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gasoline.”
    “Leave that to me.” He swung his leg over the top of the chair and picked up his cap from the table. “I better go. Delivery truck’s coming early in the morning and I told Bridget I’d help unload.”
    “What time will we meet tomorrow night?” I whispered, following him to the front door.
    “I’ll pick you up at nine.” He paused, glancing over my shoulder up the stairs. “Do you want me to stay?”
    Yes. The word popped into my mind before I had a chance to think about it. Joey noticed my hesitation.
    “I don’t mind staying here, if it will make you feel safer.” His voice was soft and low, and it was the first time I’d ever heard him say something like that without joking. Standing there in the dark, I was tempted to tell him to stay. With his full, familiar lips so close, I was tempted to do more than that.
    What the hell is with you today? Say goodnight! “No,” I said, stepping back. “You can go. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
    After he left, I locked the door, crept into my room, and undressed. Wearily I climbed back into bed and lay there, my body numb with fatigue but my brain buzzing with questions. Where were they keeping Daddy? Would they hurt him again? Were we safe here? I chewed on the edge of the sheet. Now that I knew a locked door was no match for Enzo DiFiore, I wasn’t sure I’d ever feel safe again. What was his role in all this? And why had he kissed me like that?
    My eyes slammed shut. Jesus, you couldn’t trust anybody. Not even men with movie star faces whose kisses felt like fire in your veins.
    Rolling to my side, I crooked one elbow underneath my head. I’m a horrible person. How can I even think about kissing Enzo with Daddy being held hostage? What was the matter with me? And had I really been tempted to kiss Joey at the door? That boy had been nothing but trouble my entire life, and now it looked he’d make a career out of it. Was he working for the River Gang? It was hard to believe he’d want the same kind of life his father had—or the same kind of death. But he sure had a lot of information. Could I trust him?
    I wanted to trust him.
    But I also wanted a gun.

Chapter Four
     
    After settling the argument between my sisters—Molly lost, I said she had to take Mary Grace to Electric Park—I told them Daddy had gone to Cleveland for a few days, and if they stayed out of trouble while he was gone, they could each pick out a new skirt or blouse from the Sears Roebuck catalog. Then I broke up the fight that ensued when Mary Grace said Molly was hogging the catalog behind the locked bathroom door, which is where she insists she has to go if she wants any privacy at all.
    I spent the rest of Saturday morning stocking shelves at the store, jumping out of my skin every time the bell over the door rang, and wiping my sweaty palms on my skirt. I managed to avoid Bridget, who said she needed some fresh produce and took the kids down to Eastern Market. Since Martin was minding the store in her absence, I went over to the garage, where it looked like Joey had attempted to repair the busted lock but hadn’t finished the job. Inside the office, I dug Daddy’s directory out of the desk and called Blaise at the Cloverly Inn.
    “Yeah?” barked a gruff voice.
    I cleared my throat. “I’m calling for Jack O’Mara.”
    “Yeah?”
    “Uh, I need to make a pickup. Twelve cases. Tomorrow night, if possible.”
    “It’s possible.”
    “Can I make the pickup after nine?”
    “Thirty-five per. I’ll meet you at the docks.”
    There , I thought, allowing myself a sliver of triumph as I hung up. But when I replaced the directory, I noticed someone had been in the secret compartment at the back of Daddy’s bottom desk drawer, the one where he kept the ledgers. I reached in and felt around.
    Empty.
    “Damn it,” I whispered. Money slipped through Daddy’s fingers like water but he kept meticulous records of what we sold and to whom. My blood iced over as I thought