#oc esther garnier

[deepdisireslonging]

Choices Chapter 9: The Ultimatum

The crew of Esther, Ricky, and Joe arrive back at the house. Esther does her best to debrief all that happened, but Wardlow doesn't seem to be listening. Ricky's past is revealed, along with his secret.

Warnings/Promises: cw blood, gun appearance, reminder that Wardlow is a ruthless gangster

Word Count: 4240

Chapter 8: Under the Gun

Sunday, February 24, 1929

Bridgeport Township

The car hurtled down the street. It almost couldn’t handle the sudden turn into the alley. When it did, Spears had to leap out of the way. His gun was pointed at the car until Joe hopped out.

“Tell Mrs. Anne to get some bandages.”

Spears shook his head. “The Gusenburgs left already. Are you hurt? What’s – Miss Garnier!” He rushed to help her out of the floor of the car, then stumbled back. “Starks?” The grin that Ricky gave him was not returned. Instead, trepidation kept his shoulders taunt, and his grip on his gun tense. “Joe-” he stammered, “the house is empty besides Wardlow and-”

“That’s good.” Joe eyed the briefcase in Esther’s hand. “Let’s get everyone inside before somebody sees.”

The kitchen doors never seemed so welcoming to Esther. Though empty, the kitchen was never warmer. Or maybe her shivering wasn’t from the cold, but from the fear and the rush still trying to figure out where to go in her limbs. As they walked deeper into the house, her shivers abated. Everything was a comfort. The carpet under her shoes. The wallpaper in its lovely green. And Ricky by her side. She held him close with her arm tight around his waist.

Joe gently moved to her other side and shouted, “Hey, Mike! You’re never going to believe this.”

Gun first, Wardlow darted out from his office. He stopped in his tracks, face bright with worry, then elation when he saw Esther. It drained away when he saw the man at her side. “Ricky.” He glanced over his shoulder, motioning to someone to stay put. When he focused his attention back on Esther, it was hesitant. “Esther-”

“Oh.” She assumed he was waiting for an explanation. And maybe any details she was able to retain. After taking a breath to steady herself, she launched with everything she could remember. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t just – It all worked out. We made it. And we know for sure that Friedman isn’t the Dealer. But he is behind Valentine’s day. A personal vendetta. He thought you and Mr. Omega were ‘making a move.’ But he’s working with him. He said that he…” she ran her fingertips over the hollow of her throat. “He said that the Dealer put me to sleep. When I got there – everything happened so fast… they had Ricky. Tried to use me against him. But Baker showed up. Gave Friedman this briefcase.” After lifting the case like an afterthought, she slowed her breathing.

“Mr. Wardlow, I don’t think there is a list,” Esther continued. “Friedman didn’t care about one. Baker asked one of Friedman’s crew, Darret? Darby? Asked him flat out if he was going to be at the meeting tonight. Friedman said he didn’t care who was in on the Game, but he was angry at Darby. Like he didn’t know which of his crew members were joining the Dealer.”

Suddenly, she couldn’t breathe. Catching her elbows, Ricky and Joe kept her on her feet. Only then did she realize how quiet everyone was. Especially Ricky. The briefcase fell into Joe’s hand as she leaned into Ricky’s arms.

“They – they were going to send me back to you. Alone. With-” A tear tracked down her cheek. “With a bullet between my ribs.”

Ricky’s arms squeezed tightly around her. If she hadn’t squeezed her eyes shut tight against the fear she could have wondered if the glare Ricky shot towards Wardlow was protective, or possessive.

“But I shot Page before he-”

Joe’s eyebrows shot up. “She- you shot Page?” He hummed, impressed. “Glad to be rid of him. Did you take his gun or…?”

“Yes, I took his. And it was just his leg. Mine was – he had taken the bullets out, but I didn’t know at the time, and-”

“Where did you get a gun?” Wardlow’s question hung accusingly.

Esther swallowed. “Britt- Britt Baker gave it to me. Last night. She- she surprised us at Giovanni’s.” Again, the overwhelming dampness of the silence surprised her. “I was going to tell you. She did offer me a job. But I turned it down, and since she didn’t press…” The ice in Wardlow’s eyes scared her. Made her tremble all over like a ferocious January blast. Just as she thought she couldn’t tremble anymore, Joe lightly took her by the elbow.

“Let’s get you a glass of water.” He gently glanced at Ricky, catching his breath when he let her go. “We’ll be out in a minute.”

Wardlow moved not a muscle. Not until Esther and Joe were out of sight did he inhale deeply. Like a warrior before a battle cry. “Starks… how about you step into my office.”

\\*//

In the kitchen, Esther couldn’t stop shaking. Not after Joe guided her into a chair. Or after passing the cold glass into her hand. It threatened to slosh all over when she tried to take a sip. It wouldn’t have been the first time she’d drenched herself in the kitchen that day. Her lungs stuttered to think she’d been doing laundry with Mrs. Anne just that morning. With the sheets hanging everywhere like a hall of unreflective mirrors with surprises around every corner.

The clasp of the briefcase lock shook her. “So, what’s in it? What did Friedman want so badly?”

Joe riffled through some of the pages. “Personal papers of his. Helpful, but not important right this second.” One particular page, which Esther noted was of thick, fine paper and marked with a crest on the front, made him nod. He buried it under the rest before shutting up the case. It disappeared from sight as he moved it to sit on the floor.

“I’m sorry.” Esther sat the now empty glass to one side. “We should have come straight home last night when we ran into Baker. But she-”

“She’s not an easy woman to step away from.” He fixed her with an unreadable stare. “You got back when you could.”

“I was going to tell you. But Ricky spoke up first, and you were all… armed. I thought telling you then would make things worse. Then, at- at breakfast, everyone separated so quick. I didn’t get the chance, and-”

“Miss Garnier. There’s nothing to be done. All we can do is move forward.” His hand flashed to his side holster when angry shouting came from the room next to them. “We knew you’d be offered a job. Wardlow would have liked to be told sooner, instead of finding out like this. But-” He stood as the shouting grew louder. “You did what you could. I understand that. Esther… about Ricky…”

She swallowed hard, suddenly needing another glass of water.

“What about Ricky?”

Something crashed, sending the both of them towards the door. Joe turned back for the briefcase.

“Esther, wait!”

But she ran towards the volume, unable to hear it clearly for the pounding of her heart in her ears. She burst through the doors into Wardlow’s office, stopping short to see Ricky kneeling in the center of the room. Joe skid to a stop behind her. Then she noticed the visitor leaning against the bookcase. “Mr. Taz.” With a dip of her head, she tried to figure out how he was involved. But she couldn’t think. Couldn’t hardly breathe.

It had taken most of the drive back to stop Ricky’s bleeding. But there he was, bleeding from the same wounds, and a few new ones. Wardlow’s shirt sleeves were rolled back. His jacket was long gone, revealing the crisscrossing leather of his shoulder holster, clipped tight around a pair of pistols. His fist was still pulled back, ready to fly. The heavy ring on his finger, not dissimilar to the one Taz had given to Cargil, was the most likely cause of Ricky’s new cut on his cheek.

Spears, standing in the far corner by the window, couldn’t meet her eye. His hand held fast to Ares’s collar. Esther shoved off Joe’s attempted comforting hand on her shoulder.

“What is this?”

“Confronting a traitor. Joe and I had been racking our brains as to why he would turn on us.” Wardlow hissed, adjusting the ring. “But then Taz came in with some valuable information.”

The visitor, a man who was supposed to be retired from his way of life, pushed himself off the bookcases. If he couldn’t break clean, Esther worried about her ability to eventually get away. He spared a glance at Ricky, almost sorry it was ending like this. “He used to work for me. Before he left, I gave him a job to do.” His gaze darkened. “Turns out he lied to me about its completion.”

“He’s been lying to everyone. He’s the leak Joe and I have been trying to find. The traitor.” Wardlow ticked his head towards Taz. “Did Ricky tell you? Taz was the one who recommended him to this crew when I started it. With such a letter, I trusted him. He’s been the go-between for all the families. All the links we kept as a system of checks and balances, picking up information. And, apparently, passing it around.”

Despite the tremor in Esther’s knees, she remained standing, resisting Joe’s light push towards a chair. She wanted to lay down. She wanted to run. She wanted to scream until everything made sense. She wanted to wake up from this nightmare. She wanted a drink. Something clicked into place. “Cole,” she breathed. “You were supposed to kill Adam Cole. That’s why you looked like you’d seen a ghost last night.” Her breath caught in her throat until she swallowed. “Because you had.”

From his knees, Ricky looked small. Defeated. The cut on his cheek was still trickling, though it had lessened. He nodded. “Guess this is a good time as any. I knew this morning I was a dead man. Everyone in the room knew it, besides Miss Garnier.” Nobody could meet his eye. Except for Esther, who was watching him like he would disappear in the blink of an eye if she didn’t hold him there. “She doesn’t know a thing about it, Wardlow. If that’s the only truth you believe out of me today, let that be enough.” He swallowed, eyeing Wardlow’s ring, the shiny gold dulled with his blood. “Without the good parson Omega here, maybe you all will hear my confession. Give me a chance to clear my name…”

He took a deep breath. Like he was counting down the last chances at oxygen. “I had worked myself up to do the… job. The gun was cocked before I walked through the door.” Ricky smiled, remembering the day. “To his credit, he didn’t beg. Like I told you, Taz. That bit was true. But then Britt walked in.” His smile dropped into a frown. “And – they’ve got a kid. It was just an infant. She was shocked to see me, to see the gun. That’s when Adam started begging. Begging me not to hurt his family.” Slumping more on his knees, Ricky struggled to continue. “I – I couldn’t – I couldn’t do it. I’ll take punches and bleed and gather information all day, but I’m not a cold-blooded killer. I couldn’t stare into Britt’s eyes one second and make her a widow the next.”

With a shuddered breath, he looked at each man in turn. All around until his eyes stopped on Esther. “I’m sorry.” His gaze dropped to the floor as if dragged down by a great weight. When he looked up again, he rolled back his shoulders with a wince, and his eyes were backlit with an inner fire. “You can do what you want with me now. But I wouldn’t change a thing about that day.” He looked up at Wardlow. “Could you have done anything more if it had been you standing in that room?”

Wardlow didn’t answer. He didn’t move.

Joe nudged out his chin. “Why didn’t you clean out all of them? Would have solved the widow problem.”

“I couldn’t.” Ricky eyed Joe with a new understanding of the man’s ruthlessness. “Not in cold blood. Britt was innocent back then. No one knew she’d take up the business. Imagine how ruthless she’d be if I had shot him. Or hurt the kid.”

Wardlow stirred. “Boy or girl?”

“Don’t know. Didn’t stick around to find out. I took Adam outside, explained I was going to flip him. Then shot into the air. And I ran. Taz, you sent me up here, then came up a few months later when things still didn’t work out.” Ricky paused. Thinking. “Kid’s probably four or five now.” A smile cracked, and he glanced at Esther. “It was a surgical masterstroke from Mrs. Baker, giving you my gun. I had given it to Adam, retiring it when I retired him. So, you can imagine my shock when she dropped it into your purse yesterday. They kept it. All this time. And gave it to you, Esther, the gun that didn’t kill Adam Cole, as a way to defend yourself. Allotta good that did.”

Crossing his arms, Joe hmphed. “If you had finished the job, it would’ve saved us a lot of grief and countless lives.”

“Adam is the Dealer,” Taz said.

Ricky’s brow creased. “No. He isn’t. He told me last night. The Dealer is another guy moving in for territory. They have an agreement, but he’s still been hitting Adam’s places before they can open. To keep him in line. The Dealer didn’t reveal him, but he hasn’t been helping either.” He eyed Taz. “How’d you find out?”

“Saw Ms. Baker – well, Mrs. Baker and Cole walking arm in arm in broad daylight. After finalizing Cargill’s buyout. About keeled over right there on ninth street. But I made inquiries before coming to Wardlow.”

“Did he tell you?” Joe’s crossed arms tensed. “Did he tell you who the Dealer is?”

“No, the bastard. He’d said I’d find out soon enough. So, I kept snooping. Looking around and hoping I could buy forgiveness with the information.” He glanced at Wardlow. “If I lived long enough.”

At first, the world waited for Wardlow’s response. It waited several infinite seconds before he turned back to his desk. The lamp that usually sat on the corner was on the floor, and his papers were in disarray. Esther could picture him slamming Ricky onto it, summoning her and Joe with the noise. When he turned back, he tossed a handful of cards onto the floor in front of Ricky. “We found these in your room.” As Ricky picked up the closest card, the Jack of Hearts, Wardlow continued. “I believe you. I believe your story about flipping Cole. And that you were shocked to see him again. But don’t for one second think that I believe you’re not working with the Dealer.” His temples flexed as he struggled to keep his composure. “I would be impressed how long you kept the wool over our eyes, but you should have kept Miss Garnier out of it. You’ve been using her as a cover since Jericho picked you up. You’ve been using all of us.”

Esther startled. That day felt like a lifetime ago. Had it really just been a week? Only a few sleeps since she had cowered in the alley behind her old apartment? Only a few days since Ricky cowered behind the car while Jericho and his men shot it up? But that – that trip had been spur of the moment. For a forgotten scarf at Mary’s. And he had come back in such a rough state. Almost as rough as he was there on Wardlow’s office floor.

Turning the card between his fingers, Ricky tried to set things right. “Boss, these aren’t mine. I’ve never seen them. Where would I keep them? And I would never use Esther. For anything.” He tossed the card at Wardlow’s feet. “The second I joined your crew, I have been completely on your side-”

“Don’t feed me that applesauce.” Faster than Esther could blink, he had Ricky on his feet and pinned to the map by his shredded lapels. “You’ve been making plans since you stepped foot in Chicago. I don’t know, and I don’t care what those plans were. To get out, to join another crew. To start your own. Every move you’ve ever made was for yourself and for your benefit.”

He shifted his grip so one thick hand squeezed around Ricky’s throat. Joe and Spears hastened to stand behind Wardlow. To stop him or assist him, Esther wasn’t sure. But she could see between the gaps in their shoulders how Ricky clawed at Wardlow’s hand until he made enough room to breathe.

“As if you would have done anything differently in my position. You did everything you could to watch your own back when you left Friedman,” Ricky spat. “But I swear, I’ve never taken a single step against you.” He sputtered, coughing hard. “What will it take for you to believe me?” 

Wardlow’s grip loosened. It was less than a split second, the peek he chanced back at Esther. She held her breath. Glancing over their shoulders, Joe and Spears quickly looked at her too. Spears turned back, looking up at his old friend, cheeks ashen. The same realization tugged at the corner of Joe’s mouth, but he turned back too fast for Esther to read. Their reactions made Starks lean into the grip around his throat.

“I’d rather you kill me than that.”

“That can be arranged.”

Wardlow landed a solid left-handed jab to Ricky’s thrice-bruised ribs. They all stepped back as he dropped again to his knees, wheezing. He clawed at Wardlow’s shoes and pantleg.

“Stop! Please.” Esther pushed her way through till she could kneel beside him. Ares appeared at her side, baring his teeth at Joe when he reached for her. She ignored Ricky’s weak attempts to push her away. “Please. I’ll do anything. Just stop hurting him.”

“Anything?”

Occasionally, Esther had read in her penny novels where some character or another had looked at their co-star and had ‘nothing’ behind their eyes. She had wondered what ‘nothing’ would even look like. Now she wondered if she’d ever forget. No Chicago winter wind could have frozen her as much as his empty gaze. He had completely shut her out.

She did her best to fill her voice with a similar nothingness. “Anything.”

“No,” Ricky rasped. “Don’t worry about me. Spears, please, get her out of here.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” She kept her gaze level with Wardlow, catching Ricky’s hand from her shoulder, squeezing it in her lap. Kneeling in the shadow of him chilled her to the bone, but she refused to shiver.

He held her gaze. Ignoring Ricky’s scrabbling hand at his shoe, he said, “you should listen to your girl. She’s the smart one. If you can let me have just one night with your girl to prove your loyalty,” the side of his mouth quirked, “you’ll get to live. Or… we can take a trip out back.”

“Don’t-” Ricky ripped his hand from Esther’s lap and tried to stand. But he breathed too deep and collapsed from the strain in his ribs.

Esther swallowed. “A trip out back. Like with Dante Martin.”

That did startle Wardlow. Even Joe sucked in air.

Despite her best effort, a few tears dripped down her cheeks. “Yes. I saw. You were going to show mercy then. Actual mercy. But Joe pointed out he knew Spears followed us to Giovanni’s. You knew about Baker and Cole. You sent Ricky into a trap for it. But I brought him back. And I saw you shoot that boy. Point blank.” With a deep breath, she settled herself. “I kept it to myself. Didn’t even tell Ricky. But just keeping silent, being your eyes and ears will never be enough loyalty for you, will it? You’re one of the kings of Chicago. And that means you require action. Raised fists and guns, and boots on the ground. Yes, I’ll do anything. Anything to pause the bloodshed I can’t seem to escape. We all know what you’re asking of me.” She tightened her jaw. “I’ll do it.”

“Esther, no.” The man at her side took her face in his hands. “Not for me. Work a deal to go back to your folks. Get out of this life-”

“It’s just one night.”

His eyes filled with pity. “We both know it won’t be just that for you.”

Biting her lip, hoping it would stop her tears, Esther took his face in her hands, linking them together like an unsolvable knot. “But you’ll be alive.”

Before he could say another word, she pressed her lips to his forehead. Then, before she could talk herself out of it, she hurried to her feet. Wardlow still loomed over her, but at least the emptiness in his eyes was replaced with respect.

“Spears, show Miss Garnier to my room.” To his credit, Wardlow didn’t smile or leer at her in any way. “And Joe, make sure Starks doesn’t try to interfere. Don’t hurt him. As agreed.” He glanced down. “But don’t let him out of this room.”

Head held high, Esther felt Spears gently tap at her elbow.

“This way, Miss Garnier.”

He shut the double doors behind them on the way out. The front stairs soon loomed in front of them. Esther wondered if he was thinking about the times he’d helped her down those steps, as she was. They kept climbing. Up to the second floor. Past her curved corner room. And around the bend to the next flight. Then up again.

Spears cleared his throat. “This is a brave thing you’re doing. But, if you need it… there’s a fire escape on the other side of this floor-”

“I won’t.” Still, her footing slipped as the last step as she continued to think instead of watching her feet. “Just one thing. The only thing I can’t make sense of – what were those cards?”

“The rest of the deck that everyone’s been receiving from. It was missing the ones from your list.” He helped her to her feet. “Joe found them in the safe last night while you two were – were out.”

“The safe. Ricky’s safe?” She pursed her lips. That didn’t seem right.

In front of them, only one door existed at the far end of the hall. Esther realized that Wardlow’s suite was exactly over hers. As well as taking up the majority of the front floor.

\\*//

Down in the office, Ricky managed to struggle to his feet. He winced as Joe pinned him to the wall with one hand placed squarely on his chest.

Wardlow loosened his tie. “Why don’t you take a seat, Starks. Make yourself comfortable.”

“Don’t do this.” Ricky glared at Joe as he was shoved against the map. “If you do this, it’ll break her. Forget about me. You obviously don’t give a damn about what happens to me. But Esther… she’s hanging on by a thread. If you care about her as much as you claim to, then you won’t go through with this. She’s not some corner Sheba. Esther’s been this crew’s rock, she’s been your rock, since you brought her into this. You got her into this.” He shuddered a breath as Joe tossed him into a chair. “This is wrong, and you know it. Michael-”

But the boss was already halfway out the door. Taz met him there, placing his hand over his on the doorknob.

“I know I don’t get a say here, but – This is unlike you. I don’t think-”

“You’re right. You don’t get a say.” He fixed Taz with a stare. “I nearly lost everything by ‘acting like me.’ Not this time. It’s time to take control as I should have from the beginning. Now if you’ll excuse me,” he shook away Taz’s hand, “I have some business to handle.” With a final nod to Joe, he was gone.

Joe waited until he couldn’t hear Wardlow on the stairs anymore. He gave Ricky’s chest one more shove into the chair. Ares hurried forward. He took a stance between Ricky’s legs, his warning growl occasionally baring his teeth. Joe nodded at the dog and stepped away. “Mr. Taz, keep an eye on ‘im. We both know how slippery he is.” With purposeful steps, he moved to the desk, the safe behind the map, and various drawers and books around the office. At each one, he collected one document or another.

“Where are you off to?” Ricky stretched out the ache in his ribs. “I thought you were supposed to watch me.”

“Got a little business to handle at Howls. But you won’t go anywhere.” One by one, he placed the papers into Friedman’s briefcase. “I’d hate to hear when I got back that our fearless leader had to take out his frustrations on your girl because you couldn’t behave. Wouldn’t I?” When Ricky shook his head, disbelieving the threat, Joe arched an eyebrow at him. “No? Considering the last twenty minutes, I believe Mike’s finally capable of anything.” On a whim, he picked up a card and flicked it into Ricky’s lap. The same Jack of hearts as before. “Until next time, Starks.”

The door slammed shut, blocking Ricky in with his guilt and his former boss.

\\***//

Chapter 10: Never His

[deepdisireslonging]

Choices Chapter 8: Under the Gun

Wardlow sends Ricky out on a mission where he won't have back-up. It turns to the worst, and Esther won't take no for an answer. She steals the car to go after Ricky, ending up in hot water herself.

Warnings/Promises: gangster violence, blood, held at gunpoint, Esther in peril

Word Count: 5800

Chapter 7: Secrets and Threats

Sunday, February 24, 1929

Bridgeport Township

The morning broke cold and unyielding. Any native Chicagoan could look up at the sky and know that not a single snowflake would flutter. To the school-stuck children and downtown visitors, this was a travesty. To those who had to walk to and from work, it was a blessing.

Still, the grey light had been enough to wake Esther from her fitful sleep. She didn’t remember slipping into unconsciousness. But she remembered everything from the night before.

Britt Baker dropping the gun into her purse.

Ricky trapped outside of Giovanni’s, still as a statue because of something Adam Cole said.

The tenderness of Ricky’s kiss on her forehead.

Then, the shock of everyone in the parlor, armed to the teeth.

And… and poor Dante Martin.

The shot still rang in her ears as Esther headed down for breakfast. Like the night before, she hugged the wall as she descended. She paused halfway down before she’d be visible by anyone walking through the hallway. Downstairs, the gentle hum of conversation and the clinking of utensils rose to a feverish pitch that echoed in Esther’s mind. Her breath came out fast, and the floor spun beneath her.

“Miss Garnier?”

With a yelp, Esther flattened against the wall. A worried Shawn Spears raised his hands in defense. “Oh. Sorry, Mr. Spears. You startled me.”

His lips twitched with a grin. “So I noticed.” Though he held out his hand for support, Spears was understanding when she didn’t move. “Take all the time you need coming down. We’re all on edge, and I didn’t mean to scare you. Would you like me to leave-”

“No! Actually… please stay.” Esther did her best to even out her breathing. “I don’t know why I can’t seem to get my feet under me. I thought I’d be used to all,” she motioned vaguely before returning her hand to her chest, “all this by now.”

With a warm smile, Spears shrugged. “Considering the warm welcome we gave you last night, I wouldn’t blame you. Walking into a room full of guns will do that to you.” He waited patiently while she caught her breath. “Ready?” Again, he offered his arm.

When they reached the bottom of the stairs, Esther tensed to hear all of the voices. Including Wardlow’s. Absently, she kneeled as Ares trotted up to her side. She scratched behind his ears while staring into nothing. He bumped his wet nose into the bottom of her chin, bringing her back to the present. Still, she wondered if anyone else had heard the shot that night.

Spears mistook her trepidation. “If you like, I can have Mrs. Anne bring you up a tray-”

“Oh, no. I’ll be alright.” She didn’t move. Even when Ares gruffed at her.

“Miss Garnier,” Spears raised her to her feet, patting her hand. “We’re not going to let anything happen to you. Do you trust us?”

Esther flinched as Joe’s voice joined the fray. “Ye-yes. I trust you.”

She allowed him to lead them into the dinning room. It was filled the same way as last Sunday, spread with a delightful brunch. Like everything was normal. Like someone hadn’t been murdered on the back porch just hours ago. Like they weren’t under attack from an unknown assailant determined to bring down every underworld corporation. Had it really been only yesterday morning when Wardlow had given her and Ricky the day off? She tried not to think. Especially not about how much her life had changed in just twenty-four hours as she took her seat. Ricky removed a plate laid over another to reveal her usual breakfast, still mostly warm. He gave her hand a few squeezes as Wardlow finished his overview of the night before.

“Overall, we didn’t suffer as much as we could have. It’s a small setback. One we’ll recover from. But it’s going to take more time with all the other setbacks of late.”

His gaze lingered over Esther, making her shrink in her seat. While the image of him brandishing the revolver the night before flashed in her mind, she did her best to flash him a smile as proof that she was listening and keeping up. He nodded back.

“With two of us out, the rest of us are going to have to step up. Nobody goes anywhere without backup unless authorized by me or Joe.” He turned to Ricky. “Starks, you have one of those jobs. We’re sending you to Friedman and Co. I apologize for cutting your resting short, but we received some updates. Apparently, there is a physical list of the guys defecting to the Dealer as part of his new crew. Friedman might have a copy.”

Esther covered up her frown by poking at her eggs. She tossed Ares a scramble. Friedman?

With a matching crease in his brow, Ricky lowered his coffee cup with a clatter. “Friedman? Since when his he capable of keeping his mouth shut with such hot intel? And who said anything about a list?”

“Omega, by way of Martin. And Ethan Page was spotted at the attack last night.” Joe turned in his seat, daring Ricky to continue.

Which he did. “Page. Okay. Case solved. Page is part of the Poker Game. Why send me to Friedman country when I could probably pick Page up at one of his haunts and bring him here?” Ricky looked around. “And where is the kid? I haven’t seen him since yesterday.”

Esther froze.

At the head of the table, Wardlow and Joe avoided looking at each other.

“After sending you all out,” Joe said, “the two of us will be driving him back to Feathers.”

Wardlow stared Ricky down. “Do you want to be assigned somewhere else? Standing on some cold corner with a crewmate watching for trouble, perhaps?”

“No, no.” Ricky leaned back. “It’s just-” He smiled. “Do you not like me or something? Why do you keep sending me into enemy territory for information we don’t need, or already have?” Ricky was oblivious to how everyone bristled; his only focus was Wardlow. “I’m getting back by the skin of my teeth. One day it won’t be enough.”

“Then you better make it enough.” With a sign, he placed his hands flat on the table as he leaned. “I know it sounds round-about, sending you back to the same places. But if we can find out who is on this crew, maybe we can out the Dealer as well. And either include him in the families without further trouble, or, if he resists, take him out. The only way Joe was able to talk me into sending you by yourself is because you work faster without the extra weight. Do you want me to send Spears with you?”

Ricky shuffled in his seat. “No, Boss. I’ll, uh, finish my coffee and head out.”

“Take your time.” Wardlow tapped his knuckles on the table to keep Ricky’s eye contact. “Don’t rush this. Do it right and you’ll probably be home by suppertime. If you get caught snooping, I don’t have the manpower to help you out. You’re on your own. Understand?”

A level of realization washed over Ricky’s face. Within a blink, he looked completely calm. “I understand.”

“Alright. Everyone, finish your breakfasts and head out.”

Wardlow and Joe were out the door before Esther could ask what her task was. When returning her plate to the kitchen, she said as much. Mrs. Anne gave her shoulders a squeeze.

“Our task is laundry day. It gives us clean sheets at least. Or clean fabric for bandages if someone comes back for the worst.”

Ricky disappeared before Esther could talk to him too. Something about his demeanor at the end of breakfast worried her. He had given her forehead a lingering kiss before she headed to the kitchen, squeezing her tight to his torso, despite the soft hoots from crewmates. But once the laundry process began, she didn’t have room to ruminate on any of it. If anything, Esther welcomed the task. It gave her something to do with her hands. And it gave her room to relax again. While her muscles strained with the familiar task, the tension of the past several days melted away. A couple of hours passed this way: heating hot water, chatting with Mrs. Anne, and joining in with her to tease Mr. Jim.

When the back door opened, Wardlow and Joe could hardly enter for all of the fabric hanging off the back porch.

The Boss smiled at Esther as he stepped in. “Looks like the circus is in town.”

“And you’ll have to go join one if you put those greasy hands anywhere near my clean sheets, Mr. Wardlow.” Mrs. Anne tapped her stirring spoon on the inside of the large boiling pot. “You undo Miss Garnier’s and my work, and it’ll be you sweating over his task.”

Esther laughed at the bemused shock on his face. And again as he deftly slid his hands into his coat pockets, far away from the sheets.

At first, she thought it was the wind. But then the billowing fabric flew up, a few falling off the line, to reveal a huffing and puffing Spears.

“Mr. Spears, do you mind-” Mrs. Anne started.

“Sorry, Anne. But- they- they got Ricky.”

Esther dropped a wad of fabric back into the pot with a splash, drenching her skirt.

Face ashen, Wardlow slumped against the wall. He was unsurprised, and, terrifyingly to Esther, resolute. He exhaled slowly. “Starks knew the risk. How’s everyone else?”

Before Spears could answer, Esther sputtered, “that’s it? ‘He knew the risks’ so you’re just going to leave him there? You- you can’t do that. You three are here! Why don’t-”

“We won’t be enough.” Spears accepted the glass of water Mr. Jim handed him. Panting, he gulped it down. “Something’s got Friedman spooked. Everyone’s home… and armed to the teeth. Ricky would have seen that, but however it was, he still got nabbed.” Spears accepted her watery glare. “I’m sorry, Miss Garnier.”

No. This couldn’t be happening. Everyone else in the room was silent. All of them already in mourning. Besides Spears’s receding panting, and Esther’s quickening hyperventilating, only the boiling pots made a sound. The situation burned Esther more than the scent of lye in her nose. Several times she tried to start a defense. And each time, the words died in her throat. First one tear, then another, rolled hot and miserable down her cheek. Mrs. Anne gently took hold of her shoulders, her own chin wobbling.

“Your dress is soaked through, dear. How about we change you into another one before you catch cold?”

The dam broke.

“Are we just supposed to live on like normal? Like nothing has happened? They can’t leave him there,” Esther rasped. “They just can’t. What does Friedman want? Give it to him. Just get Ricky back.” With a sob, she let Mrs. Anne envelope her in a hug.

Over her head, Mrs. Anne pleaded silently with the Wardlow, boring her eyes into the deflected gazes of each of the leaders.

Speares cleared his throat. “They dragged him in. They- they didn’t… clip him in the street.”

“He’s probably still alive then.” Wardlow nodded. “Starks has gotten into tougher trouble before. He can get himself out.”

Joe rubbed his hand over the back of his neck. “Like he did last time?”

Still, nobody moved.

As the air rushed out of her lungs, Mrs. Anne’s shoulders slumped. “Come on, dear. Let’s get you upstairs.

“They can’t. They just can’t.” Esther continued to hiccup through her whispers. She took a deep ragged breath. “What is it all for? Haven’t we lost enough already?”

At the base of the stairs, Esther’s knees gave out. She fell onto the first step without a sound. Fluttering around, Mrs. Anne tried to rouse her. Esther’s single raised hand stopped her cold.

“I’m alright. I can make it from here.”

With gratuitous help from the banister, Esther made it to her feet. She managed her way up the stairs, oblivious to Mrs. Anne’s reactions or movements. With each step, a plan began to form. In her mind’s eye, she studied the map of Chicago, the territories. Too far to walk. She’d have to take a car. She ascended faster, her mind swirling. With Ricky taken, the men would probably have to leave soon to check the rest of the crew. She would have to move quick.

Changing her dress was easy. What gave her pause was taking Britt Baker’s gun into her hand. For its small size, it was heavy. But she’d held heavier boxes and bags of fruit. The weight of it in her pocket kept her focused as she grabbed the layers required to brave the cold. She paused in her doorway, stretching up her hand to the mezuzah. Just resting her fingerprint against the ש settled the plan in her mind. She would need the blessing if this was going to work.

Downstairs, the voices had thankfully drifted from the kitchen to the parlor. Wardlow was telling the Torrios to grab their pre-packed suitcases. They were being sent out of town until things blew over. Already, Joe had left to set up their arrangements. Esther had just sneaked into the kitchen when he told them they were to take Esther with them. To keep her safe. She ducked behind the icebox as Spears walked in the back door. The rumble of the car outside solidified that where Esther was planning to go, it was anything but safe. He shouted from the hallway that the car was ready, but Esther was already moving.

It took her a second to figure out how to shift gears. At first, she had to picture how Ricky had done it the night before. Without losing her resolve. The car started rolling just as Wardlow held open the doors for the Torrios.

“Esther?” His eyes widened. “Esther, wait!”

Biting her lip, she zoomed out of the alley. In the rearview, Wardlow chased the car for a few yards. She turned into the street. His face, worried beyond belief, hardened.

\\*//

Driving a gangster’s car through downtown Chicago was nothing like driving the grocer’s van to its deliveries.

This was faster. Other cars kept honking at her and waving angry obscene gestures. She didn’t see them. Not really. What she did see were the street signs. Hovering in her memory’s vision was the office map. Some streets were too narrow for the car or only one way, making her backtrack. Each second of delay gripped the base of her stomach like a fistful of nails. She did her best to keep breathing.

All of that focused oxygen sputtered out of her lungs when she pulled up outside Friedman and Co. The car blended in with the other nice vehicles of Chicago’s elite who showed up for their public spotlight of helping the poor. It was part of Friedman’s front. Soup kitchen in the front, distillery in the back.

The front steps were too steep for Esther’s wobbly legs. She walked into the side alley instead, aiming for the back door.

It was unlocked.

Taking a shaky breath, Esther fumbled for the gun in her pocket. She froze at the sound of heavy footsteps behind her, and the skittering of a kicked bottle.

Before she could scream, a thick arm wrapped around her throat. She struggled. But its grip was too tight. The grip stepped her into the building as her vision flickered out.

\\*//

Friedman and Company Soup Kitchen and Fresh Beginnings

Northside Riverfront

The world was rocking when Esther came to. Her throat hurt like never before. But when she tried to lift a hand to feel over her skin, her right hand was pinned down. She gasped as Ethan Page leered down at her.

“Did you have a nice nap?” He laughed easy, as if watching a kid trip into a mud puddle. “You’re awake just in time. Things are about to get interesting.” He stopped carrying her in front of a door. Gentle as it was, he still suddenly dropped her to her feet. With her arm trapped under his, Esther’s shoulder wrenched. It kept her too surprised to run. It wasn’t another five seconds before he had a strong arm around her waist and a gun to the back of her neck. “And thanks for the new piece.” He leaned close enough that Esther could feel his breath behind her ear. “It’s nice.”

A shout came from behind the door.

Although Esther dug in her heels, Page easily pushed her into the room. He had to lift her off her feet when she saw who the shout belonged to.

Ricky looked worse than she’d ever seen him. The eye that had been healing since they met was swollen and purple again. There was a trickling cut on his lip and his nose was bleeding too. Tied to a chair, his coat and waistcoat were gone, leaving plenty of white shirt to soak up his blood and sweat. He hadn’t noticed Esther yet as he was too busy glaring at the other occupants in the room.

She recognized the curly-haired Jack Perry. Sammy Guevarra. And Maxwell Friedman. A fourth man had his fist as the ready. He landed it into Ricky’s stomach over his bruised ribs.

“That all you got, Darby?”

Darby replied with another stiff punch.

“Hey, Boss. Look who decided to visit.” Page adjusted his grip on the gun, making her squeak. It caught Ricky’s attention, stopping him mid-bloody cough.

Esther shuddered a breath. “Hello, Darling.”

His shoulders slumped. “Hey, Sweetheart.”

A hand dropped on his shoulder, making him flinch.

“Aren’t you two adorable?” Friedman walked behind Ricky, placing both hands on his shoulders and kneading them roughly. “Just a few weeks and she’s already got you wrapped around her finger, doesn’t she?”

“Let her go, Maxwell.” Ricky’s chest heaved. “She doesn’t know anything, and she doesn’t need to see this. Please.” He grunted as Friedman dug his fingers into Ricky’s hair and tugged, yanking his head to one side.

Friedman’s face shifted from dangerous teasing to dangerously serious. “Then tell me what I want to know, and she can go home. Might even let her take you with her, since she went through all the trouble of coming to rescue you. All alone.”

Terrified, Ricky’s eyes went wide. “You shouldn’t have done that, Doll.”

Behind her, Page hummed into Esther’s hair. “But she did. You were such a lucky man, Starks.”

Full body quakes riddled Esther’s body as he shifted the placement of the gun from the back of her neck to run along the neckline of her dress. She struggled but couldn’t seem to form any words of defense. Neither could Ricky. He strained against the ropes. They dug into his wrists hard enough to make him wince. She wanted to tell him it would be okay. That help was coming. Wardlow may have been hesitant enough when Ricky was nabbed. But he had seen her drive off an had to know where she went. He would surely send help. Right?

“Oh,” Friedman snapped, remembering. “I didn’t mean to be rude. Can’t leave our precious guest in the dark. We were just discussing my visit to a certain automotive repair shop on the fourteenth. And you were there, weren’t you?” Digging his fingers into Ricky’s shoulder, he caught Esther’s eye. “Weren’t you? Those big brown eyes, taking in every bullet and twist of fabric. That’s how Wardlow was able to react so quickly. I was gunning for Joe. But just think; we could have met sooner.”

“You-” Esther fought to catch her breath. “It was your plan. But the card… you’re not the Dealer.”

“No. He’s just an associate of mine. How’d you riddle all that?”

“You’re not smart enough.”

A grin quirked at the side of Ricky’s mouth.

But Friedman’s sneer deepened. “Really? Not like you or Wardlow were faring any better. That card was enough to throw you off the trail, even if that hadn’t been my purpose. I thought I was returning the favor for services rendered on a few of my crew and three of my suppliers. It’s really hard to run a soup kitchen when someone kept clipping my grocers,” he whined. “But we didn’t know about the Dealer back then. We thought your boss and Omega were moving in for a takeover.” His sneer shifted into a businessman’s oily smile. “But now… I have to appreciate his methods.”

Esther’s mind spun. If he had shot Bill and the others, but it wasn’t the Dealer… working with him. Him. Which also ruled out Baker, Cargill, and Hart. She looked at Ricky, tied down as he was. “Then what is this all for? What do you even want?”

“I want him,” Friedman shoved Ricky’s head away, “to tell me the locations of Wardlow’s fronts. The ones that aren’t finished yet.” He punched Ricky in the jaw to punctuate his demand.

“Why?”

“Because-” Ricky spat out a glob of blood. “Mr. Friedman wants to eliminate his biggest rival and thorn in his side in one swoop. All it would take was one fast-moving chopper squad. And then he can go it for the kill.”

Esther pictured the front of Howls, the two she knew. And the businesses on either side that had nothing to do with the racket. She thought about the Torrios leaving the house and Joe and Wardlow going out. “But… Wardlow and Joe might not be at the places when you hit them. They could be looking at prospective locations, or at the house. All of those innocent people around just trying to make a buck.”

“Don’t worry about the house. It’ll be the last stop. As for the others… consider them collateral damage.”

“Murderer,” Esther spat. As she struggled, Page floundered to keep her from launching, hands ready as knives. When Friedman laughed, setting off a chorus of snickers from his crew, Esther dug for a way to jab him. “What about אל תהרוג, do not kill?”

“You’re a fine one to talk, considering the company you keep.”

Ricky watched Friedman step closer to Esther, fist tight at his side. And he watched her shrink back. “I’m not a killer.” He straightened in his chair as Friedman whirled around. “Unlike you.”

A knowing smile smeared across his face. “Oh, we know. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be in this mess.”

Confusion knit Ricky’s brow. Realization seeped in, draining away the remaining blood in his face. “What could you know… about-” He shook away the blurriness in his vision. “You’re still two steps behind. Or did your ‘associate’ fail to mention that he hit us last night already?” He grinned when Friedman’s shoulders tensed. “Some associate. Always beating you to the punch.”

Esther steeled herself to watch Ricky be punched again. Instead, he received a loud, sharp, open-handed slap across the face. It took her back to Joe doing the same to Martin. She couldn’t help but hear the shot reverb in her head again. It made her shiver in Page’s grasp. She knew what was coming next. And, looking into Ricky’s eyes, so did he.

Everything happened so fast. With a nod from their boss, Perry and Darby stalked behind their captive. Darby wrapped an arm around Ricky’s throat. He struggled, eyes squinting as he realized how loose the grip was. Then he heard Perry slowly loading his revolver. He made eye contact with Esther when she whimpered. He watched as Page’s hand slid over her mouth while the gun pressed into her ribs to keep her in place.

Friedman pulled out a pocket watch. He watched the seconds tick by, then wound it. “Only one of Wardlow’s places got hit last night. Where are the others?” He replaced the timepiece.

“You’re scared of him. The Dealer isn’t going to hurt you less just because you helped take down Wardlow.” Ricky never took his eyes off Esther.

“I’m going to count to ten. One.”

Perry flicked the chamber into place. Esther closed her eyes. She prayed this was a dream. She hoped she’d wake up on the morning of February fourteenth and could remember to avoid walking to Bill’s shop.

“Two.”

A tear rolled down her cheek.

“Three.”

“Esther. Esther, cherie, look at me.”

She managed to crack open her eyes. His warm, dark gaze steadied her trembling.

“Four.”

Ricky glared at Friedman for a second. He refocused on Esther. “The Boss knows you’re here, yeah?” When she nodded, he nodded back. “He’ll come get you. Okay? You’re going to be-” He cut off as Perry dug the gun into the back of his neck.

“Five. Go on, Ricky. Tell your girl it’s gonna be okay.” Friedman walked over. He ignored her flinch as he wiped the tears off her cheek. “I’d hate to show her how you bruise like a peach.” He flicked the droplets into the room. “Six.”

Even when Darby tightened his grip, Ricky grit his teeth and kept trying to distract Friedman. “Let her go, Maxwell. Do what you want with me. Wardlow’s been trying to get rid of me for a while. I was a dead man walking when I woke up this morning. You’ll be doing him a favor. But if anything happens to her, there’s no place in this world where you could hide.”

“I know.” He shrugged. “Lucky me, having the lynch-pin for the both of you right here. Of her own accord! You’ve got the best eyes and ears in the city, Starks. But sometimes I think you’ve been the most blind how much this girl means to your boss. Where was I? Oh, seven.”

Esther stared at him incredulously.

“You can’t be shocked, sugar.” He huffed a laugh. “What micki-fins have you been hittin’ this girl with? Don’t worry, Doll. We’ll get you back to Wardlow. With a gift between your ribs. Unless your boy starts talking. Eight.”

Ricky arched in his chair, nearly toppling it. Darby shifted his hold. He roughly dragged away Ricky’s tattered tie and shoved it between Ricky’s teeth, pulling it tight. Friedman nodded approvingly.

Esther suddenly breathed deep. And eerie calm settled into her spine. Gently, she dragged Page’s hand away from her mouth. “Darling?” Her lips trembled as Ricky stilled. “It’s okay. I’m just one person. You don’t have to tell him. I understand. Protect them. The people working for Wardlow and any boss. The people like me just trying to survive. It’s okay.”

He shuddered all over, shaking his head.

“It’s okay.”

They wished time would suspend.

“Nine.”

“Christ, Friedman. Don’t be so sadistic.”

Everyone tensed as a set of heels walked into the room.

Esther breathed a sigh of something akin to relief. “Mrs. Baker?”

Britt Baker gave her a kind smile. “Every time I see you, you’re in more trouble than I thought possible.” She nodded around. “Interesting company you keep. What’d you do with my present?”

She glanced down to her side where Page still had the gun pressed tightly into her ribs.

Baker shot a glance at Ricky. “That iron sure does exchange hands a lot. Some gift.” She primped her hair. “Friedman, haven’t I warned you about using Garcia as your doorman before? You’d be safer with a bluebird at your front door, as much as that boy’s head is in the clouds.”

With a non-committal humph, Friedman crossed his arms. “Is he alright?”

“He’s fine. Just taking a snooze.”

He rolled his eyes, passing a hand over his face. “I’ll… remedy that later. You got something for me?”

Esther became hyperaware of the briefcase in Baker’s possession. Confused, she watched it exchange hands. Small and black, it looked like any other business briefcase. She wondered if it was the Poker Game list or something else. Friedman smoothed his hand over the leather, obviously wanting to take a peek. But he set it to one side.

“Don’t hurt yourself trying to make sense of it all, Esther.” Baker froze Friedman in place with a glare. “There will be a reckoning for his moves against me.” She didn’t bother to hide her smile as Friedman reached a shaking hand into his jacket pocket, handing her the thick envelope he found there. “Luckily for him, he pays well.”

After a nervous clearing of this throat, Friedman shot Esther a smile. “See what you could have had? You should have accepted the job, Sugar.”

It was Baker’s turn to roll her eyes. Despite the circumstances, Esther appreciated that they were on the same page about him. She winked at Esther. Turning towards the crew, Britt nodded at Darby. “Adam requested I get your answer. With Ricky out of the way, and unable to defend his old boss’s haunt, will he see you tonight at the meeting?”

The taciturn man bristled. But he nodded.

“I’ll let him know. Miss Garnier-” she sadly let her empathy shine through. “I hope you find a way out of this. If you do… you know how to find me.” She tipped her fingers off her forehead, bidding the room farewell. “Gentlemen. Miss Garnier.” And she was gone.

Friedman glared such a wintery glance at Darby that the man’s face paled, giving his hollow cheeks a skeletal look. “I don’t care who’s in the Poker Game, but keep me in the loop, yeah?” He waited for Darby’s short, sharp nod. Only then did he turn to flash a warm smile at Esther. “And I mean that. We’re all business partners here. How’d you like him, by the way? The Dealer. He’s the one who welcomed you into my humble kitchen.”

She wasn’t able to fumble through an answer as the information hit her like a stone to the forehead.

“Oh, that’s right.” He tapped a knuckle between his eyebrows. “He put you to sleep before you got a look. Ah, well. What can you do?” Settling the briefcase further to one side, he eyed it warily. “Now where were we? Oh, yes. Nine. Anything to say, Starks?”

Ricky’s struggle began anew. But Darby pulled the tie tight, keeping Ricky’s back flat against the chair. Behind them, Perry stepped back, distancing himself from the impending mess. The struggle was mirrored between Esther and Page, who shifted his hold on her to around her shoulders. She was too shocked by everything to cry. Still, her chest heaved, and her knees wobbled. She hated that her captor’s grip was the only thing keeping her on her feet. To the side, Guevarra cocked his gun too, though Esther wasn’t sure why.

“Ten.”

The gun dug into her ribs. A shot rang out. Ricky screamed her name behind his gag.

Seconds passed.

She didn’t feel cold. She didn’t feel heat. If anything, all Esther felt was confusion. She didn’t feel the pain she expected of being shot. Her eyes darted to look for the gunpowder smell assailing her nose.

Guevarra’s gun was the one that was smoking. And there was a hole in the floor.

“Hmm.” Friedman rolled back his shoulders. “You didn’t faint. My deepest apologies, Miss Garnier. You’re a stronger woman than I gave you credit for.”

Her wobbly legs begged to differ.

“What?” Ricky panted as Darby loosened the gag. He was jubilant that they were in one piece, but-

“Don’t be so green, Starks,” Guevarra snickered. “How were we gonna use Miss Garnier against Wardlow if we plugged her? Too bad about you not spilling your guts over her passed out body though.” He raised his gun. “Too bad.”

With a laugh, Page held the gun next to Esther’s head and pulled the trigger. It clicked, several times, empty. It made Esther flinch every time.

It wasn’t loaded. He must have taken out the bullets when she was out cold earlier.

It wasn’t loaded.

If there was a plan, her brain didn’t tell her. Placing one foot back like Mary once showed her, Esther bent at the waist and pulled as hard as she could on Page’s arm. Unbalanced, he toppled over with a yelp of surprise. His personal gun peeked out from under his jacket. Esther grasped the handle of it, ripping it from the holster and pulling the trigger. Page howled as a hole erupted in his thigh. Teeth chattering and body quaking like San Francisco, Esther pointed the gun in Friedman’s direction.

“Untie him.”

Every man’s mouth dropped open, including Ricky’s. She was aware that Guevarra was now aiming at her, but the gun was mostly pointed at the floor in shock. Friedman’s head cocked to one side. He chuckled.

“Do as she says.”

She hazarded a glance at Ricky as he was able to massage his wrists. “Can- can you walk?” The gun’s shaking made it clack in her hands.

With a nod, Ricky struggled to his feet. He kept a close eye on Guevarra and the man at his back. He snagged the briefcase on his way to her side. Winking at Page, he also retrieved her gun.

“That’s three times you’ve surprised me, Sugar.” Friedman honored her with a bow. “יברך ה' את צעדיך.”

May the Lord bless your steps.

“And may the Devil bless yours.” As Ricky’s hand slid into place at her lower back, her shaking ceased. He guided them out the door Page had dragged her through.

Friedman called after them, “let me know how that hero’s welcome goes for you, Starks!”

A minute later they were in the alley and running towards the street.

They both gave a shout as a figure stepped into their path, blocking out the light from the street.

“Joe!” Esther lowered the gun to her side.

“Esther.” Joe’s head cocked to one side. “Starks?” Shaking away his shock, he waved them towards the car. “Hop in the back. I’ll get it started.”

Ever the gentleman, Ricky shoved her in first before crawling into the floor beside her. They huddled together out of sight from the windows as Joe coaxed the car to life. Ricky gently removed the gun from her hands. His tired palms enveloped her shaking ones.

When Joe finally took the front seat, Ricky asked, “what took you so long?”

“She took the car. Had to hail a cab.” He glanced back once he had the vehicle underway. “I can’t wait to hear this story.” He laughed to himself all the way home.

Esther wanted to cry. She wanted to kiss Ricky all over. But all she could manage was to quake and hold him as close as his injuries would allow.

He kissed her forehead. “We’re fine. You did great, mon cher. We’re okay. The worst is probably over. You’re okay.” He kept his cheek pressed against her forehead all the way back to the house.

\\***//

Chapter 9: The Ultimatum

[deepdisireslonging]

Choices Chapter 6: Days of Rest

Wardlow gives Ricky the day off, who immediately invites Esther to join him. Their date that evening is interrupted by another gang leader and someone that makes Ricky look like he's seen a ghost.

Warnings/Promises: food mention, alcohol, gun appearance

Word Count: 3500

Chapter 5: Meeting After the Meeting 

Saturday, February 23, 1929

Bridgeport Township

Despite the tea indulgence the night before, coffee was in order the morning after. Even when working at Howls, Esther had never managed to work herself up to a hangover.

This must be what it feels like. And this is why Shabbat starts at nightfall the evening before; so you’re not exhausted for the day of rest.

The sunlight streaming between her curtains forced her to squint through most of getting dressed. Like sugar through molasses, she tried to get herself together. She was tempted to stay in her house shoes to go down for breakfast, but decided against it at the last minute. Also on her befuddled mind, was the mystery of who carried her to bed. The safe answer would have been Joe or Mr. Spears. And while Ricky would have huffed and puffed though carrying her with his injured ribs, she really hoped he hadn’t.

She wasn’t sure how to feel with the knowledge that is had probably been Wardlow carrying her up.

Stumbling into the wall, she would have tripped down the stairs if Mr. Spears hadn’t caught her arm.

“Was that actually tea in your cup last night,” he asked, guiding her, “or did Mrs. Anne slip you a hot toddy?”

“It was tea.”

They reached the bottom of the stairs where the breezeway was already open. Ares was waiting for her, gruffing at her until she knelt to give him his morning greeting. Spears nodded knowingly as she rested her head against the wall. “Late nights will do that to ya.’ You’ll get used to them. Other than that, how’d you sleep?”

She grinned. “I didn’t know I was asleep until I woke up this morning.”

“That good? Well- how about some victory breakfast for surviving yesterday?”

The kitchen occupants were moving in a sluggish fashion like Esther. A few of them had short glasses for a bite of the dog. A phrase that usually cost you a scramble of egg from Ares if he heard you. Ricky was hunched over his cup of steaming coffee like it was a life raft. He at least looked rested, and halfway still asleep.

Joe and Wardlow apparently hadn’t slept a wink. Alert as ever, Joe was still a few extra seconds in noticing Esther entered. He eyed Wardlow out of the corner of his view, knowing what she saw would worry her. The boss was, again, looking over Esther’s notes. Her notebook was open on the icebox by the window, which he was leaning against. In his hand was her card list. His eyes, shadowed by dark bags underneath, flicked back and forth between the clusters of information. His breakfast, two pieces of buttered burnt toast and a cup of coffee, were untouched.

“Mornin’, ma cher.” Ricky gave her a nod. He was sitting at the only table in the room. Esther felt guilty taking the only remaining chair while everyone else hazarded to sway on their feet. But she took it. He reached over, giving her hand a squeeze and her knuckles a kiss before rising to his feet. “Let me grab you a plate. Toast and eggs, right?”

“Yes, please.”

“Coffee?”

She nearly moaned with delight. “Yes. Just milk, if there is some.”

“Of course.”

He was off like a shot, darting from one side of the kitchen to the other. All while dodging the other crewmembers who glared at him if he bumped into them too much. If she hadn’t known about his injuries, she would have never known by watching him.

She glanced at the window-side of the room. “Morning, Mr. Joe. Mr. Wardlow.” She tried smiling when he finally looked up.

“Good morning, Miss Garnier.” His gaze lingered, but slid back to the papers. The small sip of coffee made him wince at its coldness. Clearing his throat, he sat down his cup. “Is this everyone?”

Ricky slid into his seat, passing Esther her plate.

Joe grunted.

With a deep exhale, Wardlow finally laid the notes to one side. “All things considered, yesterday was a success. We got a lot of information. Which is just what we were looking for. The attack last night raised a few new questions, but we’ll riddle them out soon. Starks-”

“Yeah, Boss.”

“Got a few things for you to look into in a few days. But rest up before.”

With a smirk, Ricky sipped his coffee. “I’m starting to resent being your point guard.”

“Take it as a compliment that you’re so good.”

“Then you really don’t mind if I slack off?”

“Not at all. The next few days are yours.”

“Great.” He immediately turned to Esther. “What plans do you have tonight?”

She stammered, “whatever you’re doing. I guess.”

Wardlow, leaning back, tapped his thumb against the top of the icebox. The tilt of his head, paired with the crease in his brow, created a dark cloud over his features. He breathed it away. “You’ve done an excellent job, Miss Garnier. I hope you enjoy your evening. Don’t let anything happen to our best girl, right, Starks?”

“I thought you just said I was so good?” Ricky pouted.

Esther giggled, and shot Wardlow a wink. “You’re good,” she said to Ricky, “but I’m excellent.”

Again, Wardlow had to breathe away his reaction. But he still passed his thumb across his bottom lip. “She’s got a point.” His smile momentarily broke through before he set his shoulders and returned to business. “As for the rest of us, we will be delivering Miss Garnier’s notes to our associates. Don’t take chances but keep your eyes peeled. Some of their stories aren’t lining up, and anything extra you notice should help.” He pushed off the icebox to his feet. “Joe will assign you your territories in an hour.”

As he left, Joe glanced at the untouched toast and cold coffee. Esther could have sworn she saw him smile and shake his head, but he flicked open that morning’s paper over his face, blocking her view. The front page was covered in stories about the attack at Eighth and Vine, and also two other attacks. And one small square of text about some funding for a new hospital wing.

“So, where would you like to go tonight?” Ricky scooted back his chair. “Do you like Italian, or are you a strictly Matza ball soup kinda girl?”

“I do like certain dishes. But I take it you haven’t found a Creole place up here?”

He scrunched up his nose. “Nah. I don’t think my crawfish and gumbo would be kosher for you anyway. Haven’t found any beignets yet either. But cannoli are an okay second.”

They continued to make plans while the rest of the crew finished their breakfast. Mrs. Anne was observing the Sabbath, so there weren’t any chores she’d let Esther help with. She took it upon herself to create a cozy space in the parlor. Armored with blankets, a lot of tea that Spears made for her, and a crackling fire stoked by Joe before they left, she happily read the day away with a book. Her mind traveled far away from Chicago. Instead of her own adventurous life, she let the adventures of David Levinsky take over her afternoon till dark.

At four-thirty, Esther went up to her room to change into something nice. The sun went down during her preparations. Promptly at six, Ricky was waiting for her at the bottom of the stairs. His eyes lit up as she turned the corner to the first few steps. She took her time descending, reveling in the shiver his gaze gave her.

It’s like he knows what I look like without my slip on.

The easy flirting was interrupted by a young team member, Dante Martin, thundering down the stairs. He squeezed by with a quick, ‘scuse me,” and barely a glance at Esther. Halfway down the steps, he froze. And turned, making Esther’s face warm. Martin whistled and waggled his eyebrows at Ricky. “Have fun, kids,” he said on his way past Ricky. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

“I’ll make my own luck, thank you.” Ricky exchanged soft false punches with the young man. “Stay outta trouble, yeah?”

“Me?” Martin glanced once more at Esther as she reached them. “I should be telling you that.” He headed toward the kitchen.

Alone again, Esther nodded after him. “Nice young man. Is he new too? I haven’t seen him much.”

“He’s on loan from some ally or another. One of the information runners between companies until this Dealer gets shuffled out.” He held up his elbow. “Shall we?”

Esther smiled. “Let’s.”

\\*//

Giovanni’s, Neutral Territory

A short while later, Ricky pulled the car (one not riddled with bullet holes) into an available spot in front of the restaurant. The afternoon was already dark as night, giving the warm glow for shops and eateries a friendly brightness as the light poured into the street. They each welcomed in passerby’s. Even the herbs used in the cooking drifted into the street every time the doors opened. Esther took a big whiff, tugging her coat tighter around her. The crisp air made the restaurant seem all the warmer.

Before Ricky could reach for the door, another hand opened it. “After you.”

“Thank you.” Esther gave the man a smile, then bumped into Ricky.

He was frozen in place. Like he’d seen a ghost. Esther’s confusion melted away into terror as Britt Baker stepped into view. She looked like any girl out on the town, dressed in her best dress and hair waved to perfection. If Esther hadn’t seen her brandish a knife just a day ago, she would have believed the innocence on display.

She smiled warmly at Esther and dipped her head to Ricky. “Fancy meeting you here.” She glanced at her companion, who held his hand out to Ricky.

He took it, hesitation twinged with accusation. “Yeah. Fancy that.”

The man took his hand back. He wiped it on his sleeve and coat front as if ridding his skin of a layer of oil.

Baker sucked her teeth at him. “Be polite.” Turning her attention back to the pair, she introduced him. “You’ll have to forgive Mr. Cole. Adam’s been busy with work lately and I’m just now re-introducing him into society. Now let’s all get inside out of the cold.”

It surprised Esther how gentle Baker was with this man. She let him open the door for her. As she walked in, her dress glittered and softly swished around her knees. Cole’s hand rested easy on her lower back as he guided her inside. It was a sharp difference from the way Ricky’s hand twitched at the base of Esther’s spine. He kept an urgent eye on the bustling restaurant in front of them, and on the brave walkers outside. He bristled further as Baker requested a table for four. His unease began to rub off on Esther as the consignor took their coats.

They were led to a booth in the back corner. Ricky maneuvered so he could guide Esther into the inside seat facing the room. But Baker slid in next to her. Adam shrugged when he grit his teeth, taking the inside of the opposite seat. Esther realized that while Ricky would at least have the outside, good for a quick exit, he wouldn’t be able to see the front door. And she was blocked in by Baker.

“So,” Ricky slid into his seat, smoothing down the lapels of his vest, “where’s your entourage tonight?”

“My husband and I wanted a night to ourselves.”

Esther startled. “Husba- but I thought- if you’ll excuse me, Mrs. Baker. I thought you were a-well…”

“A widow?” Baker fidgeted with the bracelet peeking out from under her sleeve. “Yes. A rumor I am happy to squash. And please, we are friends here. Call me Britt. As for the entourage, Adam and I are enough. I would ask you the same question. You have any back-up nearby, Starks?”

“I’ve got us covered.” He patted his vest, smoothing down the fabric enough to show the bulge of his handgun.

Britt rolled her eyes. “That’s comforting.” She turned to Esther. “Open your purse.” When Esther hesitated, she chuckled. “I have a gift for you. How bad could it be? There’re so many people around.”

Hands shaking, Esther placed her purse on the edge of the table and popped open the top. She gasped as Britt brandished a small pistol from her dress pocket, and dropped it in. Across the table, Adam ran a hand through his hair and exhaled slowly.

“Jesus, Britt. Could you be any more obvious?”

She winked at him. “I probably could. But who’s going to say anything?” Her gaze swept across the room, daring any witnesses to make eye contact. “Everyone knows who we are.”

“That’s what we’re concerned about.” Adam leaned back in his seat as a perky waiter showed up to take their order.

Britt ordered for all of them. It made Adam smile in amusement, while Ricky griped the edge of the table like he wished it would crumple easy as paper. But Esther was impressed. Their unlikely host had ordered exactly what she wanted.

“I’m a good read of people. And their habits.” Brit thanked the waiter as he dropped off a wine bottle with glasses, and small glasses of water. “I figured Starks would be here, as a respite for a job well done for your boss. I hoped he would bring you with him.” She nudged into Esther’s shoulder. “And I’m glad he did.”

Ricky flashed a smile at Adam, full of alligator teeth. “So, now that we’re all armed and friendly, what piece did you bring to dinner?” He watched Adam smooth his knuckles over the center edge of his vest. “No. That’s right. You’re not a fan of bullets. You’re more of a knife guy. Good for target practice between shoulder blades.”

“You would know. You were my biggest competitor in the role.”

Esther felt Britt’s boot flash out. If she connected with her husband’s shin, he didn’t show it more than a flirting wink at his wife.

The purse at Esther’s side radiated danger. It set her teeth on edge. After clearing her throat, her voice still came out strained. “While I appreciate the gift, Mrs. Baker,” she paused to catch her breath again, “I really can’t accept it. How would you like me to – uh- return the umm, the-”

“Nonsense, dear. Keep it, please. In this line of work, you’ll need it. Chicago is a dangerous place for women like us. We have to look out for one another.”

Jade Cargill’s disdain for Britt’s “help” drifted through Esther’s mind like a waft of spices. Vibrant and unavoidable as burnt cardamon, but soon gone and forgotten.

Britt set her gaze on Ricky. “You’ll especially need it around him. Mr. Starks attracts trouble. I should know. I’ve given him the business a few times. By the way, have your knees recovered?”

“They’re just fine,” Ricky replied through teeth gritted into a sharp smile.

“Good to hear.”

Adam snorted. “And you’re telling me to behave.” His blue eye glittered as Britt flirted him a pseudo-sneer.

Their food arrived. Steaming and spiced to perfection, the barely hidden animosity melted away. The conversation drifted around the weather, and lack of snow. The residual cold. And they chatted about the construction projects around the city. No one wondered or revealed who may or may not have been involved in those constructions. Or their funding.  And, between bites, Esther noted all she could. How Adam kept his left hand always close to his waistcoat. His wife kept the conversation flowing, but her gaze would flick towards the door and restaurant’s occupants every few seconds. Esther had to keep her hands from shaking every time she lifted her fork to her mouth. As for Ricky, he avoided the wine. It was surely brought to the table to show that Baker was not afraid to purchase and drink alcohol in the open. If she wasn’t afraid of arrest, then she wasn’t afraid of anything Ricky could do. Out of politeness, he would bring up the glass for a sip, but not a drop passed his lips. He sat it on the outside of his plate so that the reflection in the glass gave him a similar view of the room as Britt. Which he checked often.

When the plates were cleared away, Ricky was further perturbed when their host took the cheque.

She grinned at Esther. “Consider it another welcoming present to the business.” She stood first, activating everyone’s movement towards the door.

Not to be outdone this time, Ricky was first to the door. He opened it with a flourish. But Adam passed through next, shutting it behind him and closing Esther into the restaurant with his wife. Ricky began to protest, but Adam’s calm voice, muffled by the door, said something that held Ricky in rapt attention.

“So,” Britt adjusted the scarf around her neck, ��why are you here?”

The words caught in Esther’s throat before tumbling out. Wardlow and Joe’s warning hadn’t prepared her nearly enough. “Tonight? We both had the night off and Ricky suggested-”

“No. You know what I mean.”

She took another breath, looking through the door. Ricky was in quiet conversation with Adam, his brow creased. “By accident, I assure you. It’s all happened so fast-” She startled as Ricky caught her watching him. His eyes flicked toward Britt, noting their conversation, and his frown deepened. “Um, so fast, that I don’t understand how myself.”

Britt hummed. “Yes. This life can spring on you.”

Outside, Adam stepped in front of the door. It blocked both parties from viewing the other. And prevented Ricky from bursting in.

“It’s been wonderful to finally make your acquaintance,” Britt continued. “When I received a copy of your notes… I was very impressed, I have to say. You’ll be wasted with Wardlow.”

“What’s it to you?” Esther shivered as Britt’s eyes flashed with irritated surprise. “That is… I have a roof over my head, and I’m making good money. I appreciate your looking out for me. But you needn’t worry about me. I am well taken care of.”

“I’m sure.”

Esther held her breath as she mirrored Britt putting on her gloves.

“If you ever change your mind, just come here and tell Lucas.” She nodded at their waiter, “and he’ll get word to me to pick you up.”

“But I thought this- but I thought this was neutral territory?”

“It is. Means it’s a good place to hide out if you’re ever in trouble.” She pushed lightly on the door, moving Adam so they could exit. “This was nice. We should do this again sometime. Perhaps when it’s warmer.”

Adam offered Britt his arm. He nodded at the other man. “Until next time, Ricky.”

“Until next time.”

The couple walked down the sidewalk into the night. Their bodies, close in familiarity and  against the cold, passed in and out of the lightened shop fronts like illuminated shadows.

Ricky lightly placed his hand on Esther’s lower back, walking her to the car. He opened her door but held lightly onto her arm. “What was that about?”

“Nothing of consequence.” Esther’s heart threatened to thunder into her throat.

Ricky swallowed hard. “Did she offer you a job?”

Now she had to smile. “I’m not going anywhere.”

It was enough for him to let her sit down. And for his cheeks to shine with more than the cold when sat in the driver’s seat. He motioned for her purse. She popped it open so he could easily pull the gun out. When it was in his hands, he let it rest. Esther assumed he was testing the weight and seemed familiar with its type. He blinked rapidly. Glancing around first, he dropped it back into her bag.

“It’s a good piece. I hope you never get the opportunity to use it.” Despite the warning, a smirk tugged at the side of his mouth. He whistled as he guided the car into the night’s traffic. “You’re moving faster than me, Cherie. If I’m not careful, you’ll bypass my plans.”

“What plans could you possibly have?” She laughed high and free, finally feeling like she could breathe again now that it was just the two of them. She leaned back in her seat as he maneuvered deftly between other cars. “Why can’t we all stay where we are?”

“Wardlow’s not going to keep me around forever. We’ve talked. I’ve got plans, big ones. Plans where I get to say where I go and how I spend my days.” He drifted into silence. “But those are a long way off. Gotta stick around to see what all you’ll accomplish first.”

They rode home amused by the surprise hosts and amused by each other’s company.

\\***//

Chapter 7: Secrets and Threats

[deepdisireslonging]

Choices Chapter 5: Meeting After the Meeting

The team goes over Esther's notes from the Bull Session. They riddle out several realizations, and are confused by inconsistencies. Wardlow carries Esther to bed when she falls asleep in his office.

Warnings/Promises: food mention, discussion of gangster violence

Word Count: 2000

Chapter 4: Bull Session 

Friday, February 22, 1929

Bridgeport Township

Esther spent the next several hours writing up copies of her notes. The chart she created drew Wardlow, and later Joe’s attention. But they left her undisturbed while she sketched things out. At one point, she asked for pins and permission to add them to the Chicago map behind the wall. Wardlow watched, intrigued, as she poked them into the cork-backed paper.

There wasn’t a pattern there. Not in the collection of the cards, or even just for the ones for the Coatmakers. During the mutual debriefing, they shared that the cards showed up at the locations for their… tailoring appointments. Esther hesitated to think of the jobs as anything else. The cards were waiting there for them, and often times, the police knew where and when to show up almost before they were done with the job.

“Somebody was either peaching from the inside, or from inside their patrons.”

“Peaching?” Esther turned as Wardlow hummed.

“Ratting someone out. A peach is an informant. Unless we’re talking about a dame. Then it’s a term of endearment.” He reached over and chucked her chin.

She cleared her throat to cover up how much she wanted to blush. To distract herself, she continued to point out the inconsistencies. “Mrs. Baker’s attacks seem entirely random. All the ones she listed have been raids and demolitions at businesses in the neutral blocks. And, where Jericho’s attacks had injured or killed several people, Friedman’s were only arrests.”

“Makes Jazzies look unsafe.” Joe drifted back into the room after a quick errand. He looked down to give Ares a rub between his ears as Wardlow created some distance between himself and Esther. “And while Friedman relies on his public image…”

“The arrests make him look bad,” Wardlow finished with a smile. “If this Poker Dealer wasn’t interfering with us, I’d send them a gift basket.”

Esther nodded, flipping through her notebook. “And it explains why Jericho’s hiding Friedman’s… stock. Right? The police impound and destroy any alcohol they collect. Friedman would never be able to get it back. But whoever is attacking Jericho isn’t after his casino. Not directly.”

“He’s after Jericho’s public image, in a way. Burying the idea that Jericho’s police connection is any help.” Joe scrunched up his brow. “Why doesn’t Jericho use his police connections to protect Friedman?”

“Secretly hoping he’ll go under?” Esther asked under her breath. When the men laughed softly, she raised an eyebrow at them. “What? I’ve only met him once, and he’s incredibly unpleasant. And pushy.” While they laughed again, with her voice included, Esther adjusted some of the pins on the map. With everyone’s attacks specialized in one way or another, the raids and arrests, and the Valentine’s murders… it all looked random. She muttered out loud, “it’s like you’re an afterthought. No offense.”

“None taken.”

A shiver ran down her spine with the glance the men shared over her head. “What is it?”

Joe scratched under his jaw. “They’ve seen her face. She needs to know.”

Slowly, Esther shifted to face Wardlow. “I need to know what?”

He eased out a breath. “While you were stuck fighting off Maxwell… there were a lot of inquiries floating around about you. How you joined our crew; what your duties were. Really, they were sniffing out how much you knew about our business.” He traced his thumb over his bottom lip, failing to hide his proud smile. “Starks said you told Maxwell our books were doing really well.”

Joe’s face lit up with surprise. “She did? Huh.” He gave her an impressed grin. “Thanks for that.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Everyone was expecting us to make a bid for Taz’s land. But we’ve been hit so hard, we couldn’t afford to. Even to help a friend.” He shrugged. “We can play off our silence as host neutrality, as you put out there.”

Esther still winced. “It won’t make the others think we’re the… the Dealer? Especially since our events are so scattered?”

“No.” Wardlow glanced over a copy of her notes. “We’ve still been hit hard. And the fourteenth’s attack clears us.” As he dropped the sheet onto her stack, the weight of the meeting dropped back onto his shoulders. “I won’t lie to you. We know our information is getting out from someone on the inside. Let Joe and I worry about that. The only thing you’ll need to keep an eye out for is getting approached by anyone to share my business movements outside of this room. Or another suggestion to join another crew.”

Vehemently, Esther shook her head. “If you told everyone how and why I joined, then anyone should know that I’m not – what’d you say – a peach?”

“That’s- that’s encouraging to hear.” He placed a hand on her forearm. “Just let us know if you get any offers.”

“Will do, Boss.”

As if summoned by his phraseology, a knock sounded from the door. When prompted, Ricky entered, brandishing a letter. Again, Wardlow created space between himself and Esther. But his brow was creased with a frown that Esther mistook for worry.

“Sorry to interrupt, but we’ve received another card.”

“Post came this morning.”

“Someone went out of their way with a special delivery.”

After knocking on the door, Spears entered the office. “Eighth and Vine called. We’ve been hit. Chopper squad blew out the front doors and threw a few pineapples for good measure.”

Joe wandered over next to Esther, whispering, “overdramatic fools.” When he noticed her shivering, he bumped their shoulders together in reassurance. He stayed here by her side as Spears described the ins and outs of the attack. But, after a tongue click from Joe, he held off from the grislier details. Everything, the flying bullets and flying grenades, just barely missing any of the crew, was punctuated with the delivery of the eight of spades.

Ricky set his jaw. Easing himself down into a chair, he glanced at the map. “Pretty ballsy of whoever did this to do it that same day as the Bull Session. It could be anyone. We all had crew out on the streets.”

“Everyone but Jericho, right?” She squinted, thinking back. “His guys were with him or across the street.”

“He’s got more minions. Those were just his lieutenants.”

Discussions ceased as Mrs. Anne knocked and entered. “Would you all like some coffee, or some tea?”

Esther let out a welcome sigh. “Yes, please. Tea for me.”

The others had barely agreed and picked a beverage before Mrs. Anne rolled in the absconded drink dolly from the parlor, full of steaming cups. “Earl Grey with sugar and a splash of milk for Miss Esther. The same, but black for Mr. Joe. For Mr. Starks, coffee with milk and three sugars. Spears, coffee with a single sugar lump. And coffee with just milk for Mr. Wardlow.”

Wardlow took his cup with a smile. “You’re too good for us, Mrs. Anne.” The first sip eased some of the tension from his shoulders. Like it had warmed him down to his soul.

But Esther was amused. “Three sugars?”

“What?” Ricky took a sip. “Life’s too short for it not to be sweet. Explains why we get along so well. Eh, Doll?”

Mrs. Anne cleared her throat. “Jim’ll be along soon with a light supper. Alert us if you need anything sooner.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Anne. We will.” Joe followed her to the door, closing it behind her. He paused, and retreated, despite obviously wanting to lock it. Ares lowered his ears and moved out of the way of the man’s march to his position against the bookcases.

While they enjoyed their warm drinks, everyone took turns exchanging the information gathered that day. Esther shared her observations for the card patterns, and the lack there-of for Howls. Spears repeated the details from earlier with new context. Ricky did his best to describe the courier that brought the card. But no one was able to identify him. The envelope that contained it was blank and contained no clues as to its origin. Neither Joe nor Wardlow said anything concerning the questions about Esther.

The dinner of small sandwiches from Mr. Jim came and went. As did new pots of tea and coffee refills. Despite many good ideas floating around, no one had any good answers who the leader, the Dealer, could be. Joe noted that he’d caught hints here and there of meetings, which he dubbed Poker Games. Meetings of people from other crews working with the Dealer. But they were just as mysterious as the leader himself, and still pointed to a dead end.

Long after the hall clock tolled midnight, Spears was slumped against a bookcase, barely keeping his eyes open. Joe was out on a patrol around the house, ever vigilant. Starks sat in one of the chairs, rubbing a migraine out of his head and trying not to slouch into his bruising. Wardlow had long lost his necktie, leaving the top of his shirt open. His hair was disheveled from mindlessly running his fingers through it. And Esther had her arm propped up on the armrest of her chair with her head in her hand, fast asleep. Ares, ears twitching with vigilance, was half-asleep on his paws between her feet.

Mrs. Anne quietly stepped into the room. “Will there be anything else tonight, Mr. Wardlow?”

He groaned and leaned back in his desk chair. “No. I think we’re done for the night. Even if we weren’t, we’ve lost our stenographer.”

As if to reply, Esther hummed in her sleep.

“Actually, would you mind getting her door for me?” Wardlow stepped lightly to Esther’s side. “Miss Garnier?” When she didn’t wake, his tongue darted out to wet his bottom lip. “Alright. Grab on if you can, Sweetheart.” He took her into his arms, carrying her out of the room.

Ricky chuckled. “You gonna carry me to bed too, Boss?”

Rousing himself with a yawn, Spears caught Wardlow’s irked expression and answered for him. “Nope. You’ve just got me. Up and at ‘em.” He tried to loop Stark’s arm around the back of his neck, but Stark’s open cuff buttons caught on his crewmate’s collar, entangling them.

Wardlow ignored their sounds of struggle and continued to follow Mrs. Anne. He tried to ignore a series of emotions coursing through him while Esther was in his arms. How her drowsy breaths puffed over the skin bared by his open shirt. How her arms had managed to lock around his neck and shoulders. The gentle hum she made when they reached her door almost made his knees give out. She almost didn’t let go when he tried to deposit her on the bed after the blankets had been pulled back. Mrs. Anne chuckled and helped remove her arms from him.

He pulled the covers over her and paused.

“If you don’t mind my saying so, Sir; she’s a capable young lady.”

“I don’t mind. I already knew that.”

Mrs. Anne watched his expressions hide behind his paused wall. “She’s the kind of woman that would be nice to settle down with. Attentive. Open hearted. She just needs a way out of this business to live a normal life.”

Wardlow’s jaw tensed. “I’m not going to have that way out. Not for a while. If I were even the kind of man she needs-”

“You’re nothing like the monster we left. Or at least I don’t think so. She’s patient. If you ever think of a way out, I’m sure she’d take it.” Mrs. Anne yawned. “Will there be anything else, Sir?”

He shook himself. “No.”

“Goodnight, Sir.”

“Goodnight, Mrs. Anne.” He left the room so she could close the door. He glanced back just before it shut to see Esther slumbering soundly.

\\***//

Chapter 6: Days of Rest

[deepdisireslonging]

Choices Chapter 3: Learning and Healing

Esther helps look after Ricky as he recovers. At the same time, she learns more about the gangster underworld of the Chicago she thought she knew.

Warnings/Promises: food mention, crude use of Creole

Word Count: 4300

Chapter 2: Like a Shot

Saturday, February 16, 1929

Bridgeport Township

“We thought it best to let you sleep.” Mrs. Anne waited for Esther to sit up on her pillows before placing the tray. “Take your time, dear. Once you’re finished, Mr. Wardlow would like to see you.”

“Mr. Starks-“

“Is asleep.” Mrs. Anne shared her kind wrinkly smile. “Mr. Spears is with him now, though I’ll relieve him in a while.” Though she turned for the door, she hesitated. “If you don’t mind my asking… how are you holding up? The last several days have been… active for you.” At Esther’s invitation, Mrs. Anne sat on the foot of the bed while Esther ate.

She pondered over a bite of toast. “I’m alright, I suppose. With all things considered.” She breathed a laugh. “If you had asked me a week ago what I would be doing right now, I would never guess something like working here.”

The women shared a knowing chuckle. Life did move in mysterious ways, they agreed. It was nice to talk to Mrs. Anne. They talked about the lack of snow recently. Wondered how hot the summer would be because of it. And chatted about the difficulties of running a house with so many people coming and going at all hours of the night. They did not talk about the circumstances of Esther’s moving in.

“Have you and Mr. Jim always had your occupation?”

Mrs. Anne’s easy smile drifted into an uneasy one. “Yes. Of a kind. We used to work at another house for another… businessman. He was strict, and quick to see failure. And loud.” She shut her eyes. “He shouted all the time. When Mr. Wardlow left, we left with him.”

That last bit of information intrigued Esther, but she didn’t want to depress the woman further. Taking a sip of her tea, she brightly said, “you are doing a wonderful job in this house. I’ve seen it already.” She grinned. “I also saw the rose decorations in the kitchen. Do you and Mr. Jim like roses?”

“Oh, yes! My mother had a bush by our front porch when I was a little girl and I- never mind that.” Her hands fluttered down into her lap like butterflies. “We’ll have plenty of time to talk later. For now, you’ve finished your breakfast and Mr. Wardlow is waiting for you.”

After she took the tray, Esther swung her leg to the side of the bed. “Mrs. Anne?”

“Yes, dear?”

“Mr. Wardlow. Is- is he a… good man?”

The earlier tension eased out of the aged shoulders. Esther could have sworn she saw some wrinkles smooth away too. “Yes. He is a very good man. A bit lonely. But good. One of the best men in the city.” She cleared her throat. “If yesterday’s chill catches up to you, let me know and I’ll make you some more tea.”

“Thank you. And Mrs. Anne?” Esther mustered up every ounce of her sincerity. “Thank you. For everything.”

With a bob of her head, Mrs. Anne disappeared into the hall.

\\*//

At Esther’s timid knock, Wardlow’s voice rumbled through the wood, “come in.” He finished reading over a document before looking up. When he saw her, he let the paper slip from his hands and stood rapidly. “Miss Garnier. Good morning.”

“Good afternoon.” She took two short steps into his office. “I would have been here earlier, but it seems I slept overly late.” She looked around. Her last entry into his office had been rushed and filled with more adrenaline than awareness. She took in the walls of bookcases, their papery tenants clothed in multicolored spines of rich greens and blues. Some were gilded. There was a map of Chicago on the wall that backed up to the next house. It was a large one, detailed enough to see individual buildings and alleyways. There were two smaller maps of New York and Atlanta on either side. His desk, a dark glossy wood, matched the bookshelves and the high back chair that Esther compared to a throne. She stepped up to one of the smaller high-backs in front of the desk. The one she’d sat in when all this began. “It’s only been a few days since I was last in here. Feels like a lifetime already.” She managed a small smile. “It usually doesn’t take me this long to manage a first day on the job. But… here I am. Esther Garnier reporting for duty.”

Wardlow stepped around to lean against the front of his desk. “The way I see it, you started two days ago. Usually, this job doesn’t have such a rocky start. But I’m glad that you’re going to hang around.”

They fell silent. She wondered if he was thinking about their conversation from the night before. Because she was. And about what Mrs. Anne told her. Silent as a shadow, Ares trotted over to her side. Comforted by his presence, she rested her hand between his ears and lightly scratched. Despite the stress of the week, and it usually being her day of rest, she was ready to work. She hoped God would understand.

Another knock sounded at the door. Spears entered. “Good to see you up and about, Miss Garnier. Ready for a regular business day?”

“Yes.”

Wardlow ran a thumb over his bottom lip to hide his amusement at her enthusiasm. “Good. First off-” He walked over to the map of Chicago. Taking hold of the frame, he pulled it away from the wall. The frame was thicker than Esther had realized. It was actually inset between the wall beams. When Spears helped him set the frame on the floor, she was startled when an identical map was revealed underneath. This one had pins stuck into it, connected by threads of colored string.

She cocked her head to one side. “I thought maps couldn’t just hang around? Mr. Starks burned the one he showed me yesterday.”

“That one was portable.” Spears adjusted a pin to another street corner. “We don’t allow the little ones out- ‘cause if a copper gets hold of it, well. They’d lose all the fun of sleuthing out our location if we just told them.”

“Ah.” Esther stepped closer to look at the frame. “Ingenious.”

“Joe thought of it. He thought of most of the hidey-holes in the house.” Wardlow leaned in to whisper, “have you found the safe in your room yet?”

Her eyes widened. “My what?”

“I’ll have Joe show you sometime. He’s got all the combinations memorized since he put them in.”

“Isn’t that dangerous? To have one person… know them all?”

“Perhaps.” Wardlow shrugged. “But he put in a lot of effort into installing them. Be a shame to leave them behind if he walked out on us.”

Esther nodded. “That too. But what if- that is-“

Spears picked up on her train of thought. “If somebody takes out Joe, we got bigger problems than the safes. Besides, we all have our own memorized. Nobody’s gonna get locked out. I just memorized mine a few weeks ago. Finally moved into a room that’s got a safe.”

Their ease helped Esther breathe a sigh of relief. It wasn’t just that they trusted each other that much. It was also the trust they had in each other’s capabilities.

From behind the Atlanta map, Wardlow opened another hidden safe. He handed her the notebook from the night before and a fountain pen. “Here’s that first notebook. Try not to date anything, just in case. Otherwise, write down what seems important or anything we tell you to.”

“Will do. Where is Mr. Joe?”

“On a job. He’ll be back this afternoon.”

From there, they were off. Esther quickly created a shorthand to keep up with the names of collaborators, competitors, and locations. Even with the rushed understanding of this business world, the scope was larger than she imagined. There were a few ‘companies’ that she had learned about. (And now worked for.) But there were also several further outside the city and in other hubs. Spears occasionally brought up companies centered in New York and Atlanta they did business with. And one, surprisingly, in Connecticut. There were whole empires between the city streets. What the papers and police shared with the general public wasn’t even a rough sketch. While Esther had thought she knew what that meant, again, her scope was too small.

She only knew about Howl’s two recent editions. What she didn’t know was all Wardlow and Co.’s side ventures. Like the false taxi business to make running hooch easier. They even had one of those dime food automats where patrons could get a cheap hot meal, and a bite of the dog on the low. Then there were the distilleries. Most were hidden in former legal distilleries fixed up to look abandoned and decrepit on the outside, but still fully functional on the inside. And the workforce! There were dozens of people working at each location. And several more managers working under Spears that Esther would probably never meet. People living their own lives with their own struggles in a post-Great War world that had suddenly banned booze. The amount of real estate was boggling. It also included private houses and apartments for the managers, like Wardlow’s brownstone. Having too many of the leaders in one building was a risk.

“Then why are you all here? With everything that’s going on… isn’t it risky for you all to be here?”

Wardlow sighed, sharing a look with Spears as he looked over the ledgers. “In better times we would be in our homes. But it also means that we would be spread out. Isolated. Back-up would be too far away if something happened. A bit ironic, I know, how safety in numbers isn’t that much safer. But to hit us all at once would be loud. And none of the other companies or families want the visibility. Or that’s what we thought.”

He pushed a button on the bottom of his desk drawer. The playing cards he pulled out fluttered across the dark wood, settling like omens. Ares huffed through his nose and backed further under Esther’s seat. There were six cards, for now. The red stain on the edge of the seven of hearts made her shiver. One by one, Wardlow and Spears described the events of each card’s arrival. She made a chart, more for herself than anything, but Wardlow approved.

“It needs to be written out somewhere. Maybe you’ll see a pattern we haven’t.”

2 of Clubs - Wardlow and Joe arrested, 2 days in jail, Aug. 2nd

3 of Hearts - distillery on East 3rd street raided

4 of Spades - 4 employees arrested, (eventually released without serious charges)

5 of Diamonds - 5 taxis of booze stolen off road in broad daylight

6 of Clubs - Howl’s #1 raided, Dec. 6th

7 of Hearts - 7 men killed at Bill’s mechanic shop

Esther picked up the two of clubs. “How did they know you’d be in there for two days?” She flicked it over and glanced at the back decoration: a red and black diamond grid, stars in the corners, and a bicycle wheel in the center. Just a normal playing card.

“We have no idea.” Spears sank into one of the guest chairs. He massaged the headache behind his eyes. “From the outside, there was a problem submitting the paperwork to get them out. We took it as a threat that ‘they’ had someone inside the force.”

“Though we didn’t know there was a ‘they’ yet,” Wardlow noted. “It was the first card. And it wasn’t the first time any of us had been picked up. When the second card showed up pinned to the front of our closed distillery… it turned out to be a warning of hardships to come.”

Spears piped up, “put us behind for weeks.”

“And when we had just begun to recover-“

Esther held up the four of spades. “More arrests.” She looked over her notes. Raids. Arrests. A slowing of customers as they avoided Howls so they wouldn’t end up in the pen. So much risk. And with a dwindling reward. She eyed the seven of hearts. “It’s odd, isn’t it?”

“What is?” Wardlow walked over to the map, staring through it.

“These earlier cards. They marked inconveniences. Hard to recover from with so many back-to-back. But the fourteenth? Seven dead. It’s such a rapid escalation.” She hummed to herself. “It doesn’t fit.”

“Unless they were trying to finish us off.” Spears sat up straight. “No. It still doesn’t fit.”

Esther continued with her thought. “We know who- who attacked the mechanic shop. Mr. Joe and I watched Friedman toss the card. The first cards were anonymous. Some showing up after the fact.” She drifted off. “And none of us think Friedman is behind it all. Why is that?”

The door swung open, followed by a sharp knock. “That’s because he’s an imbecile.” Joe stepped into the room. “He’s coming to the Bull Session.”

Wardlow’s jaw set. With the way his temples flexed, Esther knew he was grinding his teeth. “He’s got a lotta balls.”

“And not a whole lotta brains.” Joe glanced at Esther. “How’s the first day going?”

“You guys have been busy.”

Joe nodded in agreement while the other two chuckled. “That we have.”

“If you don’t mind my asking,” she asked permission with a glance at Wardlow, “what were you looking in on?”

“I was closing down Howls.”

Wardlow hummed. “We’re leaving Howls closed for a while until things get figured out. Our smaller ventures are still doing well, and they’re harder for the cops to track.” He sighed. “I hate seeing it empty. Kinda sad to see such a dream closed up like that.”  

Joe nodded again. “And Mrs. Anne wanted me to tell you that Ricky is awake.”

With a flick of her wrist, Esther closed the notebook and was out of her seat. Halfway to the door, Ares barked. She spun, holding the notebook out to Wardlow to put back into the safe. Barely letting their fingers touch, he took it. He was about to follow her when Joe placed his hand on his chest, stopping him in his tracks.

“I need to catch you up on a few things.”

Esther glanced between them, her feet urging her to the door. “Do I need to stay?”

Joe shook his head. “No. We’ll fill you in when he’s helped me riddle out a few things.”

“Go check on Ricky.” Wardlow nodded at her with a wink. “See if you can get any information outta him.”

“I’ll do my best.”

\\*//

She hurried up the stairs, dodging Mr. Jim on his way down. Stark’s room was on the ‘unofficial’ side of the house, in the corner room over Wardlow’s office. It was sparsely furnished, with few personal touches. From what Esther had glimpsed of everyone else’s space through cracked doors and their comings and goings, so were most of the rooms. They were more of a waiting zone to catch up on sleep before braving the battle out in the streets. The suitcase peeking from under the bed was evidence of that. Everyone had one, according to Joe. Hers was on the way. The crew kept it pre-packed with the essentials and their personable valuables in case anyone had to leave town suddenly. Esther wondered what Starks kept in his.

When she arrived, he was sitting up in bed. A tray similar to the one she had for breakfast was on his lap, though the food was already half gone. The air in her lungs suddenly left her. Leaning against the door frame, she felt calm wash over her, relaxing the hidden tension in her spine and shoulders. He was smiling. A bit bruised. But smiling.

“Hey, Doll.”

“Hello, Mr. Starks.” She sat in the chair where she had kept her vigil the night before. She dragged her eyes from the case under the bed up to the man in bed.

He arched an eyebrow at her. “If you’re gonna be a regular visitor to this invalid, you don’t have to be so formal. We’ve seen battle together. Ricky will be just fine.”

Esther’s face warmed, but she nodded. “Alright… Ricky. But only if you call me Esther.”

“You don’t like being called Doll?”

“Oh, yes. Just- when you do have to use my name-”

He reached for her hand, giving it a squeeze. “I’m kidding you. Of course I’ll do that, Esther. Unless you’d like me to use my sweet Creole until you find another favorite, ma Cher.” His thumb swept back and forth over her knuckles. Taking a ragged breath, Ricky swallowed hard. “They told me you ran all the way back. Thank you. I had tried to keep you out of the cold-”

“It didn’t end up being too bad.” Esther took her hand back into her lap. “Didn’t feel a bit of the chill until I landed.” Oxygen caught in her throat until she swallowed. “How are your ribs?”

“Not broken.”

“That’s good.” In her lap, her hands began to shake. She squeezed them tightly together. Letting a glimmer of mischief shine in her eyes, she said, “I’ve been sent up here to glean some information from you.”

Ricky leaned back. “Oh, really? He crossed his arms, though not fully letting them rest on his chest. “What makes you think you can do better than any of the cops or competitors who have tried?” As Esther scooted her chair closer, he eyed her warily with amusement.

“I’ll ask nicely for starters.” She smiled brightly as Ricky gasped.

“That’ll do wonders. What would you like to know, miss?”

Esther paused. She sat back. “I actually don’t know what to ask. Um- did you notice or learn anything different since your, ah, last visit to Jazzies?”

He looked off into the room. “I wasn’t at Jazzies last night. Or, at least, I didn’t start there. They took me to one of their warehouses.” He nodded apologetically. “It was the one I got slips on. I was right. It was full of stock.”

“Stock? Like… I can’t see anybody keeping boxes upon boxes of poker chips.”

“No. Stock being, ah- cases of booze from Friedman. Seems Jericho is storing the goods for him now as well as being a main customer.”

“Hmm.” She thought over that morning’s meeting. “Wonder if it’s a trade. Has Jericho been struggling?”

“He’s not doing great, that’s for sure. He may have the police protection, but Jazzies was practically empty the other night. Only a few tables had players. And I only saw two guys at the bar before Hagar made trouble.”

Deeper thoughts scratched at the back of her mind. Was anybody doing well? Before she could ask, the others arrived. They waited for Ricky’s nod before entering. Joe leaned against the wall by the window, and Spears stayed by the door. Wardlow stopped at the end of the bed, resting his hands on the footrail.

“How ya feelin’?”

“Hurts to breathe, but I’ll live. Though, if I have another cup of Mrs. Anne’s tea, I’ll float away.”

Esther lightly swatted his arm. “Hey. Mrs. Anne makes great tea.”

“Never said she didn’t.” Ricky smiled through defensively holding up his hands. “What happened to the nice interrogation?”

Wardlow laughed. “We send up a pretty face and you’re spilling the beans already? I see how it is.” For a moment, Ricky looked worried. Before he could defend himself, Wardlow waved away the apology. “Just Joshin’ you. We caught that last bit about Jericho coming up the stairs. By the way, when was the last time you dropped by Feathers?”

He thought back, but shrugged. “Weeks ago. We didn’t think we needed to keep an eye on them. Why?”

Inhaling a deep breath, Wardlow’s hands tightened and relaxed around the bedrail as if he could wring answers out of the metal. “He ordered half his usual today. We were starting to think he was trying to back out of association with us, since we’ve been all over the papers because of Howls and Valentine’s. But then Jericho’s slump. Makes me wonder if he isn’t doing well either.”

“I can drop by there tomorrow, if you’d like.”

Esther straightened in her seat, but Joe was a hair quicker to speaking reason. “Like hell you will. Best ears on the team or not, you’re not going anywhere. We’ll get someone else to do it. Besides,” he let a whisp of a smile tug at his lips, “you gotta help us train Miss Garnier. Bull Session is coming up.”

“And everyone is gonna be there.” Wardlow shared a look with Joe. “It’s not just Taz and Jericho. Friedman’s coming. And now Omega and Company. I’m half considering inviting Baker and Black just so no one feels excluded.”

The room slipped into an uneasy silence. Esther had heard those last two names before. When she first visited Wardlow’s office. She thought they were just a pair of small hirable “hit” groups, but they had to be deeply involved if they were being considered for invitation. This ‘informal meeting’ felt like it was spiraling out of control.

Spears broke the silence, making her jump. “It’s not half a bad idea. Might be a good idea to have some private-run muscle in the room if things go south. Should we move venues?”

Wardlow shook his head.

With a grunt, Joe shifted his stance. “That’s a lotta people who are gonna know our floor plan.”

“Not if we don’t let them upstairs. And it’s not like they couldn’t find out by visiting our neighbors on either side. Give or take the breezeways, they have mirror images of this house.” He slipped into thought. “If we move the new guys from the Automat cafeteria to here for the weekend, we’ll have more hands at the ready. Sound alright?”

To Esther, Joe didn’t look happy with the idea. But with all the businessmen accounted for in the townhome, it was unlikely they’d attack one of Wardlow’s assets. The other guests probably wouldn’t appreciate one of them taking advantage of the host.

Unless they really wanted Wardlow out of the way.

“I could still drop by Feathers. With as banged up as I am in the street news by now,” Ricky grinned, “nobody will expect to see me out and about.”

“Nuh-uh.” Esther stood and tucked the covers tighter around Ricky’s waist. The action brought them nose to nose. “The only way you’re getting out of this bed before you heal is to relieve yourself. And I don’t mean your curiosity or nosiness.”

Wardlow coughed, drawing his thumb over his bottom lip in a poor attempt to cover up his amusement. Spears noticed he’d been doing that more often of late.

Vigorously, Ricky nodded.

With another cough, and a smile he couldn’t hide, the boss chuckled, “you heard the woman. You’re staying put. Besides, we’ve got a lot to accomplish here. Miss Garnier, I’ll show you on Monday how I want those invitations written. Spears and the guys will deliver them.”

“Alright.” She breathed through the blush she hoped wasn’t visible on her olive skin. Such an outburst was unlike her. The again, so was most of her choices here of late. She smoothed down her hair to calm herself.

Ricky whistled. “You’re still the nicest interrogator I’ve ever had. The scariest. But still the nicest, by far.”

“What?” Spears put an offended hand over his chest. “You didn’t like all of our debriefing sessions?”

“Loass twa, couillion,” Ricky muttered, his accent thickening.

Esther side-eyed him. “What does that mean?”

“He was insulting my mother.”

“No, I wasn’t!” Ricky avoided her glare. “I was rude, I admit. But I wasn’t insulting his mother.”

“Hmm.” She took hold of the tray and removed it from his lap. “You’re on thin ice, Mister. And don’t expect any of that fancy Creole talk to save you.”

In his corner, Joe passed a hand over his face as he hissed out a push of air. He murmured, “not even here three days and she’s wittier than he is. Damn.”

All four men had different reactions to Esther’s sudden appearance of lark. Ricky was flabbergasted. Joe was amused. Spears was awed. And Wardlow… was trying his best to not let his emotions triumph over his professionalism. But then Esther winked at him to further tease Ricky. And he was lost.

“You sure know how to pick ‘em, Joe.” He tilted his head. “But, truly. Do you need anything, Ricky, before we get back to work?”

He considered. “Maybe another blanket. It’s freezing up here.”

With a jolt, Esther reconsidered how much the winter would have been a shock for the Louisiana man. Brisk as they were, she’d grown up with Chicago snows all her life. It wouldn’t matter how many years ago he moved up here, the cold was rough. Passing the tray to Spears, she checked the hall closet and immediately came back with the thickest one she found. She tucked it tight around him as before. “Anything else?”

“Maybe a cup of coffee?” He pouted at her, looking playfully pitiful. “With a spike of somethin’ to keep the cold away, if possible.”

“If you’re wanting something with that kind of extra, you need to ask the boss.” She thumbed toward the man at the foot of the bed. “He’s running the joint.”

“I’ll see what I can manage.” Wardlow patted the man’s leg through the blanket, then guided Esther out the door. “You’re doing great. I think this’ll be his quickest rebound yet.”

\\***//

Chapter 4: Bull Session 

[deepdisireslonging]

Choices Chapter 2: Like a Shot

Ricky takes Esther back to her apartment. On their way out, they are attacked by a rival gang.

Warnings/Promises: gang-typical violence, food mention, fluffy-flirty Ricky

Word Count: 4800

Chapter 1: Valentine's Day

Friday, February 15, 1929

Bridgeport Township

When Esther came down the stairs the next morning, Starks was waiting for her with a cup of coffee and a map.

“Is it… spiked or-” Esther nodded at the cup.

With a smile, he handed it over. “Just plain coffee. I promise. Milk and sugar are in the kitchen, along with breakfast.” He popped open the breezeway so they could cross to the other side of the house.

When they reached the kitchen, Esther recognized the small space from her brief entrance the day before. In the hustle and bustle of moving her in, she’d missed its quaint details. Mrs. Anne sat at the small table against the door-side wall, darning some socks while Mr. Jim peeled potatoes. She pointed out the sugar on the far counter, and Starks grabbed the milk bottle from the ice box next to the back door. The stove in the corner easily radiated heat through the room. It was very welcome with how damp and drizzly it was outside. And, from the kitchen’s position behind Wardlow’s office, the oven probably seeped warmth into the wall right behind his desk. The large table island in the middle of the room was prepped with platters of toast, eggs, bacon (which Esther politely avoided), and a small plate with a pat of butter.

It was then, with the soft scrape of Mr. Jim’s knife, and the clink of plates and utensils, that Esther noticed how quiet the rest of the house was. “Most of the guys headed out early to prepare for the Bull Session,” Starks noted. “Any other morning, it would still be this quiet for anybody recovering from a late night. Or a busted head.”

Mrs. Anne tsked, flicking her eyes from Starks to Esther to point out the woman’s alarm.

“Ah. A busted head is just a hangover.” He laughed nervously, dipping his head in apology to the housekeeper. “Nothing too violent.”

“Oh,” Esther breathed in a sigh of relief. But she also observed how Ricky’s eye had not improved. It was still swollen and red around the lid and underneath. The purple bits from last night had settled deep into his skin. It looked painful. Her staring was interrupted by his placing the map on the counter.

A pigeon’s-eye view of Chicago’s city plan was outlined into regions. Names were labeled within each square. Some areas were clear of writing. Esther assumed they were neutral territories. Especially considering one of them contained the police station. Perhaps. Or maybe they were areas of flux as the crews acquired and lost ground. Stars on the map marked ‘businesses.’

Starks pointed at the square encompassing the townhouse just south of the city’s center. And then to Howls former locations. “We’re obviously here. But, as you can see, we have neighbors with conflicting interests. On the lakeside: Kenny Omega and The Father’s House. Everybody calls it Feathers. It’s a church front with a casino in the basement fellowship hall. He’s our biggest customer for hooch to keep his patrons spending.”

“Why feathers?”

“Some kind of angel pun, I think. That’s from before I joined the racket up here. Up here by the tracks on our northside is Chris Jericho and Jazzies. He’s got guys in the police force, so his casino is almost never raided. And definitely never shut down. We hire musicians from Jericho’s music shop front. Not often. But it keeps him happy.” He let the information settle. “Now, to keep you happy. Where am I taking you today?”

Esther looked over the map before pointing. “Here.”

His eyebrows arched. “You live in Jade territory?”

“I didn’t care who owned the block. Most people don’t. All that matters is that the rent is cheap, and it’s mostly quiet.” She frowned. “I thought Jade worked for Taz?”

“Yeah, but she came in with some land she won for herself as a display of her skills.” He shrugged. “We should probably go, but I can’t leave this around. How quick can you memorize it? Don’t worry about the exact dimensions and street names; the borders change too often. And you’ll get the gist of territories as you’re present for business meetings.”

With one last long look, feeling the Torrios’s interest on her back, Esther soaked up the information on the map. There were a few overlapping areas she wanted to ask about. But she knew Starks or Wardlow could fill her in later. Her apartment building looked so far away on the map. But it had only taken minutes to drive yesterday. She looked over the streets closely to make up for the blur of turns that she’d missed during her escape and then during the move. “Alright, I think I’ve got it.”

The oven door creaked as Starks opened it, washing the room in a swell of heat from the rabid flames inside. With the rush of air, he had to force the map into the opening so it would catch. One corner ignited. Then the miniature flame ate its way to the other side. He kept watch until the page was ashes before closing the door.

“Now we just have to borrow one of the cars and get moving.” He shared a nod with Mrs. Anne, who retrieved their coats from the hooks in the hall.

“One of the cars? It’s not that far of a walk. We could-“

He chuckled. “It’s cold out, Doll. Why shuffle through the snow and rain when you could travel in style?” He was amused by her agreeing smile. “Welcome to the Wardlow way of business.”

The car in question was sleek in design. But complicated to start. One of Ford’s Model A’s, as Starks identified, it still started with a crankshaft in the front grill. Starks insisted Esther sit in the front passenger seat during the process. After many a grunt, and a few curses under breath, the motor purred to life and off they went.

To cover up for his earlier struggle, he had no shortage of questions. Esther shared how her family had always lived on the outskirts of the city, out in River Forest. Her father’s bakery out there did well. But his back was broken in a driving accident; he had been crossing the street when a speeding car came careening around a corner. He couldn’t knead the tougher doughs, but her mother and brothers helped out. She was the first to move into the city center when seeking her fortune. And Starks shared how he was the first from his family to leave the state of Louisiana. But he deflected around the reasons for his move. Something about a job. Esther didn’t press.

The conversation eventually came to a lull. Starks hummed, then began to guide the car to the curb.

“Is everything alright?” Esther had been watching him adjust levers and press the different pedals, but it was a lot different from the old van she had sometimes driven for the corner grocer. This would be nothing like those deliveries.

“Wanna take the wheel for a bit?”

“Oh, no. I’ll have a lesson about-” she waved her hand over the dash, “all of this when the roads aren’t so slick.” She breathed a sigh of relief when he guided the car back into the minimal traffic. Because of the weather, there weren’t as many booths out by the street. Mostly ones selling something hot to eat or drink while the rest of the businesses kept their wares inside. Passerbys huddled against the cold and moved quickly as they dared over the icy sidewalks and slippery streets. Esther was glad for the car. “I have to admit, I kinda like being driven around. Thanks for bein’ my chauffeur.”

Starks tipped his hat, making her laugh. “My pleasure, miss.”

As they crossed the invisible threshold into Jade territory, Starks slowed their carefree clip down to a casual cruise. The speed blended in with the calm bustle of pushcarts and older cars. Also, his conversation was loose, distracted, while he kept a watchful eye on their surroundings. The buildings, slowly dipping from brick-built to brick-faced, and barely managed to decrepit, crawled by Esther’s window. When Cargill took over, she had initiated several projects to strengthen the community, usually meaning a bustle of builders. To Esther, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. If anything, it was quiet. Probably too cold out for the work teams. Mentioning this made Ricky’s grip on the steering wheel tighter.

Esther’s friend was just walking up to the front door of the building when Starks brought the car to a stop. The mere sight of the blonde, who embodied the flapper trends when she could, made her heart leap. She didn’t wait for him to open her door. She was out like a shot with a squeal mirrored by her friend, Mary.

“I saw all those men yesterday but didn’t see you. Heard about the raid, and then the shooting at Bill’s and thought the worst. But here you are!”

“Oh, there was a lot of… Yes. Everything worked out. I’m alright. And! I got a new position that came with a new place. But in all the rush, I forgot a few things. You don’t still happen to have my mother’s scarf, do you? I couldn’t find it last night and I-”

Mary beamed and laced her arm with Esther’s. “Yes, I do. It was perfect for my date last week.” They shared a giggle. “Didn’t work out more than for a free meal, but come on up while I find it and tell me about your new job.” She eyed the man at Esther’s side. “Is this your new boss? Are you a boxer, Mister-?”

“Starks.” He took her outstretched hand and lightly kissed her knuckles. “Ricky Starks. And no, to both questions. We have the same boss, and I’m… clumsy.” He lightly touched his eye. When she laced her other arm in his, he gladly let her take the lead.

“I’ve got a cousin that lives up in New York,” Mary said, leading them up the stairs. “When her mother was doing poorly, she came home for a while and taught us girls some exercise from London, and how to punch like she learned in the Bronx.” She shadowboxed outside her door. “Maybe Esther can show you a few pointers. I taught her everything my cousin showed me.”

They shared a laugh. Mary’s room was across the landing from Esther’s. It made for easy check-ins, mutual sewing assistance, shared meals, and the best moments of developing city sisters.

“Would either of you like some tea?” Mary swept from one side of her living space to the other in her quick way. “I’m going to make me a cup.”

Esther almost shed a tear with the realization of how much she would miss her friend’s daily hustle. “I’m alright, dear. Though Mr. Starks might need some. It wasn’t as warm in the car as he thought it would be.” To emphasize her point, he held up his hands and dramatically tried to unbend his half-frozen fingers. It made the women laugh; Mary uproariously, in her way. “In that case, we should hurry. You haven’t moved your sugar, have you?”

Their easy dance in the small corner kitchen, no more than a stove with a pair of burners on the top and a small counter, caught Starks in wonder. Mary rushed between the stove top and the cabinet of cups over the sink to one side while Esther handed her things. He likened it to watching fireflies in Louisiana; lightning up in as many corners of a grove as possible. Esther moved like… the only thing he could think of was the way sugar poured smoothly into a cup of something warm. Such a cup was placed in his hands while he did his best to keep up with Mary’s ceaseless conversation.

“So, where’s this new secretary- stenographer job?”

Esther sat by Starks on the low couch while Mary took the chair. “It’s downtown a bit. Comes with an apartment and everything! Maybe you could visit- oh. Maybe not. The boss is… a little shy.”

Starks caught her disappointment. He flashed a smile. “We have parties sometimes. And we never turn a pretty face away from the door.”

While her friend flushed, Esther breathed with wondering what sorts of parties could be held at the townhome. If they could actually be held at all, or if Starks was just being kind. She used the breath to blow steam off her tea. “I hope this one lasts for a while. It’ll be nice to have something steady. How’s my spot at the corner grocer’s?”

“He’s so sweet.” Mary swirled the spoon in her tea. “His younger son is even nicer, though not around often. He took over the deliveries since Joshua left for school. Delivers on foot, and in the Harrigan’s car. Did you know the van finally gave up the ghost? And you remember the Harrigans, right? Got that little tot who’s got great aim for kicking people in the shins. That’s them. And Mr. Brazer, that’s my boss, Mr. Starks, he’s so easy-going. Won’t let me lift more than a bag of apples if he can help it, the dear. I’ve already started to memorize the common customers. Which one’s like what kinds of lettuce, if we ever get any. Which ones keep asking for oranges. And which ones I have ta’ keep an eye on their kids. One lady- did you ever meet Mrs. Folle? Has a little girl who knocks over my carrots, I swear, every time they come in. Little carrot-top’s got a thing for watching them go everywhere, I guess. So, what all will you be secretary-ing?”

Starks passed a hand over his eyes. How did Esther ever keep up with this girl?

“I have to admit, I’m a little fuzzy on the details. But as far as I can tell, I’m going to be taking notes during meetings. That way the boss or any of his associates can read over them and keep updated. I’m assuming anyways; I haven’t actually started yet.” When she glanced at Ricky for help, he stammered out some half-baked story about how Wardlow was blessed with a strong income, and Esther’s work would help him dish the charity back into the city.

“That won’t be so bad. And you’ll be out of the cold. I get frozen every time someone opens the front door. You’ll be working days instead of nights like you used to, I’m sure. I’m so happy for you!” She reached over and lightly swatted Esther’s knee. “It’s exciting. A fresh start. And hopefully quieter than your last two places. Wolves… or Howls; whatever it was called.”

As Mary continued to chat, Esther and Starks shared a look. Nothing about this job was quiet, and they both knew it.

“Let me get that scarf, before I forget.” Mary finished her tea with a flourish. Spinning out of her seat, she hurried from her boudoir to her closet, to the box of hats and things under her bed. It ended up being in the first drawer of the boudoir, passed over in her haste. Esther began cleaning up the cups and saucers. When everything was put away, her friend was suddenly soft-spoken.

Mary handed over the scarf, letting her hand linger over Esther’s. “Hey, don’t forget me while you’re living in the heart of downtown and surrounded by all that elegance. Okay?”

“I could never. When my days off roll around, I’ll write. Who else could I get into mischief with?”

Ricky slid his hand into the crook of Esther’s arm. “Maybe we can all go out dancing. Dance the night away and not come back till dawn!” He winked at Mary. “I’m sure I can find another coworker who can lead you in a quick Charleston if you’d like.”

“Whew, any time!”

They shared a giggle and a hug before Esther and Starks went back to the car.

Outside, Ricky nodded. “Nice girl. Friendly.” He caught Esther’s eye. “But she’s a wild two-step, that one. I’m glad you’re more of a small, sweet cup of coffee.”

With a confused smile, Esther wrapped her mother’s scarf around her neck. “Odd compliment, but I’ll take it.”

He was just taking her hand to give it a squeeze when Esther was distracted by movement over his shoulder. The street was oddly empty. Except for a car accelerating towards the building. Ricky spun to face it as the motor’s roar reached him.

“Get inside.” He shoved her towards the steps. “Does it lock?”

Esther pulled on the handle. “It already is.”

Starks grit his teeth with a grunt. “Get into the alley. Hide behind anything sturdy that you can find and keep your head down. Don’t come out again until it’s quiet.” He watched as she ran and hid, then rushed to the back of the car. The button inside the trunk popped open the hidden shelf, revealing a machine gun. With only moments until the car would be in range to fire at him, he ducked behind the sidewalk-side tire.

Bullets riddled the street-side of the car. Glass broke into the seats, and more broke in the building’s first floor. Starks aimed over the hood, making the attacking bullets pause. But his gun jammed. With a curse, he dropped down to his knees. The bullets continued to fly as the car’s tires squealed and he dug around in his pockets. By the time he found his revolver, two men had jumped out. One kicked the gun out of Stark’s hand. A short fight broke out.

Despite it technically not being quiet yet, Esther risked a peek. One of the men was tall as a giant, broad shouldered, and with well-combed blond hair. He grabbed Ricky by the scruff of his neck to pull him to his feet, then pinned his arms behind him. The second, shorter and younger with dark hair, blew on his knuckles. With a grin, he landed a solid punch to Stark’s stomach. Esther almost cried out to see him double over, again and again, as the assault continued. A third man, with a lion’s mane of long blond hair, gave a whistle from his position in the car. He waved his hat before putting it back on his head. The long feather stuck into the band caught on the door.

To Esther’s horror, the two assailants dragged Ricky to their vehicle. It was still sputtering and chugging, ready to go whenever the feather-hat leader knew they were good. Stark’s limbs made one last effort to prevent the inevitable. The young man shoved them in one by one and shouted something. They sped off, creating a tidal wave in the muddy slush on the road.

Her heart threatened to beat out of her chest.

Nobody had screamed when the first-floor windows broke. But she knew the neighborhood would be buzzing soon enough.

Rushing to the sidewalk, Esther gave one hard look at the car. It was in rough shape. Not like she could operate it anyway. She took a second to orient herself. Then broke off into a sprint. She kept that morning’s map in her mind. Which blocks to turn at. Which ones to avoid, just in case.

The cold didn’t matter. Her running created a heat that kept her going. When she finally arrived at the townhome, she was sweating.

Wardlow had just arrived back with some of the men. “Esther! What’s wrong?” He caught her as her lungs gave out. “Catch your breath. There you go. What’s happened? Where’s Ricky?”

“Taken.” She swallowed a mouthful of air. “Three guys. Young guy. Tall and blond. And their leader with long blond hair.” She motioned a line beside her head. “Long feather in his hat.”

At Wardlow’s side, Spears and Joe hissed. Spears punctuated it with an extra growl. “Jericho. Bastard probably wanted to know what Starks overheard.”

Joe kneeled next to Esther. “The young guy. Dark hair?” When she nodded, he winced. “Whose side is Guevarra on? Just last month he had switched back to Friedman’s crew.”

“We can’t riddle that out right now.” Wardlow passed her shivering body to Joe. “Spears, behind the wheel. Sorry, boys, the day’s not done yet. Martin, check the hatches. Are we loaded? Good. I’m joining you on the hunt.” He turned back to the pair, brushing a sweaty lock off Esther’s forehead. “Honey, you’re gonna be alright. And so is Starks. You did good. Joe, get her inside to Anne before she catches cold. And watch the house for further backlash. This shouldn’t take long.”

The car was already speeding off before Wardlow’s door shut. The rushed growl of it raised Esther.

“The car! It’s back at the apartment. ‘Couldn’t drive it so I ran and…”

Joe hushed her, carrying her into the house. “It’s alright. We’ll send somebody for it.”

“It’s all shot up-“

“We’ll handle that too. Mrs. Anne, some hot water and some assistance, please.”

While the housekeeper and Joe hurried around to dote on Esther, she fought to remember every detail of the kidnapping. It somehow felt worse than if they’d just shot him in front of her. And now Wardlow was out there. Everyone was in danger.

“Hand that to me, dear. That’s it.” Mrs. Anne gently untangled the scarf from around Esther’s neck. “I’ll put it in your room.”

She could have tossed it into the fire for all Esther cared. In her mind, this was all her fault.

Joe watched the guilt rise on her face. “Listen to me. Nothing of this is because of you. It’s the game. It’s a rough game, and not every side plays fair. We’ll get ‘em. One way or another.” He patted her shoulder. When she mentioned the building windows he tutted. “Cargill will cover them. We’ll send someone around to check. If she doesn’t handle it, we’ll replace them. Don’t worry yourself anymore and get some rest.”

But she couldn’t. She refused to leave the front parlor, even when Joe tried to get her away from the windows. “They won’t come here,” she breathed. “They got what they wanted.”

It was the longest two hours of her life. Ares never left her side. He rested his snout over her shoes, only moving when Mrs. Anne covered her up with a blanket. Then he placed his head in her lap, calmly watching her while she petted his fur. In that time, her heart rate slowed down to a hesitant patter. Outside, it began to snow.

Mrs. Anne was just bringing another cup of tea when Joe burst into the room. “They brought him to the back door. He’s alive-”

She was off like a shot. When she arrived at the kitchen, Starks was lying across the center table. The sight stopped Esther in her tracks. His eyes weren’t open. His breathing was ragged. And, where his shirt had been cut open to survey the damage, his ribs were already spotting with deep purple and black bruises. His face didn’t appear to have any more damage to it besides a busted lip. Mr. Jim was holding up his left arm, observing a cut along his forearm.

“They threw him in the rubbish outside?” When he received confirmation, he nodded. “Nothing malicious as the rest of him. Just a cut from a bottle. Pass me the bandages.”

Spears noticed Esther first, and more from Joe’s entrance than her sudden appearance. He leaned down to Stark’s ear. “Look alive. Miss Garnier’s here.”

With a stunted groan, Starks opened his eyes. “Hey, mon cher. I’m glad you’re alright.”

She took half steps towards the table. “And I’m glad you’re mostly in one piece.”

Mr. Jim prodded at some of Stark’s ribs, making him shout. “Have to check to see if they’re broken. Hang tight.”

Esther offered her hand for him to do just that. He did his best not to break her fingers.

Finally, Mr. Jim nodded. “You’re one lucky sonava- ‘scuse me, Miss Garnier. He’s always been the luckiest man I’ve ever met. And tonight’s no different. Now where’s the rest of those bandages?”

The expression on Esther’s face didn’t agree with Mr. Jim’s observations. To her, Starks looked half-dead. To his detriment, that’s how he felt, but he slapped on a smile for her sake.

“Been in tougher scrapes than this, Doll.” He grinned, then winced as a bandage was wrapped around his forearm. “Might take me a minute to think of one, but I’ll get there.” When Esther managed to smile back, he gave her hand two weak but reassuring squeezes. They held the moment in silence as the kitchen bustled around them.

Wardlow eventually stepped close. Gently, he broke their hands apart. “We should really get you to a bed. Everyone ready to move?”

Starks was asleep before they were halfway up the stairs.

\\*//

Esther sat up with him most of the night. She saw to his bandages and kept a cool compress on his forehead to prevent fever. At first, Mrs. Anne had protested. In her opinion, someone needed to be sitting up with her too. But Esther persisted.

All night, she thought about the steps and the choices that had brought her here. She was out of the cold, making more money than she could have ever imagined, yes. But she had cowered from bullets twice now. Saw two people she cared about become victims of this way of life, losing one of them. She wouldn’t lose this one. Not tonight. The realization that she cared about Ricky, in this new budding way, rattled her lungs. And what of Wardlow? He had come back more haggard than Esther could imagine anyone looking. Did he consider this business worth it?

About midnight, a soft knock sounded at the door.

“Miss Garnier?” Wardlow poked in his head. His boyish grin made her return a smile. After quietly entering the room, he pulled up a chair. “Mrs. Anne will have my head if I let you sit up all night.”

“I won’t be able to forgive myself if I don’t.”

“Yes, you can. And you should.” Wardlow eased out a sigh. “You saved his life, you know?”

“After putting it in danger in the first place.”

He frowned. “You did no such thing. This… disagreement is older than your tenure here. If they hadn’t nabbed him while he was with you, they would have come to the house for him. Or would have done it downtown.” He leaned closer to her. “You got to us in the nick of time. You knew exactly which details to give us so we knew who had him. Jericho was waiting for us when we arrived at Jazzies. If you had tried to operate the car, or had hesitated in any way, it would have been a corpse they tossed out to us. But it wasn’t. He’s alive. And I know, when he wakes up, Ricky will thank you for it.”

She wasn’t sure when it started, but Esther reached up to wipe away her tears. “It’s not my fault.”

“No. Not in the slightest.” He offered her his handkerchief. “You’ve had a rough start in this life. Rougher than most. But you don’t have to stay in it.” The soft, almost brokenness of his voice startled her. “If you want out, I can see to it. I can move you anywhere you like. New York, Atlanta. Hell, I’ll set you up in London if you’d like.” He tried to flash her smile, but it was too heavy with unwillingness to stick. “Just say the word.”

Again, Esther took stock. Her nerves were shot. More danger for her and the crew was on the horizon. And more than anything she wanted to forget the whole thing. But then she looked at Ricky. She remembered how he had left his family for this life. His haggard breathing made her want to see him healed up. She looked at Wardlow. How much his eyes begged her to stay, despite what he’d said. And how kind he was trying to be for her.

“I can’t leave,” she finally said. “How can I? You boys need all the help you can get. Besides, I haven’t even had my first day on the job. Can’t quit what I haven’t started.”

Wardlow’s face lit up. “I’m- that is good to hear.” He took her hand, giving it two reassuring squeezes. “Now, you really must go to bed. Can you trust me to look after him till at least morning? You’ll be able to watch over him better if you’ve rested.”

The invalid in question seconded that idea with a loud snore.

Esther laughed into her hand to muffle it. “Alright. I trust you.” She squeezed his hand back as she stood. “I’ll see you in the morning, then. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

She was asleep seconds after her head hit the pillow. And she didn’t wake up until Mrs. Anne brought her a breakfast tray the next morning.

\\***//

Chapter 3: Learning and Healing

[deepdisireslonging]

Choices Chapter 1: Valentines Day

Esther Garnier misses out on a paycheck when the speakeasy she works at gets raided. She noticed a pair of odd-bodies leaving about he same time she did, but thinks nothing of them. Until she tried to go back to Howls for her money and instead witnessed a massacre. She's rescued, but possibly at the cost of her freedom.

Warnings/Promises: alcohol, cops, witnessing several murders

Word Count: 8000 (long, but there's a lot to cover here at the beginning...)

Read the Prologue Here

Thursday, February 13, 1929

Schiavone’s Family Funeral Parlor, Southside Chicago

Any passerby could be fooled by the dark, brooding façade of the building.The small sign out front performed masterfully at keeping away unwanted visitors. Who would want to visit a funeral parlor? But, if you timed it right, the opening of the front door coincided with the opening of an inner door, and music would come pouring out. And, if you were lucky and knew the password, you too could enjoy a good time.

 Howls was a bustling center of illegal commerce. Money moved in one main direction, towards the bar. Citizens beaten down by the Dry Laws came here to wash away the dregs of the day with a bit of coffee. Coffee imported from the wintry vast of Russia in tall clear bottles, dark squat brown bottles from Kentucky and the back stills of Appalachia, and even the elegant bottles from the Champagne region of France. The bar across the back wall displayed none of these. Instead, a seamless mirror reflected the patrons sitting at the long single oak beam that the bartender carefully wiped down after preparing every order.  Not a single example of the wares was on display. But all the patrons knew what could be had.

Coffee cups clinked together across the establishment, toasting one thing or another, even if it was simply the joy of the evening. No matter which way one turned, carefree abandon was visible from every angle. Green velvet framed by dark wood on seats, verdant paper on walls fringed in gold, and waiters in dark suits created a vivid place to drink away the night and day. Visitors coming in for their drinks wore anything from rhinestones to satin to the course fabric of the working force. Howls didn’t discriminate in patronage. Life was hard already. If you had the password to get in through the front door, you were welcome.

The side door, front door to the easy and disguised as a wall panel from the outside, slid open. Outside was a hall that matched the funeral parlor front for Howls. Three men stepped in, at ease in their familiarity with the speakeasy, and with each other. The bartender dipped his head in respect. He began to prep their drinks before the orders already waiting. The men took their corner seats: Wardlow sitting in the middle with Joe and Spears on either side. The boss’s pocket square would have blended in with the green and gold décor had it not been for his sleek, black suit. Joe’s grey blended him into the shadow of the corner, with only the gleam of the lights reflecting off his tie pin to betray him. Spears sat outright in the light.

It was Joe’s job to look out for trouble: unwanted visitors, be it prohibition officers or visiting bullets. It was Spear’s job to keep an eye on the bustle of employees as they scurried around the room like ants carrying droplets of booze. All three of them relaxed in their seats. The weekend, twinged already with Valentine’s promise, was quickly approaching. And business was sure to boom with pairs of love birds looking to wet their throats.

To one soul, the weekend promised something else: payday. Her usual cigarette tray sat in its place in the back. With the rush of patrons, Mr. Spears had asked her to help with taking and delivering orders that night. Esther Garnier was happy to oblige. If she gave a lone gentlemanly patron enough of a wink when she slid him his drink, sometimes he slid her delighted tip back. Her eyes, dark but always gleaming with awareness of the wonder of the world and looking for fun, matched the darkness of her hair, pinned up in a fashionable bob. Her majestic nose, inherited from generations of the Jewish women before her, stuck out too much, in her opinion. But she was proud of it. And it had been the source of her parents’ first warning when she moved into the city.

“Make sure to keep out of trouble. Keep that nose clean, and you won’t terrify your Mother and I with seeing your name in the paper.”

As if they would. To Esther, Chicago seemed a lot safer than the papers liked to spread around. Despite Howls being raided before, she’d made it out then. Not that she’d ever write about that to her parents, or where she actually worked.

If anything about her features would get her into trouble, it was her ears. Tucked under her hair as they were, she could still hear the bustle of the crowded room. The chatter of the patrons and calls for one ‘coffee’ or another. The clatter of shoes on the dance floor, and the intoxicating swell of the band. More than once the music had streamed in through her ears and had taken over her brain and her feet. But she had only backed into a full tray of drinks once, which the server immediately forgave her for. In return for a dance on her break.

She was doing her best to focus on the flow of orders instead of the dancers coming out for a number when a pair of fingers tugged at her hem.

“What’s it take to get a drink around here?”

Esther turned around to the patron. She’d never seen his face before, but there were new people coming in every day. “Depends on what kind of coffee you’d like.”

“Coffee? But this is- what kinds of coffee do you got?”

“Only the best. Irish coffee, Russian coffee, mountain coffee if you would like a bit of the moon in your drink, and plenty others besides. What kind of coffee were you looking for?”

The man’s eyebrows shot up. “Well, with such a selection, I’ll start with… a Manhattan Macchiato?”

Esther grinned. “I’ll get that right out, sir. Enjoy the show.”  As she headed to the bar to retrieve the drink, she made a note of the pun to pass up to the manager. If she got a second later to think, maybe she could come up with a few more. Mr. Spears was always welcome to new ideas to pass up the line. But the showgirls rushed into place on the dancefloor with a fanfare, and the music rose. There wouldn’t be room in her head for more than orders and light wit until they were done. At the bar, she signaled the bartender and whispered the order to him. Despite the assuredness that the door guards wouldn’t let in anyone who would squeal, it was best not to mention alcohol out loud outright.

It had been two months since the earlier version of this bar had been taken down in a raid. And it was two hungry weeks before Esther heard from a friend that this location opened. Hopefully this one would last longer. Rent was coming due soon.

Just as Esther was delivering the drink, two men in pinstripe suits sat down at the remaining corner table. Their chest pocket handkerchiefs stood out the most: alternating beige and red. Esther thought it was odd to wear two handkerchiefs at once. She wouldn’t have thought anything more about it; patrons came in various levels of best-dress. But these two were too… observant. She couldn’t think of another word to describe it: how they took in the green velvet chairs, the verdant wallpaper with its gold gilding, and the movements of the staff. All without a glimmer of a smile of enjoying a good time. One of them brushed his eyes over Esther and her order. As she placed it down, she couldn’t repress a shiver. What worried her more was how the man checked his watch. She hoped he was waiting for a friend, and not several people with badges.

As the musical number came to a close, she moved on to cover her other tables for the night.

Across the floor, the opposite corner from the pinstriped watchers, sat the three men who had the most to gain and lose from this weekend’s coffee intake. They didn’t notice the newcomers; or if they did, they didn’t give them a second thought. Sitting on the outside, Spears headed off to see to the coffers in the back office.

Wardlow leaned over to the man sitting in the shadows to be heard over the din. “There’s more people here than last weekend. How soon can I count my chickens?” When his partner managed nothing more than a humored sniff, he asked, “what? You did a great job increasing security. And the police’s weasels have been identified blocks before they reached here, and diverted. No dimes dropped, and our doors are still open.” He followed the shadow’s gaze over the crowd. “What’s troubling you, Joe?”

“I think we should have let a few of those weasels through. In a controlled way, so they still saw nothing.” Joe crossed his arms and leaned back in his seat. “Maybe just two. Without them, the police probably have enough information of where we are not to have a perfect circle around where we are. I’ll ask around and see if I can hire some guys before tomorrow’s holiday.” He dropped his voice to a grumble. “Not that’ll do any good with all these lovebirds flying through our doors.”

It wasn’t a bad consideration. Wardlow nodded, and started to discuss arrangements for how much to pay the new muscle, and he negotiated how long they would stay on the tab. There were other enterprises to upkeep, too. Nearly three years of doing business and he still appreciated Joe’s attention to detail. Even if it was expensive and gummed up the works.

In the far corner, one of the pinstripes checked his watch again, and bobbed his head at his partner. Together, they rose and headed toward the stage.

Esther was just moving out of the way of the next musical number when the shouting began. It started at the hidden entrance. And it was quickly followed by hatchets coming through the slide-away door. She froze for a second as the crowd jumped to flight.

“This is a raid! You are all under arrest for-“ The rest of the prohibition officer’s command was swallowed up by the pandemonium to evade capture.

Esther headed the opposite way of the crowd. There were only three exits out of Howls: the door that had been hacked apart, the alley exit that emptied out into the park and was usually the safest exit (the police were surely blocking that one already), and the delivery door behind the stage. Esther headed toward the third option. On her way, she bumped into the two strangers and caught a glimpse of their sneers as they watched patrons land in handcuffs. She wasn’t keen to stick around for her own bracelets and quickly moved on. She was out into the alley and halfway down the block before she realized that this meant another missed payday. With a groan, she ran faster towards home.

Inside, the pinstripes watched as the corner table was surrounded, and Wardlow and Joe were pinned in. Satisfied, they used the commotion of the stage girls being rounded up to take the loading exit.

Two cops sauntered up to the table, one with a toothpick in his mouth. The other slicked back his hair and stepped his muddy boot onto the seat of one of the chairs. “Good to see ya’, Wardlow. Mr. Joe. What were you drinking tonight?” He reached over, taking up the coffee cup and taking a sniff.

“Milk,” Joe answered. “It’s good to see you too, Officer Parker. Officer Menard. If you like, the kitchen’s probably empty and we can get you a nice cold glass to take back to Jericho.”

“Who’s Jericho?”

“Your boss!”

Officer Menard ripped the toothpick out of his mouth, pointing it like a switchblade towards the men. “Hey! Our boss is the state of Chicago!”

Closing his eyes so he could focus on his breathing, Wardlow did his best not to laugh.

Parker tossed the cup to one side, unflinching when it shattered against the wall. “Look here, Mike. The whole city knows this is your place.”

The boss shook his head. “That’ll be hard to prove. I’m just here to enjoy the night air.” He grinned as he and Joe were taken into custody. “What odds do you want, Joe, that we’ll be out by morning?”

“I’ll match and double whatever you say, but I think we’ll be out in a few hours.” He jerked towards the cop standing at his side, laughing when the man flinched back.

“And I’ll wager that you two will be there permanently, as a Valentine’s gift.” Menard nodded. “Take them outside with the others.”

Joe won by a landslide as Wardlow’s lawyer met them at the station.

\\*//

February 14

South Westside Apartments

Esther woke up, nearly heaving with queasiness. She couldn’t wait two weeks for a paycheck. Not this time. The last stint had eaten through what little savings she’d had. Most of her friends worked a similar risky business, and wouldn’t have nearly enough to share without taking food and rent out of their pockets.

Maybe not everybody got nabbed.

She pushed the thought away. Yes, there had been other dark bodies fleeing in the darkness. What did it matter is anyone got away besides her? Moving slowly, she began to put on her day clothes. What for, she wasn’t sure. She didn’t consider herself a lounger, but today would have been a good start. Hunger waits between growls longer if you don’t move as much.

Maybe someone will be in the office.

Scoffing at herself, Esther finished with her stockings. Then she stopped. Would it be too soon for management to begin picking up the pieces? If they didn’t get nabbed the night before, if the cops waited for stragglers… then again. They caught a lot of people last night. Plenty to make the Prohibition office look good to the government and public who hated the booze racket. Maybe someone would be there. No guarantee they’d have anything for her, she added. Picking up the pieces probably meant budgeting for a rebuild.

Aloud, she wondered, “what’s the harm in asking?” Esther gave herself a final look in the dingy mirror and shrugged. If this didn’t work, maybe she could hit up the corner grocer’s and see if she could get her old job back. Or maybe see if they knew of anyone hiring. As she put on her coat, she took note of all the maybes that suddenly filled her morning.

Despite its size, Chicago kept tight circles. And the number of blocks didn’t matter when hunger was threatening. Esther fought through the brisk wind, strengthened in its howling by the tunneling between the buildings. She pulled up the thin coat collar to her neck. No matter what they paid her today, there wouldn’t be enough for both the rent and a new coat. Not even a “new to Esther” coat.

At the halfway point, she paused in front of the local mechanic shop. Through the front window she could see the pot of coffee steaming against the cold air that threatened to freeze her bones. The owner, a kind older man named Bill, had been a regular at both versions of Howls, and he was sweet on her. He was the one who had dropped their need for a cigarette girl before both openings of Howls. Looking both ways, Esther crossed the street towards the garage entrance where she knew he’d be working on somebody’s car. If she smiled really bright, maybe he’d give her a cup of that coffee… and maybe a ride to the office.

Taxi cars, Bill’s strongest income, lined the walls. A few guys stood by the back door into the small square office. But if Esther knew Bill, he was probably under one of the vehicles. She went down the back of one row, bending down to look beneath each.

A screeching of tires knocked her off her feet.

Car doors creaked open, and several sets of shoes filed out. Something metallic clacked and the conversation by the back door immediately stopped.

In her gut, Esther knew she should stay low. But she dared a peek, looking through the open back windows of a taxi. Her blood froze to see the gun muzzles poking out from beneath the coats of the sudden visitors.

One more man got out of the car. He looked the captive group over, his thick curls barely contained by his hat. Calm as ordering a sandwich he said, “I just want to talk. Nothing heavy. Face the wall so my friends can if any of you are heeled.”

Eyeing each other, and one by one, the group of men turned to face the wall. Esther almost screamed when a bucket of tools knocked over somewhere. One of the gunmen, with a mess of wildly curly hair, twisted toward the sound. He waved his hand with a smile. “Join us. Come on.”

Esther wanted to run. She wanted to call for help. Instead, she was frozen as Bill was guided to stand with the others. Seven in all.

The man in charge nodded his head.

His men whipped out their machine guns and mowed down the men at the wall. The terrifying sound echoed and ricocheted like an earthquake in the small garage. Blood and brick chunks reduced to powder filled the air, making it hard to breathe. It was only seconds. Then Bill moved one last time. More shots rang out.

Esther’s lungs filled with a scream. A large hand covered her mouth and an arm wrapped around to pin hers down.

“Don’t move. Don’t make a sound,” he whispered.

The leader muttered, “you dug this grave, old friend; now lie in it.” He turned away, but at the last minute tossed something onto the bodies.

As sirens sounded in the distance, the murderers quickly piled back into the cars. Esther caught a glimpse of a few faces. A spin of wildly curly hair here. A flash of red hair there paired with a gruesome scowl. Two faces seemed familiar. It wasn’t until she noticed the pinstriped pants pulling their legs into the speeding car that she made the connection. Her vision blurred, overcome with the everything that was happening. But the presence behind her hadn’t disappeared. He guided her into a taxi by the rear door and shoved her in the back. Before she could recover, it was moving.

Police cars sped by them, ignoring the car that rolled casually down the street. The man behind the wheel eyed her through the rear-view mirror. His voice was low and surprisingly warm. “What’s your name, miss?”

It took a few breaths, but she finally managed, “Esther. Esther Garnier.”

“I’m going to take care of you, Miss Garnier. Stay low. We’re almost there.”

Almost where?

Ten minutes later, he slowed the car past a nice Brownstone townhome. Then he turned down the neighboring alley. Once they stopped, the opened her door and offered his hand. “I’m Joe. Let’s get you inside.” She lost track of what turns were left, and which ones were right. If not for Joe’s steady grip on her arm, she would have dropped like a stone in fear.

Poor Bill. And those other men. What was this about? What could possibly be worth the price of those lives?

Joe opened one last door and guided her to a high-back chair in front of a large desk. Back by the window, Esther recognized the boss. Michael Wardlow. She’d never seen him up close before, only glances between running drinks and cigarettes. Her hands quaked in her lap as Joe whispered in Wardlow’s ear. His jaw clenched, and his eyes closed with resolve. When they opened again, Esther was terrified of the fire behind them. He leaned over the back of the second visitor chair and stared her down.

“I need you to tell me everything you saw.”

“I- I-” Esther’s whole body shook. “I don’t know- I can’t. I didn’t see anything. Please.” She dropped her head into her hands. “I never want to think about it again. Please don’t ask me.”

Joe stopped by her shoulder. He shot Wardlow a mild glare and offered Esther a glass of water. “I’m afraid we have to. If there’s anything of note that you can remember, it may prevent more bloodshed. Please. Anything.”

Reluctantly, Esther thought back to the connection she made. “Pinstripes. At least two of them were wearing pinstripe suits. I only caught a glance of their faces, but I think they were in Howls last night.”

The men shared a glance. Wardlow gave her another deeper look, observing her from her shoes to the top of her head. “You were there last night?”

She nodded. “I work- I worked there. As a cigarette girl. I left through the delivery door when the raid started. And bumped into two men. I saw them again today. I saw them when-” Esther took a sip as the gunshots rang in her hears, part of the memory she knew she’d never be rid of. “I was on my way back to Schiavone’s to see if I could maybe recover my wages. Rent is coming due soon, and I don’t have enough without it.” Esther began to ramble as Wardlow’s eyes glowed with something she didn’t understand. “If it’s a problem, I don’t- I can go somewhere else. Find someplace to work to make enough. I know you probably need to rebuild, and that’s probably harder than I realize, especially since you did this all just a couple of months ago. Only without- oy gevalt. I hope they- not both times. Surely not. There was so much blood. And the man, the one who nodded so they’d shoot. He told them he just wanted to talk. The pinstripes, they work for him, right? Do their double handkerchiefs mean something?”

“Double handkerchiefs?” Joe frowned. 

“Yes. Red and beige.”

Again, the men shared a glance. Leaving Esther to catch her breath again, they moved way toward the bookshelves that lined one wall.

“Friedman.”

“Yes. Not surprising. But unfortunate.”

Wardlow fiddled absentmindedly with his cuff links. Lowering his voice further, he voiced both of their worry. “He’s making his move. Couldn’t wait until Taz’s bullpen, even. Why is he in such a rush?”

“To knock you and our allies off balance. A chopper squad is a bit heavy, but gets the job done and the point across that any friend of yours is no friend of his. Used his own men too, Darby and Perry, by the sound of it.” He had to grin. “It’s messy work when none of the Thompson teams want to work with you. Then again, neither Black nor Baker would have let witnesses escape.” Rolling back his shoulders, Joe chanced a glance at the center of the room. “What about the girl?”

Esther’s ears pricked up as she entered their conversation.

“She’s seen too much to let her loose without protection. Doesn’t help that she worked at the club.”

Joe ran his thumb along his chin. “To her credit, she didn’t make a sound all the way here. And her eye for detail… If she can replicate her tight-lip act, she might be useful. There is that stenographer role you were looking for.”

Esther’s blood ran cold, making her doubt the possibility of it ever warming up again after a day like today’s. This didn’t sound good. Though the potential alternative sounded worse. Deep in thought, she didn’t hear Joe’s footsteps on the thick carpet until he lightly dropped his hand on her shoulder. At her squeak of alarm, he quickly removed it.

“My apologies. If you’ve got a few minutes to spare in your day, the boss would like to ask you something.”

Wardlow sat in the chair next to her. The battle-ready fire was still present in his eyes, but calmer. Like he had a plan. “Would you like a job?”

“Drive that by me again?”

His face lit up with a boyish grin. “Would- would you like a job? It’ll be more secure and less stressful that the last one, I promise.”

“Well-“

Wardlow pursed his lips at Joe. “Don’t jinx us. But I don’t need another coffee or cigarette girl, at the moment. What I need is someone who can take notes. And take note of everything she sees. Now,” he slid his hands down his thighs as if to dry them off, “what’s in it for you. You would have a room here in the house, rent free as part of your wages. All meals and laundry services covered. And a car to take you anywhere you’d need to go in your free time, escort included.”

Esther looked between him and Joe with her eyes wide. “All that. Just to take notes?”

Sounded too good to be true.

With a nod, Wardlow added, “yes. The notetaking might happen at odd hours of the day or night. And you won’t share any details with anyone besides me and Joe. If that circle of information widens, we’ll let you know.”

The silence stretched uncomfortably for everyone present as she considered. Free rent sounded wonderful. She would never have to worry about a roof over her head again. But she’d read in the papers about the gangsters dropping by each other’s houses and leaving in a flurry of bullets. And explosive grenades they called ‘pineapples.’ Maybe if they gave her one of the rooms on the backside of the house? And an escort. Also doubling as a guard so she wouldn’t talk to anyone without supervision again. Or go anywhere without an extra shadow. Considering her morning, perhaps not a bad thing. She kept her eyes down but took in Joe’s solid stance. Would she make it out of the room if she said no, after all she’d seen?

Esther’s sharp intake of breath made both men flinch.

She tried again. “I think… I would like the job.”

Startling them all, the office doors burst open. The intruder waved a playing card at them. “The seven of hearts. The bastard is playing with us- oh. ‘Scuse me miss.” He gave her a double look. “Miss Garnier?”

She nodded back. “Hello, Mr. Spears.”

Half in shock, he looked over to Wardlow.

“Our new stenographer. She’s all in. All details unless I say so.” He winked at Esther. “No one can know everything. For security reasons.”

“I understand.”

Spears coughed. “Well then. We got another card. Still counting up to something. Last time was the six of clubs, when we got raided on the sixth, two months ago. And now the seven of hearts. He even included the mechanic.”

Wiping away a tear, Esther murmured, “poor Bill.”

Wardlow took another long look at Esther while she was centered in her grief. Trying not to disturb her, he remained silent and did his best not to move anything but his eyes. He liked what he saw. Physically, and internally. The tears were normal. Especially at the beginning of an occupation like this. While he hated the idea that this life would create a callous over her emotions soon enough, he welcomed that she could still mourn for now. All things considered, she was holding up well. She was going to need it.

“May I ask,” Esther said, unaware of how she was being observed, “who is ‘he’ and what is he counting up to?”

Spears scratched over the top of his head, trying to formulate an easy way to explain everything. But Wardlow stood, taking her hand to pull her to her feet. “I think you should get situated here before we bog you down with the details. One of the guys will help you pack, or our housekeeper if you’d prefer. Joe will show you your room before you go. Then we’ll have dinner and fill you in before lights out. Sound alright?”

Esther liked the warmth of his steady hand around her. “Yes. That sounds lovely.”

\\*//

Before she even left the office, she was introduced to one more member of the crew. Wardlow had whistled, and a large, dark shadow suddenly leapt off the floor. Two huge paws landed on her chest, and she was dazzled by two glittering eyes darker than hers.

“This is Ares.”

The dog’s ears pricked up at the sound of his name. He snuffled into the curve of Esther’s neck before dropping back to the floor. Still, his head nearly came up to her waist.

“Ares?” she asked.

Before Wardlow could reply, Spears answered for him. “From the boss’s name during the war. Ares is the Greek god of war, and Mike was the War Dog back in the day. Medals and everything.”

If the man could remember how to blush, Esther thought, this would have been the time. Instead, he dragged his thumb across his bottom lip before clearing his throat. “I didn’t show up till almost the end. Found a tiny puppy on my back porch when I got back. And this giant Hellhound,” he reached out, and Ares walked over to perfectly fit his ears on either side of his hand, “grew up and has been trying to eat us out of house and home ever since. But’s he’s a good lookout. Hears everything. And comes with his own alarm call.” His eyebrows shot up when Ares abandoned scritches from his master, and instead moved to receive some attention from Esther.

“You’re lovely.” She told the giant fluffy pup. “I’m sure we’ll be good friends. Did you inspire the name for Howls?” The reply she received was a tilt of his head, making his ears flop at the top. He gave her hand a lick, then went back to his earlier spot, again blending in with the dark.

After that, her first defender, and now her tour guide, Mr. Joe showed her around the house. Esther discovered that the townhome wasn’t just one house, but two. They sat side by side like a dollhouse sitting next to a mirror. Three stories, their front doors sat just a few feet from one another. He led her out of Wardlow’s office into the narrow standing space between the front door and the stairs up to the second. Without the dividing wall between the two spaces, Esther imagined a grand staircase to the second floor with how the stairs sat side by side.

“We never use this door,” he said, thumbing at the alcove. “It’s nailed shut. Not that it should be a problem, but don’t come this way if there’s a fire or other emergency. You won’t be able to get out. We do this so any visitors coming in don’t know that this half of the residence,” he circled his finger pointing at the ceiling, “is ours.” He couldn’t hide a grin as he flicked a thumb over some of the molding on the wall connecting the two houses. There was a click, then Joe gave the gap a tug. The wall, or door-size partition, swung open. Kind of like the hidden door at Howls. “This is the official side of the house.”

It was much brighter. The front door alcove to her right and the stairs to her left mirrored the side where they’d just come from. But instead of an office in the front room, there was a large circular parlor on display through a pair of open doors. It had a fireplace and a few couches, as well as a single bookshelf, though mostly devoid of anything to read. Another pair of doors in the back of the parlor led to another room.

Joe closed the wall behind them, guiding her into the hallway. After telling her the breezeway was completely open above, instead of secretly partitioned like the wall behind them, he continued. “Down this way is the dining room. We all have our meals together here.” He swung open one of the doors in the back of the parlor only enough for Esther to see the long table surrounded by chairs. He led her back into the hallway and showed her the dining room’s back door. Then he turned to a bare spot in the wall. “Back this way,” he knocked on the wall under the stairs, “is another breezeway that leads back to the kitchen behind Wardlow’s office. A special request from our housekeeper, Mrs. Anne Gusenburg. You’ll meet her and her husband soon.”

They backtracked to the front door. He next led her up the stairs, the ‘front ones’ on the official side of the house. “Bedrooms are up here. Each side has a water-closet and tub. You’ll be on this side sharing with just the Gusenburgs.”

The bathroom was immediately at the top of the stairs at the back of the floor. The Gusenburgs’ bedroom door was next in sequence of rooms. And then there were two more doors at the end of the hall. The one into the space above the parlor was already cracked open. The next room, above the front door’s alcove, was apparently storage. Around to the right through the open breezeway was the unofficial side of the house. The rest of the crew had their rooms there, including Joe.

“This’ll be your room.” Joe opened the door fully with a flourish. The room was curved, like the parlor, continuing the façade of a tower on the outside. Esther also had a fireplace above the one below, sharing the split chimney. It had more space than her current… former apartment. A modest sized bed, and a matching set of armoire, dresser, and end tables were arranged around the room. A warm Persian carpet muffled their shoes as they walked in. A chair and a small side table with a lamp sat next to one of the angled windows. Which were hung with thick curtains of light blue, complimenting the dark blue wallpaper, and the rug. Taking a second to sit on the bed, it already felt like home.

“Will this suffice?”

When she looked up, his smile already knew her answer. She breathed a reply, still processing the morning and her new residence as a whole.

“Yes. It’s more than- yes. Thank you.”

He nodded. “Alright. Let’s get you moved in.”

To their credit, the crew Joe called in were thorough. The housekeeper helped her quickly pack her clothes for the move and helped her put everything away. She lived sparsely, so it took more time for Joe to finalize things up with her landlady than for the packing-up. As the last one out the door, the last thing she removed, discreetly, was the thin metal case she kept on her doorframe. It slid into her pocket like the weight of a new step in life. Once her new room was empty of the crew, she lightly nailed it into place by the door. She kissed it with her fingers, as she would every time she entered or left her room.

When everyone was gone, and she was finally able to close her door to have some peace, Esther cried. She cried for Mr. Bill. She cried for the men she didn’t know the names of. She cried with longing for home. Home, where she didn’t have to dodge bullets and could sleep at night without worrying about what the ‘morrow would bring. But she didn’t regret moving into the city. And she thought it was too soon to even consider regretting accepting this new job. Maybe a few weeks would be enough to tell if it was someplace she wanted to stay. Or to escape. After a shuddered breath, she wiped away her tears and hopped herself to the edge of her bed. The quilt underneath her hands was thick and warm as she pushed off.

She came down in her best. While it didn’t match up with everyone else’s dinner garb, the warm greeting Wardlow gave her as she came down the stairs washed away any hesitation. He offered his elbow and led her into the parlor.

“These are the Gusenburgs. You’ve met Mrs. Anne,” he gave the housekeeper’s thin hand a light squeeze, “and this is Mr. Jim. He’s our Butler and sees to the kitchen. If you need anything at all and I’m not around, these are the people to talk to.” He shook Mr. Jim’s hand.  

Both of the Gusenburgs were aging, but still had young eyes. The wrinkles on their faces told Esther that they were easy to smiles. They returned her greeting warmly and welcomed her in before excusing themselves to finish dinner.

The double doors were opened into the dining room. She could see now how the exterior dining wall would have large windows, though they were covered up with thick velvet drapes. It gave the space a quiet, homely feel, but large enough for community-style dining. A few crew were already at their seats, while the rest mingled in the parlor. Esther had to hide a giggle when Spears made a show of knocking on the wood in a corner, making a small hidden bar swing out.

“What can I make for you?” Wardlow pulled out two glasses. “I’m not a bartender, but I’m sure I can manage something sweet to match your smile.”

Esther wished she had a fan like her grandmother used to carry to cover her face. It would be rude to flirt with the boss on her first day. “I shouldn’t. Three sips into anything and I’m already stumbling.” She shrugged. “That’s why I was the cigarette girl.”

“We can’t have you stumbling.” Wardlow took hold of a bottle of flavored syrup and poured it over ice, followed by a seltzer. “Here. Nothing illegal,” he finished with a wink.

With thanks, she took the glass. It wasn’t too sweet. The carbonation tickled her nose. “It’s lovely. Is it alright to ask now what kind of notes I’ll be taking?”

“Yes.” Wardlow took a sip of his drink as he gathered his thoughts. “With the kind of business I do, documentation walks a fine line of remembering details, and keeping information out of the hands of… people who don’t want me to thrive. For the most part, your job will be to observe the people I’ll call in for meetings and take note of patrons at the establishments, just like you were doing. For the more detailed items, like keeping track of spoken agreements, your notebook will be locked in the safe every night.” He glanced down at her. “You don’t happen to know shorthand or have a code or note-taking already, do you?”

“I’m afraid not.”

He bobbed his head. “No loss. Oh- And, despite the circumstances, you actually joined the crew at a good time. I’ve got an announcement for dinner.”

Their attention was drawn to the door as a chorus of voices welcomed in another member. He was a little taller than Esther, with short dark hair and warm brown eyes that glinted mischievously from across the room. Wardlow laughed aloud and walked over to clap him on the shoulder.

“You’re still alive!”

“Don’t sound so disappointed. I might think you don’t like me.” The man turned to listen to Spears and Esther gasped. His right eye was swollen and colorful in various shades of purple.

Wardlow gently turned him back. “Is this some of Jericho’s handiwork?”

“Hardly.” He gingerly ran a fingertip around the bruise. “Though I think Hager’s been getting more practice here of late. Managed to catch me off guard this time.” He finally spotted Esther. “Well- hello, Doll.”

At Wardlow’s invitation, she stepped closer. “This is Esther Garnier. She’s going to be our stenographer moving forward. Miss Garnier, this wreck of a man is Ricky Starks. My best set of eyes and ears in the city… when he isn’t bruised and broken.”

“It doesn’t happen too much, not to worry.” Starks took a gentle hold of her fingertips and drew her close enough to kiss her knuckles. “Welcome to the team, Cherie.”

“Th-thank you.”

Over Esther and Ricky’s head, Joe watched Wardlow’s impassive face. Spears cleared his throat. “Din’s ready.”

Before Wardlow could offer his arm again, Starks was there to lead her into the dining room. Her seat was marked with a name card, placing her at Wardlow’s left. Joe sat to his right, and Spears sat at his. Starks sat on Esther’s left. She noted that she’d probably stolen his seat, though he didn’t seem to mind. As the food drifted in, so did Ares. He took a proud position between Wardlow and Joe, waiting for his share. Dinner flowed pleasantly. Starks didn’t speak too much about his evening’s adventures. And he declined Mr. Jim’s remedy for his eye. All the while, he kept Esther engaged and introduced the other members of the crew around the table. She did her best to remember. But she was always better with faces than names. While Starks turned the conversation to a boxing match out in Cicero, she noted that she would need to be better with names for this job to stick.

After the last plate had been cleared, Wardlow stood. His presence immediately demanded attention. All conversation ceased.

“I would like to begin tonight’s debrief with a moment of silence. We lost six good men, and a dear ally this morning. Their families are already being taken care of. While I’m glad the loss didn’t include any of our senior members, as it could have,” he added, nodding at Joe, “they were all crucial to this enterprise. Let’s remember them.”

He bowed his head, and those around the table followed. Even Ares placed his head on his paws. Esther closed her eyes and did her best to remember Bill’s smiling face and his laugh. Especially when his son, just barely into the apprenticeship with his father, would drop a tool on his face while under a chasse with a clatter. With a sharp gasp, Esther pushed the sound of the falling toolbox out of her mind before the following shots could inflame her memory again.

“Thank you.” Wardlow sat down and motioned for a member to hand Esther a pen and notebook. “This is Miss Garnier. She will be taking notes at these sessions and future business meetings to combat accusations of mishandled agreements. It’s going to come in handy this week.” He shared a look with Joe. Esther glanced around and watched everyone’s faces for Wardlow’s announcement. “Taz and Jade Cargill are coming up next week to settle a selling price for a portion of their territory. Most details are still up in the air, but he told me at least Jericho is coming. It’s looking like an informal Bull Session. As things develop, I’ll let everyone know. Or tell Miss Garnier, and she’ll pass it along. As we stand, this room will become the office, per usual, and the rest of the house will be off limits to visitors. If you see anyone wandering, kindly, but forcefully, reroute them here. Understood?”

Grim nods and grunts of acknowledgement sounded around the table.

He took a deep breath. “I’m not going to lie to you. The hit on Howls isn’t going to be as easy of a recovery as last time. And a few of you know how that wasn’t easy. Say nothing. Act normal. And continue our side ventures as usual. If anybody starts asking money questions, let me and Joe know so he can… pay them a visit.”

Joe nodded with barely hidden glee. Esther wondered how often he “visited” those with questions.

“Besides that, Joe’s gonna pick out the guys to watch the perimeter. And Starks is going to keep an ear to the ground. Since his vision won’t be so sharp for a few days.”

Starks joined the chuckling at his expense. “Wanna hear what I picked up today?” He continued when prompted. “Jericho doesn’t want Taz’s land. What he wants is for Omega’s territory to shrink. He doesn’t even want that land. In his mind, he has plenty of blocks to continue his empire. While things are in flux, Jericho doesn’t want his growth to get caught in the line of fire.” He shrugged. “I don’t blame him. Apparently, someone else in the force is looking out for Omega’s place, and one of his casinos is next on the target list. So, this meeting might be interesting.”

The names were swirling in Esther’s mind. It felt like she was keeping up. Wardlow was a threat to Friedman, and vice versa, as this morning showed. And Jericho and Omega were business enemies in… the casino racket. Prohibition hadn’t just taken out booze; gambling was also a delicate and lucrative business.

She twitched her fingers in the air. “May I ask, why is Mister- um. Mr. Taz selling some of his- ah…”

“Some of his territory?”

“Yes.”

Wardlow lit up, impressed with her grasp of things already. “He’s got a son going into boxing.”

“Kid’s good too,” Starks added.

“But trainers cost money.” Wardlow rubbed his thumb and forefinger together. “Not to mention, if they land in the wrong ring, some of those places are fixed. He’d only make it if Taz can buy his son’s way into a title shot. Without the dough,” he snapped, “the kid’s career is over before it began.”

“He’ll need to be careful. Or Jade might take over before he can shrink the territory too small.” Joe grunted, crossing his arms. “She’s a force to be reckoned with. And a quick learner.”

“Mhmm.” Wardlow let all the data settle in. Esther could almost see the dark spots form under his eyes as he thought. “I think that’s caught us all up for now. Feeling in the know, Miss Garnier?”

“Y-yes. I’m alright.”

“Good. Everybody, get your rest. We’re gonna need it.” He stood, backing out Esther’s chair before Starks had a chance to. But when Spears flagged him down for one reason or another, the smaller man whisked her off into the parlor.

Starks wrapped her hand around the crook of his elbow. “Feeling at home yet?”

She looked back at Wardlow, who waved her on. “I suppose so. This first night will be a test.” She drifted into silence as he led her up the stairs. When he brought her to her door, she flinched her hand on his elbow. “How big is this… that is, the territories. How many are there? How much of Chicago is under some sort of control?”

“There isn’t an inch that isn’t under somebody’s thumb. As for who’s got what,” he shrugged. “That changes almost on the daily. I can try and sketch it out for you tomorrow if you’d like.”

“I would, thank you.” She folded her hands together against her skirt. “Will your eye be alright?”

“Oh, yeah. I’ve had worse than this.” At Esther’s alarm, he floundered to reassure her. “Not often, mind you. And your role here won’t put you into any danger. The boss and Joe wouldn’t let anything happen to you. From what I heard on my way here, Joe’s taken a shine to you, like watching over a little sister.” He chuckled. “It’ll be weeks before he lets you out of his sight, probably.”

“Really? Oh.” Esther bit her lip. “Just before dinner, I realized I left something at my old place. Do you think he’d have time to take me back for it? It’s just a scarf, but it was my mother’s that I lent to a friend and-“

“I’ll take you there myself. Don’t worry about the eye; I’ll be able to see the road just fine.” He kissed her knuckles again. “Until tomorrow, Miss Garnier.”

When he came traipsing down the stairs a few moments later, Wardlow and Joe noticed together the bright grin on his face. Before Joe could comment, Wardlow briskly walked to his office and shut the door.

\\***//

Chapter 2: Like a Shot

Series Masterlist

[deepdisireslonging]

Upcoming Series: Choices

Starting next Friday and scheduled to run all the way into August: a series with our favorite AEW wrestlers that takes place in 1920's Prohibition Chicago.

Wardlow runs a large portion of the city's underground, and a popular speakeasy known as Howls. Esther Garnier works there right up until the night it's raided by the police. When she tries to go back the next day, she witnesses a little too much of the underworld gang life. For her safety she has to join Wardlow's crew. It becomes a race against time and men to figure out who is terrorizing not just Wardlow's gang, but all the major gangs and keeping them at each other's throats. When Esther finds out, she regrets ever stepping foot into Howls.

Note from the Author:

I'm going to be heading overseas on a month-long dig the day the prologue posts. There will not be a tag list for this series, so keep an eye out! All the chapters should come out every Friday at 11 am (EST). I may or may not have a lot of internet access while I'm gone, but if something goes wrong (a chapter doesn't post or the link breaks), message me anyway and I'll hopefully see it when I can.

This is a complete series. So there will be no excuse for idiots wanting to plug it into AI (aka the Plagiarism Machine) for an ending. Please don't. Just don't. I've put a lot of hard work into this and do not want it stolen.

This series has been in the works since November of 2022! I'm super excited to share it with you. Please reblog the chapters to share it with your friends. And leave me plenty of comments as you try to solve the mystery before Esther!

Happy reading! I can't wait to hear/see/read your reactions ❤️

[deepdisireslonging]

Choices Chapter 11: Ace of Hearts

Esther and Wardlow go back to Howls to confront Joe and, hopefully, the Dealer. When they get there, both Spears and Ricky have been knocked unconscious. They all make a terrible discovery.

Warnings/Promises: gun appearance, Esther in peril (everyone in peril technically), cw blood

Word Count: 6330

Note: This is the last chapter! The epilogue will come out tomorrow. Thank you all for coming along on this journey. Happy reading!

Chapter 10: Never His

Sunday, February 24, 1929

Schiavone’s Family Funeral Parlor, Southside Chicago

The Chicago evening flew past the car as Wardlow zipped between slower vehicles and made sharp turns down side streets. There wasn’t a single cop along the path. Or at least none willing to take up the chase. At first, this was a blessing. One less obstacle to combat. But Esther watched Wardlow’s knuckles pale as they gripped the steering wheel tighter and tighter. She thought about Jericho’s connection to the police. Whether it was the casino owner who didn’t want the force out tonight, or possibly the Dealer and his connections, neither option seemed good.

Not for the first time, Esther second guessed her inclusion on this hunt. Despite her ability “to make her own life decisions,” or her claim to it, the drive was rattling her spine. Or was she the one who was shaking? She had been grateful for Wardlow’s assistance to the car. The guns in her pockets weighed her down like stones, slowing her feet and damaging her nerve. Maybe she should have stayed back with Mr. Taz. Maybe she should have declined the guns. Maybe she should have stayed home on the morning of February fourteenth. Too late for all that now. So what if her decisions of late had brought from bad to worse, from one frying pan to another as she hurtled down chilly Chicago streets toward the fire?

She had also met wonderful people. Complicated, messy people with histories Esther could never hope to fully understand.

If she could, would she change anything?

Wardlow turned into the last street towards Howls and slowed down. The car that Spears and Ricky had taken was parked at the far end of the block. There weren’t any other vehicles in the vicinity. Wardlow parked right at the funeral home front. He walked around, opening Esther’s door and offering his arm like a good grieving man. They ignored the ‘closed’ sign in the window. Esther noted the addition at the bottom of the board, ‘soon to be under new management.’ How long had that been there? Had everyone known this was the Poker Game meeting place but Wardlow’s crew?

The key in Wardlow’s hand hovered over the lock. Maybe whoever had put up the addition had also changed the locks.

It slid home. And turned.

Wardlow locked them in. They shed their coats for better movement. The open air revealed the ready Thompson in Wardlow’s hands. With a nod, he guided Esther toward the empty speakeasy. The wind suddenly picked up outside, rattling the door. She jumped, and rushed to walk closer to the man who didn’t even flinch.

He scoured the hallways and each room that led to the hidden door that should have revealed a jumping, boozy good time. He stilled as one open door revealed a body laid out on the floor.

“Stay close,” he whispered.

Turning the body over, he cursed to see Spears. He checked for breath, and then a pulse. “He’s alive. Just out cold.” Seeing the red expanse across his neck, Esther laid her hand over her throat, reminiscing about the pain he would wake up to. Shifting Spears again, Wardlow noticed the ropes around his wrists and ankles. He flicked open a knife, cutting those away. “He’ll be fine,” he whispered, leading Esther out of the room. “When he wakes up, he’ll join us. If we finish up before then, we’ll retrieve him on the way out.” He left the knife since Spears’s own gun was missing.

Even though she nodded, she couldn’t help wondering: if Spears and Ricky had come through the back, how had Spears gotten surprised up there? And where was Ricky?

Outside the speakeasy panel, Wardlow pushed aside the wall clock to reveal a keyhole. Again, he paused his key.

Esther’s blood was thrumming. Every passing second felt like an hour. “What is it?”

“Nothing.” The key slid in.

She placed her hand over his. “You’ve figured something out. What is it?”

“Nothing. I’m hoping that I’m wrong.”

He pressed his thumb against the paneling like the hidden doors at home. The wall popped open, swinging wide under Wardlow’s grasp. He went first, machine gun at the ready.

Howls was dark and empty. Esther couldn’t help but hear the memory of her nights working here. But, the memory was only a ghost of what remained. Where the green wallpaper used to reflect the light of a jumping night, now it made her feel like she was walking into an abandoned forest. The tables had their chairs flipped on top. Some were missing a leg or two, likely broken in the raid. Scattered between the tables, crates (opened and nailed shut over the firepower) sat like a kid’s killer game of hopscotch. The bar’s back mirror was still shattered, fractured from several points. The only light was the solitaire stage light. Its bulb created a sickly orange glow that created more dark shadows than a new moon.

It revealed another prone body at the base of the stage.

She would have known those shoulders anywhere.

“Ricky!” Dodging tables, chairs, and crates, Esther rushed towards the stage.

The body stirred, and Ricky groggily turned. His eyes widened as a shadow moved beside her path. “Esther, no! Go back!”

But she was already halfway there, and wasn’t about to stop. Ricky thrashed against the ropes around his arms. They were loose enough for him to escape, but still restrictive enough to ensure things still played out as his attacker intended.

A thick arm snagged Esther’s neck when she was just a few steps away. She screamed, but it was cut off as the grip tightened, cutting off her oxygen. The Dealer left her just enough room to catch her fingers around the constrictive limb, barely holding it away from her throat. Panting, and doing her best to stay conscience, she glanced up. Maybe it would have been better to slip into darkness.

The Thompson in Wardlow’s hands clacked as he pointed it towards them. “Let her go, Joe.”

“Why should I?” Joe dug his revolver into Esther’s side. “With her-” He shifted away from the stage as Ricky stumbled to his feet. “If we all cooperate nicely, we can settle this peacefully.” Flicking his gun at Wardlow, he growled, “toss it.”

The heavier gun slid across the floor under a table. Wardlow made a slow show of emptying his holster too, holding open his jacket to prove he was completely unarmed. He glanced at Ricky, who shook his head after patting his pockets. Apparently, Joe had been thorough in disarming Ricky while he was out.

“Now that we’re on an even playing field, how about the two of you set us up a table. Where we can talk like civilized gentlemen in front of the lady.”

Loudly, irritated and burning that he couldn’t do anything but what Joe said, Ricky scraped a chair off the table closest to the stage. He and Wardlow set up three more, then adjusted them according to Joe’s direction. Two of the chairs, sat close together, had their back to the stage. The other two were spread out, creating a clear sight to the hidden door at the back of the room. The gun pressed into Esther’s side, guiding her to stand behind one of the two chairs in front of the stage. And it’s light. She realized that its presence would partially blind the other two men.

But with their backs to the stage, and Howl’s void of any jumping music or the usual bustle, they could hear the storm picking up outside through the loading door. The one Esther had escaped through almost a month ago. The revolver in Esther’s side flinched, digging in as the wind whistled down the back alleyway.

This amused Wardlow as he took his seat. “Big man in an even bigger storm. It’s just the wind, Joe. Show it your gun, why don’tcha? Make it play your game.”

“Shut up.” Joe inhaled deeply. “I have half a mind to clip all three of you and be done with it, but I would like to avoid an all-out war with your allies.”

Esther winced at the grip Joe squeezed into her arm as he shoved her into the chair. She was closer to Ricky, diagonal to Wardlow, who had Joe between them. It didn’t matter the seating arrangement. It wouldn’t be easy to get out of this, if she could get out at all. This wasn’t the hostage situation with Friedman. There would be no empty gun. No more empty tricks. Still, Joe didn’t seem like the man to go through so many mysterious troubles to get what he wanted. “Why?”

“Why avoid war? Because-”

“No. That too, perhaps. But you’ve never shied away from bloodshed in this… complicated endeavor. Why the cards? Why all of this to, what, form your own crew? To claim your own territory?” She glared at him as best she could with teeth chattering in fear and rage. “Why all the theatrics?”

Joe grinned first at her, then at Wardlow. “That’s a long story with a history going way back. And nobody else but your fearless leader there is to blame for ‘all this’ as I am.” He used the gun like an accusing finger, keeping the other two men on edge. At any second, he could pull the trigger and not bat an eyelash. “Would you like to tell her what you did? Confess like Ricky did earlier, or should I?” He dug the gun back into Esther’s side. “No, you’re right. I should tell it.”

But Wardlow’s brow pinched. The history he had, that he thought he understood, did not explain the betrayal sitting before him. In his story, long ago, he tried to help his crew by setting up an alliance with Omega. But Friedman, already half-way into an alliance with Jericho, took it like getting stabbed between his shoulder blades. He took it that Wardlow was going into things for himself. Maybe he was. Either way, Friedman had kicked him out and tried to have him killed. And Joe had found him, helping him escape that fate. Which opened up the opportunity to align himself with Omega, starting the whole crew. He said as much, summarizing it as best as he could for Esther and Ricky.

“You never did ask why I was at the soup kitchen that day.” Joe settled into his seat. “It never crossed your mind that I may have had a reason for being there, behind you, instead of looking for a job. In fact, I was already on one. What I had been looking for was a way into the building, the back of it. Where I could take out your old boss. But then you got in the way.”

The expressions that shuffled across Wardlow’s face switched between surprise, confusion, and incredulously. “Why didn’t you say so? I would have been more than happy to-”

“Help me? So I could then feed a DumDum into the back of your skull once it was over? No.” Joe shook his head with a grin. “Jericho was only paying me to scare your boss into line or kill him. Not to wipe out the lot of ya. Yes, Jericho hired me. He didn’t take kindly to what he considered a double cross, that business deal you made with Omega. But… I was able to report back that you were the one that made the deal… behind Friedman’s back. He was delighted to make amends. And I got paid either way.”

Esther bit her lip as the gun bit into her side, shifting up from one rib to another. Across the table, Ricky bit down on his thumb knuckle, his eyes constantly flicking around looking for a way out.

“I’m not sure why I ended up coming to the house that night. Back when it was only one side. I guess I liked that brazen boy. Liked his style.” A shadow passed over his eyes. “Until he stole my opportunities out from under me. You moved fast enough to beat me to choosing the best of the city, but so slow it made my veins burn,” he held out with a snarl. “I knew the best way to break that boy, and the man he became, was to create distrust in the ones closest to him. Spears would have been a prime choice, defecting from the shared former boss and all. But then, Starks, you showed up. Starks with a secret to hide.” Joe laughed, making Esther flinch. “It’s a good thing that you didn’t try to work at Feathers or Jazzies. You don’t have the poker face for it. You’ve gotten better… but early on. Every time Wardlow or old Taz talked about that mysterious job that ended your time in your beloved Louisiana; I’m surprised nobody figured it out before Cole showed up. You lucked out with your crewmates forgetting about it.” He brandished the gun again, pointing it at the younger man before returning the muzzle back to Esther. The cool metal practically burned against the side of her temple. “Now your luck’s run out.”

She didn’t know when she had started shaking during Joe’s history lesson. But the quake up her spine spread to her limbs. She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t see. She couldn’t get out.

“Where’d the game come from?” Wardlow purposefully maintained a glare with Joe, never breaking. But he settled into his chair as the gun drifted back down to Esther’s side and she finally inhaled a shaky breath. “From what I know ‘bout your history before Jericho’s job, you always worked alone. How’d you get all-”

“I was invited.”

Joe’s smile reminded Esther of pictures she’d seen of a barracuda.

“By your old friend Ethan Page, Miss Garnier. He saw me silently… disagree with Wardlow at some function or another and I earned a seat at the game. From there, we realized where the real talent was in this city. They just needed someone to lead them. Someone had to take that first step. You have to be assertive in this business. Decisive. Something you are not, Wardog. You wait too much and for too long to play your hand. I never understood it.”

He growled at the ceiling. “If you want another block, either pay for it or take it. Don’t sit there stewing over a pincushion map while someone else runs what should be your territory.” Joe’s eyes slid across the table to Ricky. Who straightened in his chair. “And if you don’t like a guy, you take him out. Personally. You don’t keep listening to excuses. You don’t keep sending him on suicide missions for someone else to do the job. And you certainly don’t let him woo the woman you want.”

The wind was howling outside. Inside, the whole building creaked and whined under the force. The chairs crackled as each member of this meeting shifted in their seat. Something fell outside; it jostled Esther like a slammed door. Distracted by the noise, she didn’t realize that the gun had moved until the sight of the end of the muzzle was tracing the curve of her bottom lip. It pressed down to make her look at Joe.

“How was he?” Joe crooned. “Did our dear Michael at least make it good for you?”

“I – I – he… he didn’t-”

Joe huffed. “Of course he didn’t. Like I said: indecisive. Go on, Wardlow, tell her. Tell her why you kept sending Ricky into danger. It wasn’t just because you thought he was the leak, was it?”

When Wardlow was unforthcoming with an answer, Joe used the gun to tilt her face towards his. All the while tracing it over her jaw line, under her trembling lips, and up behind her ear. Esther bit her bottom lip as if she could protect it from the metal warmed up from her own terrified skin. 

He tried to hold out. Wardlow’s grip on the table tightened until Esther was sure the wood would splinter. “Alright! Just – stop scaring her like that.” His chest heaved as Joe moved the gun back down to Esther’s side. “Yes, Miss Garnier, I’ve wanted you by my side since you walked into my office. But I knew you were never mine the second you and Ricky clapped eyes on each other. At first I was willing to let him, having seen the signs that he wanted to leave for some time. I wanted him to help you escape from all this. But the Dealer – the hits. The leak. The more I thought Ricky was to blame, the more I wanted to be rid of him. And I thought I could win you in the end. With Ricky gone in a blur of bullets… I could be your comfort. But,” Wardlow grit his teeth, “he kept. Coming. Back. When Taz brought the information about Cole, I thought I finally had you. Reason and means to finally have you for myself. And you came so willingly. For him. But I realized…” he glared at Joe, “I’m not that kind of man.”

Did she want to hate him for it? For wanting to kill another man, to kill Ricky, just so he could work his way into her heart? Maybe. His lingering gazes, always doing his most to ensure her safety, they flared up in her memory like a candle in a house of mirrors. He had included her so quickly into his circle. And she liked it. She enjoyed being included in something bigger than herself. While also cowering from its price. But he hadn’t gone through with it. And so, the hate couldn’t burn in her stomach. But the ember glowed there for Joe.

“Two men of broken promises,” Joe tutted. “You have an innate skill of finding them, don’t you, Miss Garnier?” He rested his gun arm on the table. As he talked, gesturing with it, the aim shifted between the two targets.

Did she have a preference of who he would and would not shoot?

“Why don’t you join us, Miss Garnier? The new crew? You’ve got the level head for this life. Sitting here calm as anything. Silent when Friedman and Co. shot all those guys in front of you. And a good eye. You almost caught me weeks ago when you were looking over our books. I could use a level head like yours.”

Don’t confuse my quiet for calm.

Her stoney silence wiped the smirk off Joe’s face. As he straightened, the other two men did as well. Readying to leap into action as if activated by the hare trigger. Esther was trying to take control of her own body as she clasped her trembling hands in her lap, breathing slowly and deliberately so that she could speak without a tremor in her voice. But Joe didn’t appreciate her pause.

“What is going on in that head of yours, Miss Garnier?”

Despite her earlier efforts, her chest heaved again before she could manage a few words. “Why me?” A little tension eased out of her shoulders. In the corner of her eye, she watched a shadow dart across the distant wall. “You say I’m good in a crisis. But I seem to bring danger with me no matter where I go in any territory. Always there when things go terribly wrong. I’d hate to be like a bad penny for you.”

On the table, Wardlow’s fingers flinched as something creaked in Joe’s blind spot. But with the wind again picking up outside, the Dealer didn’t notice. Ricky nodded at him, confirming he’d noticed too.

Esther pressed on. “I thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for keeping me safe. For keeping me away from all your schemes. But I can’t keep living like this.”

“But you have been willing to stay in it for them.” His temples flexed. And the gun returned to its place in her side.

She was fine, resolute in her answer. But the tremble worked back in as Joe tilted his head to observe her.

“Hmm. No matter. You could still be of use to me.”

The room filled with the Chicago wind like someone had left open a door. The wind paused. All the air in the room waited on bated breath.

“Joe, no-” Ricky swallowed hard.

“Maybe we can sell her to Friedman, eh, Wardlow?” Joe took pleasure in the gasp that eked out of pressing the gun tighter into Esther’s side. “She’ll help keep him in line. Won’t you, Doll? He gets antsy, you see. Volatile if he doesn’t have a toy to break every once in a while. As you know, Starks. With that soft heart of hers… I wonder who would break first. I bet with half a chance, she could melt him right down to butter.”

Wardlow growled, “so you’d have an excuse to push him out too? Take his territory? When will it be enough for you?”

Nothing will ever be enough for him, Esther thought.

Tutting, Joe shook his head. “And just to think, if you’d only held out with Friedman a bit longer… disgruntled as you were, you probably would have been invited to sit in. Then we still would have held all that we do. But I’d be running things. And everything would be as it should.” Joe dragged a playing card out from his jacket pocket. When it flitted to the center of the table, the bottom of the Ace of Hearts pointed at Wardlow.

“Then get it over with.” Eyes blazing, Wardlow rose enough to swipe the card off the table, posing himself to leave his seat in a second. “I’ve been your target since the beginning. Take the shot. But let the two of them go. It’s me you wanted, and it’s me you’ve got. Leave them out of this. Flip Starks, and let Esther go. We both know they won’t interfere with your plans.”

With a sniff, Joe shrugged his shoulders, thinking it over.

The gun never moved from Esther’s side.

After much deliberation, he shook his head. “No. I don’t think I can.”

As Ricky rested his head in his hands, Esther gripped the table so she wouldn’t faint out of her seat.

“Miss Garnier made a comment at the Bull Session. It was such a great cover for you not making a bid at Taz’s ground; it was a good cover for me too. She almost figured out what I was doing, even so early into her time with us. But, being so new, she had no idea what she was looking at. I bet you thought we were just bad off, Miss Garnier. All that red in the ledger. And, to an angle, you were right. Every time I hit one of Wardlow’s places, I’d ‘raise’ funds to fix it up. But as Wardlow passed over the paperwork for each one, I replaced my name on the titles for the best ones. It created some gaps in the books, but I’ve got that handled, thanks to Mrs. Baker. As my paperwork was finalized, she collected it. And the last wave was released today. Thanks for snagging my affects from Friedman, Starks. Saves me the trip of retrieving them. Now everything I own, everything I run is legitimate.”

With a huff, Ricky caught Wardlow’s eye. “Spears has about driven himself crazy trying to figure out how his math went wrong.”

From Joe’s angle, Esther knew it would seem the other two men were looking at each other. But from her angle, Ricky’s gaze was centered on the darkness just outside of the glow from the stage light.

“What does it matter?” he continued. “You can still let Esther go. You’ve got enough bullets in there for the both of us.” Ricky raised a hand against Esther’s silent plea.

“’Fraid not. She knows where I put it all.”

Did she? Esther’s mind reeled. Even if she could figure it out, it would require her to think deep and far back. Surely Joe had to know she would do her best to forget all of this and leave it behind? Just the whisper of a memory of this time working for Wardlow would weigh heavily on her for the rest of her life. “Joe – I promise I don’t-”

“Maybe not.” He glanced at Ricky. “But I won’t make the same mistake as he did with Britt Baker.”

The simmering embers in Esther’s gut flared up. “So, that’s it? I’m another… cost-effective innocent. Then again, maybe I’m not so innocent after all since I apparently know so much. But what about everyone else? How many nameless innocents have lost their lives to your Game?” She clawed at the tabletop as her lungs threatened to burst. Her vision tunneled to the man, the Dealer of all the pain that had led her here. “I have to know: did you actually check on my former landlady when Jericho shot out her window? What about everyone else who was in the wrong place at the wrong time in your ‘drive-by’ clasping of power? If the families keep it up, there won’t be anyone left in Chicago to buy their booze, plug their slot machines, or lose their lively hood to a hand of cards.

“Did you bother to learn any of their names? I can give you one: Mr. Bill. Did you – did you know he was the one who recommended Howls to me? And he let me know when the second one opened?” She had to pause, catching her breath to stop the tears from falling. “When I worked with Mary at the grocer’s, the delivery boy was sweet on her. He’d give her the oranges that bruised falling off the truck. We’d take a whole bag to Mr. Bill’s because he always looked out for us. He’d always open one, right then, to share with everyone around. He,” she had to smile, “he’d end up covered in juice, dripping to his elbows. No matter what he was in the middle of. I will never have another fruit as sweet as those shared with him. Coffee hasn’t been as bone-warming as the cups from his old percolator. Bill is gone. And each of your victims had lives just as unique and full as his. They deserved to live!”

Joe’s lip twitched with a sneer. “He was our taxi front.”

“By choice? Or did you buy up his city block and make him a deal he couldn’t refuse?”

Across the table, Wardlow flinched with the truth. His guilt deepened as Esther continued. Only Joe seemed unmoved.

“And what about Dante Martin? He was just a boy. You said he was a spy. You goaded Wardlow to… to ‘clip’ him so it would damage the alliance with Omega, didn’t you? Means to an end. What about me? What happens when you pull that trigger? Do I become just another nameless sacrificial lamb to forget, not to lose a wink of sleep over?”

“Yes.” Despite the solid reply, the gun shook in his grip.

“When does it stop?”

Joe inhaled and exhaled deeply. “Violence was here in Chicago before we got here. And it will continue long after we’re gone.”

“And blood will always beget blood. Then do it. Pull the trigger.” She turned in her seat so the muzzle pressed into her stomach. “None of them had a choice in how their lives ended. But I’m done with being afraid. I’m done with watching you cut our strings of fate. I choose this so that maybe, just maybe, this time you’ll lose sleep. And the next time you lift a gun or your fists in violence, you’ll feel my blood on your hands and hesitate. Like how when you step out into that storm you can’t escape the Chicago wind, you will never escape the memory of me, Joe. I’m making this choice. For them. For myself.”

The coldness of the room had dropped to freezing. She could see the goose pimples on Joe’s wrist where it peeked out from under his sleeve cuff. Air hissed between his teeth. He raised the gun as he stood, aiming for Esther. He aimed at her heart where it thundered as if he could silence it before it flew out of her chest. Ricky was frantic, glancing into the shadows for a way out, glancing at Esther and doing the math to see if he could intercept the bullet.

The shadows moved behind Joe, bumping a crate. Joe spun just as Wardlow leapt. The gun went off. If it hit Wardlow, he didn’t show it, tackling the Dealer to the ground. Spears joined him in the scuffle. He was still wobbly. Joe managed to roar to his feet.

Frozen, Esther jumped as a hand clamped around her elbow.

“Stay here,” Ricky said. He hid her behind a crate. The order to stay put was also a plea for her to stay out of danger.

Esther was in no hurry to join the fray. The small fight in the Bull Session had been a poor example of these men’s ability to damage another with their bare hands. Well, mostly bare. Spears fiddled with the knife Wardlow had left him. He slashed it back and forth, keeping it close to his wrist where it could still reach towards Joe’s arms and stomach, but was out of his reach of stealing. The sharp gleam managed to cut a hole up one of Joe’s sleeves, but only managed to damage the fabric. He was knocked out of play as Joe caught his jaw with a stiff backhand. On the way down, his head cracked against the edge of a crate. 

Ricky flew into the middle of it, lowering his shoulder towards Joe’s torso. But the bigger man mirrored the angle, making him bounce off into the dark. When he came back, more furious than ever, he attacked the back of Joe’s knee, halfway dropping him.

Caught in the orange light, Wardlow’s fist hurtled towards its target. It cracked against Joe’s jaw, rocking him. He fought to his feet. After kicking Ricky in the chest, causing him to curl up to one side in a wheeze, the two leaders stared each other down. They met like two colliding brick walls. Their shoulders and forearms strained against their shirts, threatening to pop the fabric as well as each other’s tendons. Joe managed to clock a hit in first, catching Wardlow’s ear. Ears ringing, and eyes watering, Wardlow still managed to crash his forehead into his opponent’s nose.

He had drawn first blood.

Joe wiped some of it away with his knuckles. A grin spread across his face. The blood dripping into his teeth reminded Esther of the lion at the zoo downtown after its keepers had fed it a raw meal. Joe sneered, hungry for more. With those same bloody knuckles, he caught Wardlow in the breastbone. The strike was just low of his throat.

The boss fell back with a gasp, coughing oxygen back into his lungs.

Ricky did the same thing, stumbling towards Wardlow’s side. Their parallel glares did nothing to intimidate their opponent.

Readying his fists, Joe nodded.

They met in a tornado of fists and limbs. Neither Ricky nor Wardlow were able to do more than immobilize one of Joe’s arms or another. And only one at a time, leaving the other to seek and collide with its targets: Wardlow’s jaw, Ricky’s torso, a kidney, a shoulder blade when he was actually aiming for the back of a neck. Esther had heard such a hit was called a rabbit punch. Illegal in boxing because it could paralyze or kill a man. There weren’t any rules in a fight like this.

As they turned and spun, knocking over chairs and splintering sides of crates, Joe’s form blocked Esther’s view. Occasionally she could see the faces of the other two men over Joe’s shoulders. Half illuminated by the stage light, the glow deepened the violent creases in their brows, and left their eye sockets dark like demons fighting for control. If Esther hadn’t known them, they would all have been inhuman.

The stage light slid across something black and metallic on the ground as a table bumped out of the way. Joe’s head twitched toward the glimmer. He set his shoulders. And spun, catching both of them with the back of his fist. As they fell in a flail of limbs, he rushed to for the gleam of Wardlow’s tossed machine gun. Esther clutched her pockets.

His fingers had just enveloped the shoulder rest when he froze.

Shaking head to toe, Esther pressed the muzzle of Ricky’s gun harder into the back of Joe’s skull. She stammered, “enough.”

Joe carefully slid to a more comfortable position on his knees, his hands raised on either side. “Miss Esther-”

“Shut up!” The gun rattled in her hand.

Wide eyed, Ricky clambered to his feet. He tripped to one side. Wardlow caught him under his arms before he could fall, though he wasn’t truly steady himself.

Joe swallowed. “Miss Garnier, we both know you won’t shoot me.” He glanced up. “You’re like Ricky. Not a killer.”

“Maybe not.” Esther licked her lips and avoided looking anywhere but the back of Joe’s head. “But I shot Page. And I wasn’t aiming then.” She took a deep breath. Her grip strengthened. “I’m aiming now.”

To the side, Spears leaned up with a groan. It only took a second for him to take everything in. He looked up at Wardlow for orders.

“You’ve got the floor, Esther,” Michael said. His eyes softened as she finally looked at him. “What do you want?”

She wanted to cry. To curl up into a ball and disappear. She wanted to wake up in her bed over her dad’s shop, with everything only having been a dream. “I want – I want to leave. To get out.”

He dragged his thumb across his bottom lip. “Always so precise. I’m going to miss watching you command a room just with your presence.” With a nod, he sent Spears after the Thompson. Slowly, and gently around Esther’s jumpiness, Michael walked around and took the gun out of Esther’s hands.

A tear tracked down her cheek. “Don’t – don’t kill him. Work this out. Please. Be the better man that I know you are.”

He nodded and caught her as she dropped her forehead into his chest. “Yes, ma’am. We’ll divorce with all the paperwork; and we’ll get him a chair at the next Bull Session. Just because violence has always been a part of the game doesn’t mean that we have to add to it. When his crew gets here, I’ll tell them. Spears’ll help.” He kissed the top of her head, lingering his lips in her hair, before forcing some space between them. “Starks?” He cleared his throat. “Promise me you’ll take care of her. Keep her safe.”

As they stared at one another, Esther watched Michael’s face. The longing she saw there knocked her breathless. But, looking at Ricky, he loved her too. And when his eyes met hers, promising safety and twinged absolutely with impending excitement, her heart did not flutter. It thumped calmly as if she were asleep. And that warmed her more than any cup of coffee ever could.

Spears guided Joe to his feet with the muzzle of the Thompson between his shoulder blades. They walked back to the table at the base of the stage. Despite the danger in his spine, Joe watched the scene with amusement, shaking his head.

Esther squeezed Michael’s hands before he passed them to Ricky.

“Do you have the keys to the car?”

Ricky checked his pockets, plucking out the keys. “Yes.”

“Take Taz’s car instead.” They switched keys. “He’ll help get you two wherever you guys want to go.” He glanced at Joe. “Get her out of here. We have some business to discuss before his guys show up. Which’ll probably be soon.” When he turned back, he shuddered under Esther’s gaze. “Take care of yourselves.”

Keep yourself safe. Please, Esther’s eyes begged.

Ricky nodded. “We will. Stay out of trouble.”

“No promises.” They shared an embrace, patting each other heartily on their backs. Then Ricky was pulling Esther away. She felt Michael’s eyes all the way to the edge of backstage. He was still looking after her, memorizing everything about her, until her final glance back before she disappeared into the back hallway.

Her exit out the loading doors was a lot calmer than the last time. No cops on her trail during a raid. Still no final paycheck. But she wasn’t alone.

Despite the cold and the wind, there was barely a flurry of flakes outside.

Ricky opened the car’s passenger door. “So. To Taz’s. I wonder if he could put in a word for me at the same gym as his son.”

Settled in her seat, Esther’s eyebrows shot up. “Boxing? That’s your next step?”

“Maybe.” He slid into the driver’s seat and started the engine. “I can take a beating. Might as well get paid for winning.” He shot her a grin.

A grin she returned. “Boxers go shirtless, right?”

With mock shock, Ricky gasped at her brazenness.

The car pulled away from the building. They hadn’t made it to the end of the block before another car pulled up and Joe’s crew spilled out. Esther watched them walk in, with Page limping at the back, and worried her bottom lip between her teeth.

“They’ll be okay… right?”

“Yeah.” He took her hand, giving it a pair of squeezes. “You’ve done a lot of good. For all of us. When they work things out here in a bit, it’ll be good for all of Chicago. How does it feel, knowing that you’ve probably saved dozens of lives?”

“It feels like deliverance.”

\\***//

Epilogue

[deepdisireslonging]

Choices Chapter 7: Secrets and Threats

Esther and Ricky share a tender moment after their date. Its interrupted by the sudden information that another of Wardlow's fronts has been attacked. Esther witnesses yet another event she wishes she could forget.

Warnings/Promises: kisses, held at gunpoint, guns shooting people

Word Count: 2700

Chapter 6: Days of Rest

Saturday, February 23, 1929

Bridgeport Township

When they pulled up to the house, all the windows were dark. Even around the thick edge of the curtains. Ricky shut the doors quietly, promising to move the car to the back.

“Once I have you settled,” he said with a wink.

Esther couldn’t help feeling aglow, but still dimmed with worry. She’d been warned that someone might offer her a job. But she hadn’t realized that one would be so quick. Britt Baker had actually taken steps to see her. Part of her mind said she should tell Wardlow and Joe right away. But there was Ricky to worry about. If Baker had taken steps, then how did she know Ricky’s movements so well?

As Ricky led her up the steps to the door, she tried to keep an even smile.

If they ask, I’ll tell them I turned her down. Didn’t even give it a second thought. So, nothing to worry about.

In the vestibule between the brownstone’s inner and outer front doors, Ricky helped Esther remove her coat. And she his.

His hands lingered when taking his coat to hang it on the hook. “I hope our surprise visitors didn’t ruin our evening. The drive there and back, I – I enjoyed our conversations. If everything stays level, maybe we can do this again?”

The vestibule did a decent job of keeping out the cool night air out of the house. Though Esther could still feel further warmth coming from the inner door. Or maybe just on her cheeks. “I did as well.”

Patiently, she waited for him to open the next door.

Instead, he took her hands, his shaking slightly.

“Miss Garnier-” His Adam apple bobbed as he swallowed. “If I’m not being too forward-”

His grip moved from her hands to her waist, pulling her body flush with his. The heat in Esther’s cheeks spread to the rest of her body, inspiring a shiver. Her breath caught, stuck in her lungs.

“Esther… come home with me?”

She failed to hold back a giggle. “We are home. We live in the same building.”

“Perhaps.” Ricky squeezed her gently. “But not on the same side. Not in the same room.”

Esther watched his eyes glitter with the invitation. But as her silence lingered, the glitter dimmed. He stepped back.

“Forgive me, I-”

“Ricky.” Her voice came out breathless. “No. It sounds… wonderful… and part of me wants to – more than anything in the world. I would love… but. But I-” She gasped softly as Ricky kissed her forehead.

His smile was warm, if a bit bruised. “It’s alright. I don’t want to rush you. We have all the time in the world.” Reaching over, he turned off the vestibule light. In the shadow of the night, she couldn’t see any remnant of his bruised eye. Or his hurt, besides the twinge in his voice. “Let me walk you to your room before I put the car back.”

Inside, despite his familiarity with the floor plan, Ricky bumped into the atrium bench. He cursed less quietly than he meant, shushing himself. Which made Esther laugh softly.

“Shh,” she urged, laughing behind her hand. “You’ll wake everyone. I’m sure they’ve all gone to bed.”

“Not all of us.”

Esther allowed Ricky to push her behind him as the parlor light switched on. She breathed a sigh of relief to see Mr. Jim by the switch. He breathed one too, lowering the shotgun in his hand.

But the others in the room weren’t as relaxed.

Wardlow stood from his chair by the fireplace. At his motion, Spears and a couple of the other men lowered and un-cocked their guns. Joe lowered his, but kept the hammer engaged.

“Spears,” Wardlow jerked his head toward the window. “Pull the car around before somebody sees it.”

“Yes, Boss.”

Confused, Ricky spun to follow Spears as he rushed out the door. When Spears wouldn’t make eye contact with him, he spun back to face the room. “What’s-”

“Where did you take her, Ricky?” Wardlow’s temples flexed, and his nostrils flared.

“To- I took her to Giovanni’s. In the neutral- what’s happened? Are we under attack?”

Esther looked around her shield to Joe, who nodded. She stepped back, swaying. The earlier glow of the evening popped within her like a soap bubble. Wardlow’s voice carried on through her haze.

“The Ninth and Park Avenue speaky got hit. Not even finished, and now we’ll have to start over. Several of us were there, including myself, when the chopper squad rode in. ‘Couple of guys got hit too, but they’ll live. I sent everyone else to back up the other locations. We couldn’t find you, either of you. I thought – we thought… the Dealer took you.” He reached out, steadying himself on the back of the chair.

Without a second of hesitation, Esther rushed to him. She placed her hand on his wrist. Mostly to steady her own shaking. “We’re alright. And now we’re back.”

He nodded. His voice softened, though it kept his business-like edge. “We received the nine of diamonds. Did you hear or see anything out of the ordinary? Was anybody acting odd at Giovanni’s?”

Ricky shook his head, answering before Esther could form the words. “No. We had a nice dinner and some nice conversation. If there had been anything off-kilter, I would have brought her back immediately.”

She did her best not to startle. But her sharp intake of breath caught Joe’s attention. He glanced at Wardlow, matching his corner gaze, and looked at the door Spears had left through. He inhaled deeply. “Alright. Now everybody is accounted for. We can’t do anything more tonight.” He raised a hand to stop Wardlow’s rebuttal. “Everyone, go get some shut eye. Each one… to your own rooms.” He smirked as Ricky glared at him.

Esther gave Wardlow’s wrist a squeeze. “I didn’t mean to worry you. Really, if we had known- if we could have-”

“At least let me finish walking Esther to her room?” Ricky held out his arm.

She glanced up, ready to stay if Wardlow wanted to talk. But he simply removed her hand and nodded her towards Ricky. Neither of them could manage to mutter “goodnight” to each other. As Esther took Ricky’s arm, she saw Wardlow grip his wrist where she held him. His knuckles lightened with the force. Then Ricky whisked her away, murmuring softly in an attempt to put her at ease.

The others filed out of the room until only Joe and Wardlow remained.

Joe looked up towards the stairs. “They got close awfully fast.”

“We did hire Ricky partly because he’s a charismatic bastard.”

After a pause, Joe lowered his voice. “You let them get close.”

A rebuttal was slow in coming. Wardlow fixed his cufflinks first. “It’s not so much that I let them… I didn’t know how to stop it.”

“Too late now.”

“Possibly.” Clearing his throat, Wardlow looked hard at Joe. “Wait half an hour or so. Then we’ll see to our visitor.”

\\*//

After tossing and turning for almost an hour, Esther finally decided to get up for a glass of water. Since moving in, Mrs. Anne had usually given her cup of tea or a water glass before they both went to bed. But with the house on high alert, such pleasantries had been forgotten.

She did her best not to make the back stairs creak on her way down. Thankfully, the thick runner down the middle did a good job of disguising her footfalls. Even then, she stuck close to the wall to avoid the well-used center, where the wood was most likely to make noise. Without too much difficulty, she made it to the kitchen. Ares lazily regarded her before settling back into his bed in front of the stove. The small water pitcher that Mrs. Anne kept filled on the ice box made Esther grin. She gingerly lifted the pick and readied herself to fracture off a piece of ice. If there was any left.

Then she heard voices coming from the back porch.

Covering her gasp with her hand, and brandishing the pick, she dropped into the corner behind the box. The back door was out of her line of sight. So, hopefully, if they came in, she would be invisible in the dark. Her ears strained for hints of entry, or trouble, or… familiarity.

“You’ve done a good job, kid,” Joe’s voice said, “but it’s time to throw in the towel.”

Another voice made some reply. Esther flinched when it was cut off. The presence of Wardlow’s voice made her flinch again.

“There’s no need for lip. You’ve been very loyal to Omega, a testament to the crew you’re part of. But this is war, kid.”

Joe snorted. “Heroes don’t get to go home.”

Against everything in her spine screaming for her not to move, Esther slowly rose to her feet. Still holding the icepick, she re-positioned herself against the frame of the window. It was dark enough inside that she felt adequately safe to pull back the corner of the heavy drapes that covered every window in the house. She left the lacy sheer drape in place.

The looming figures of Wardlow and Joe made the young man at their feet even smaller. He was on his knees. His curly hair was mussed. And the dark trickle from his nose wasn’t a trick of the shadows, Esther was sure. She bit her lip to hold back a yelp as Joe slapped the man with a large open hand. When the man turned to look up at them, his defiant face was illuminated by the straining moonlight. It was Dante Martin, the boy who had flirted with her on the stairs just hours before.

“Kenny sent you here for a reason. And not to just pass info along.” Despite the cold, the interrogators’ shirt sleeves were rolled back to their elbows. Wardlow kneeled to Dante’s level. “Why were you in my office?”

Esther’s eyes widened. How had he made it in there? The door was almost always locked. Sometimes even when Wardlow was inside.

The kid grinned, his bloody teeth shiny black in the night. “It’s not like that lock’s a hard one. I could have made it to the safe too if your guard dog hadn’t snuck up on me.” He grunted as Joe hit him again. “Hit me all you like. It won’t change a thing. Omega wanted to be sure you weren’t holding nothing back after the Bull Session. Especially since the cards are dealing out faster than before. You would have done the same thing if he had hosted.”

“Only our guy wouldn’t have gotten caught.”

Dante laughed, high and free. “But you won’t trust him with such a job anymore, would you? Spears followed him tonight, didn’t he?”

The boss had run out of patience. He pulled a revolver from his shoulder holster. With a shiver the smile evaporated from the boy’s face. Wardlow slowly loaded each chamber, flicking his gaze between the gun and eye contact with Dante.

“You were looking for something. What was it?”

He hesitated, watching the bullets disappear from Wardlow’s fingers. “Kenny thinks you have another list. Not just the hits and cards. But who is part of the poker game.”

“The what? Oh, yes. The meetings.”

“The Poker Game. That’s what the Jackson brothers call it. To match the name we gave the Dealer. One of our guys got caught snooping. He said the Dealer is a new guy. Weakening the families to make room for what he wants to build. Said every crew has at least one man from each that’s part of the Poker Game. Guys who are unhappy with their current place. Who wanted to be part of new plans. Big plans. Said you had a list.”

Joe crossed his arms.

“Who?”

The gun, full, cocked.

Even through the lace, Esther could see Dante’s face blanche green in the night. His eyes frantically looked between the two men. “A.R. Fox.” When Joe closed his eyes and leaned his head back, Dante rushed out, “nobody has to worry about him anymore. That’s it. I was just following up on what we got from Fox. I swear. Do- do you-” His chest heaved with panic. “Do you have a list?”

Wardlow disengaged the gun and let it hang by his side. “No. Do you think we’d be bothering with you if we did?”

Sagging on his knees, Dante heaved a sigh of relief. “So, we’re all in the dark. Evenly.” He eyed the gun in Wardlow’s hand. “Can I report that back to my boss?”

Joe turned around to face the back door, making Esther shrink further into the shadows behind the curtain. He tilted his head towards Wardlow. But the boss spoke first.

“The kid’s honest, Joe. We promised a flow of information as we each found it. It’s Omega’s fault for sending him out like this. Sending the kid back will be a show of good faith.”

“He still got caught snooping. Omega doesn’t rescue drowned rats. Unless it’s his overseas contact.”

Wardlow nodded. When Dante flinched under his glance, he sighed. “He’s just a boy. It’ll be a good lesson for him.”

Joe lowered his voice. “He knows about Spears’s… errand. Wouldn’t take much of a detective to figure out what all that entails. And I don’t think for one second that he was actually out cold on your office floor while Spears debriefed.”

Esther waited on bated breath as Wardlow thought it over. After a moment, he rolled back his shoulders. Dante straightened up as Joe turned. The gun raised.

“Sorry, kid. This is the way it is.”

She ducked behind the heavy curtains as the shot rang out, but not before seeing Wardlow place the muzzle on Dante’s forehead.

He had shot Dante. The boy who stopped dead in his tracks when he saw her. Joked with Ricky. And… hadn’t he been the one to check the car hatches when she came running back from her apartment? Wardlow had trusted him enough then. But now- Esther didn’t care who he worked for or what he knew. The two seconds she had interacted with him told her he was a good kid. Had been. Now- How could Wardlow-

The conversation continued outside while Esther reeled.

“This is going to be hard to smooth over with Omega.”

Joe grunted. He began to fold over the body’s limbs and prepped to move it to the length of canvas at the bottom of the porch steps. “Yes. But I’d keep a keener eye out for the brother, Darius.”

Bile rose in Esther’s throat. As quietly as she could, she replaced the icepick while the voices continued. The glass of water, room temperature but cool against her flushed skin, was a welcome grounding presence as she fled. Ares barely gave her any attention as she ran out, keeping his focus on the back door.

Just moments later, the door opened. Wardlow and Joe took turns washing their hands in the sink. Joe glanced at the other man.

“What are we going to do about Ricky?”

Wardlow shook his hands, flying droplets into the basin. “What do you think we should do with him? I don’t believe he’s our guy. He’s too close.” Still, he muttered to himself. “But why would he take her to neutral territory? Unless he knew the hit was coming.”

“And Fox was Omega’s best grifter.” Joe breathed out evenly. “He’s been in hot water for a while. I think your ‘job’ is the right move. If he comes back, we know what side he’s on. If not…. Let him eat the consequences.” When Wardlow looked towards the door, Joe rested a hand on his shoulder. “Go get some sleep. I’ll get one of the guys to go with me in the morning and take him back to Omega.”

He shook his head. “Don’t leave without me. Let me give Ricky his job, and then we’ll both go.”

\\***//

Chapter 8: Under the Gun