Read Online Saints and Sinners by Shawna Moore - Free Book Online

anything they sell.”
    Moira’s tiny feet, clad in fashionable flappes, skipped across the floor of Epstein’s. Her curiosity was contagious.
    Arm in arm, they left the soda shop and headed into the sunshine. A sudden breeze whipped past and caused the edges of her coat to flap open. Reilly groaned at seeing the simple clothes she wore. Quite fitting for a day at Bainbridge’s, but she couldn’t wear something that conservative to the Meridian.
    When they reached his Playboy, he pulled a large box from the front seat. He placed it into her outstretched arms. Opening the lid, he lifted the evening dress for her examination.
    “Ooooh,” she moaned, her mouth forming a perfect oval.
    His cock surged at the sight.
    “What things your lips do to me, Moira. Hop in and I’ll take you home. Can’t have you coming down with the grippe.”
    If anyone ever possessed an hourglass figure, Moira Monaghan did. His tongue tingled as he imagined tracing it along the nip of her waist and across the slight swell of her belly.
    He helped her into the car and soon took his place behind the wheel. As she hiked the hemline of the straight skirt upward, he whistled when her smooth stocking-clad knees came into view.
    “Can I ask you something, Reilly?”
    “Sure. Anything your heart desires.”
    “Are you...I mean is your uncle...”
    “Are we what?”
    How her lips twitched. Why was she afraid to speak? Unsure of whether her words would upset him. Moira stared at the dashboard. A smooth section of her bobbed red hair fanned over the side of her face, hiding her expression. This swell doll couldn’t conceal her emotions.
    Only once he pulled from his parking place at the curb and started down the street did he probe for her thoughts. ”Gangsters? Some of dad’s clan were Plug Uglies. A cousin joined the Junior League. Papa always stayed uptown and clean.”
    God Almighty, he hated that term. Plug Uglies. True, a couple generations ago, some Irishmen fell into that lot early in their life. Uncle Morgan was more a dishonest businessman than anything. He ran a couple whorehouses and several speakeasies. Quite a different sort than Moira’s father.
    “No. My uncle...I won’t lie to you. He’s involved in the sale of illegal liquor. That much you know from being at the speakeasy.” Didn’t she know her father’s greengrocery was owned and protected by Morgan Dunne? Every week, Reamonn Monaghan made payments to the “fund” his uncle controlled.
    Her scowl softened. “That’s bad, but not the worst thing in life. Not a saint, but not the worst sinner, either.”
    “No, but while your father sells groceries, my uncle also profits from the sale of flesh.”
    Her eyes squinted. “The sale of flesh? Women?”
    “Yes, whores. He has several brothels.”
    “I see,” she mumbled. “Don’t forget to turn left at the next intersection.”
    Reilly heaved a sigh. Good. She didn’t want to discuss the sordid business anymore than he did. He careened around the corner. Before she sought further enlightenment as to his uncle’s affairs, he brought the Jordan Playboy to an abrupt halt in front of 334 Sullivan Street.
    “Someday you’ll get off this street.” With his help. “Too filthy for a fine woman like you.”
    Women liked to be treated with respect. Moira was no exception. Before she could emerge, he sprinted to her side and offered his assistance.
    “Your hands are warm,” she said and smiled. “You never wear gloves.”
    “Don’t need ’em.”
    Reilly surveyed their surroundings. Good. No one around. Eager to touch Moira, he swatted her swell ass. Firm and shapely underneath the heavy woolen coat she wore. He hugged her close, her waist so narrow his hands spanned it easily. When he traced a trail along the cleft of her bottom, she laughed.
    “How would you like it if I did that to you?” She brought her hand against his backside with a resounding smack.
    His balls bounced at her playfulness. He chased her around