His voice was gentle as he caressed her back.

  “It’s a living being, though.”

  Vincent pulled back a bit to look her in the eye. Finally, he nodded. “Then we’ll protect it together.”

  Taking her hand, he led her to the bed. He began unbuttoning his vest, but she brushed his hands away to tend to it herself. She pulled his vest off his shoulders, tossing it onto the ground. Fully clothed, he lay on top of the bed, gathering one of the pillows under his arm. Hattie crawled onto the bed, curling up in her towel as he draped an arm around her. She placed her hand on his chest, feeling it rise and fall.

  And they remained there, silent. At peace.

  Hattie’s mind filled with thoughts of Vincent’s family as his breathing evened out in sleep. She thought of what his parents had gone through, what fate they’d suffered at the hands of these gangs. No parents. No siblings. He’d been a young child, completely alone.

  Sorrow gripped Hattie as she pondered his life. She wanted more than ever to be his family. The desire for it filled everything inside her. Gripping him tight, tears fell from her eyes.

  And just like that, sleep found her.

  Hattie awoke to the sound of the room’s door scraping against the floor boards. She’d rolled over at some point during the night, her towel splayed open up to her waist. She reached to straighten it lazily as she blinked awake.

  The realization that she’d actually fallen asleep dropped into her brain, and she sat upright. Vincent was still there, lying on his back, eyes closed.

  Hattie glanced toward the door, finding Maria entering with two mugs. The aroma of coffee filled the room.

  “Alright, you two,” Maria announced loud enough to wake Vincent. “Coffee and sunshine. Everyone up and at ’em. Clothed, preferably.”

  Hattie pulled herself to the side of the bed, re-tucking her towel as Maria handed her one of the mugs.

  Vincent grumbled awake, shaking his head. “The hell?”

  Maria held his coffee in front of him until he was coherent enough to take it.

  “Rude awakening,” Hattie muttered.

  “I spent the night wandering the streets,” Maria said. “Drank too much. Sobered up. Got my own coffee, then decided the two of you needed to cut this short.”

  “What time is it?” Vincent asked.

  “Nearly nine.”

 
; He straightened, then pounded some of the coffee as he stood up.

  Hattie gestured for the two to turn their backs as she dropped the towel and pulled on her dried clothes.

  “You late for a meeting?” Maria asked Vincent.

  “As a matter of fact…”

  “Things went…well?” she prodded.

  Hattie watched Vincent as he gave Maria the tiniest of glances. Sure, the woman would be eager for gossip. Due to the awkward housing arrangement, Hattie couldn’t blame her. But why plug him for the details?

  Vincent searched for his vest. Hattie reached to the floor and tossed it to him.

  “I better get to Queens,” Vincent grumbled. “Before Lefty starts nosing around.”

  Hattie buttoned her shirt, adjusting her trousers.

  “Can you give us a minute?” she asked Maria.

  Maria sneered. “I gave you ten hours. I’m exhausted.”

  Vincent urged, “It’s fine. I really have to run.”

  Hattie said, “We’re tailing Masseria’s people today. With any luck, we’ll find Betty before they do.”

  “Okay.” He turned back to the corner chair to gather his jacket and hat. “You’ll be right behind me. Keep an eye out for that thin black fellow with the hat. He’s a crafty one, I can tell.”

  Maria made an amused noise with her nose. “He is. I know firsthand.”

  Vincent buttoned his jacket and slipped his hat back onto his head. He gave Hattie one more kiss, this one sweet and affectionate.

  “I’m never far away,” he said.

  “It doesn’t feel that way, sometimes.”

  His smile filled with misery. “We’ll fix this. We’ll fix all of this.”

  Vincent left the room, pinching time to take his exit. She noted the sensation as his time bubble proceeded down the stairs, and she slipped free of its confines as he made his way to the street.

  Maria emerged from the bubble none the wiser, shaking her head at his disappearance. “Doesn’t that bother you?”

  “It doesn’t affect me,” Hattie replied as she moved to the window.

  Glancing down at the walk, she watched as he turned to give her one more look, pausing as if fighting a battle within himself. He turned and walked away.