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Authors: Shawna Moore
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the car. A baseball sailed through the air and nearly conked him in the head. Reilly cursed his luck.
“Stupid idiots!” He shook his fist at two Italian boys who scampered after their wayward toy.
Moira’s face remained calm. She could become a good poker player. Always kept him guessing. He groaned and walked her to her front door. No woman ever held his interest this long without him screwing her until she couldn’t see straight.
She tapped his arm. “Too bad you ducked. They might have knocked some sense into you. You and those hot hands.”
Moira laughed and climbed the steps in front of the store. Reilly examined the building. A home to her, but just another real estate holding to Uncle Morgan.
“I might be taking you to another home soon. Isn’t that what you said?”
She screwed her face into a silly expression. “Oh, that. Janet and I might get a place someday. I don’t know yet.”
“Aren’t you forgetting something?” Reilly prodded.
She gasped and pointed to the front seat of the Playboy. “Yes. How can I ever thank you enough?”
“I’m sure you’ll think of some way.” Another day, sweet Moira. Another day you can give me a bit of honest lovin’. He climbed behind the wheel and retrieved her present. She accepted it with a smile.
Reilly climbed back inside the Playboy. He turned and regarded the first floor of the greengrocery. Inside the front window, a frail-appearing woman darted from his view. Such a respectable family. Not a spot of dirt anywhere on the sparkling window glass. The Monaghans were as clean as they came, but Moira’s mind held dirtier thoughts than she’d ever admit.
Reilly reached under his seat and extracted the whiskey flask stashed there. He unscrewed the cap and raised the steel container to his lips. One swallow of the bourbon brought him to his senses. He replaced the flask. No time for drunkenness. He needed to stay sober and concentrate on getting himself out from under his uncle’s influenc e- and getting Moira off Sullivan Street. Difficult though that might be, he’d manage.
He’d make sure Moira was right beside him afterward.
Chapter 6
“Moira? That you?” At the sound of her mother’s voice, Moira spun around. “Who’s that young man in the fancy rig?”
“A friend. Reilly Dunne. I met him the other night while working Janet’s shift at the club.”
Nola Monaghan arranged several dry-goods items on a shelf not far from where Moira stood. Her hands toiled but her mind no doubt conjured more questions for her youngest child. Even though she didn’t look at her daughter’s face, or the package Moira carried, the wise woman would no doubt continue to seek information about Reilly’s background.
“Where’s he live? You aren’t getting in with any of them liquor-lovin’ louts from down on McDougal are you?”
“No. He lives...” She had no idea where Reilly lived. Obviously not on the Lower East Side. Not from the way he dressed and the automobile he drove.
“You don’t know, do you, girl? Don’t tell me you’ve gone off and gotten yourself in with a gangster? If he isn’t a God-fearing man, then the Devil does his work inside such a body.”
Instead of lying, Moira clammed up and called out to her father as he emerged from the back room. “Hallo, Papa. Any apples today?”
“Plenty of beauties for my beauty. Come, have a look.” A smile as broad as all of Brooklyn appeared on his face. Such a special bond she shared with her father.
She placed her package on the steps and ran over to greet him properly. His plump whiskered cheek warmed her cold lips. Moira picked a shiny red fruit from the box beside him and polished it on her sleeve.
Don’t let him dwell on the package . “We’ll have a special surprise for your supper tonight,” she promised and vanished before he got the truth from her.
“You don’t say,” he called after her. “Care to give me a hint?”
A mischievous man but still a saint in Moira’s
“Stupid idiots!” He shook his fist at two Italian boys who scampered after their wayward toy.
Moira’s face remained calm. She could become a good poker player. Always kept him guessing. He groaned and walked her to her front door. No woman ever held his interest this long without him screwing her until she couldn’t see straight.
She tapped his arm. “Too bad you ducked. They might have knocked some sense into you. You and those hot hands.”
Moira laughed and climbed the steps in front of the store. Reilly examined the building. A home to her, but just another real estate holding to Uncle Morgan.
“I might be taking you to another home soon. Isn’t that what you said?”
She screwed her face into a silly expression. “Oh, that. Janet and I might get a place someday. I don’t know yet.”
“Aren’t you forgetting something?” Reilly prodded.
She gasped and pointed to the front seat of the Playboy. “Yes. How can I ever thank you enough?”
“I’m sure you’ll think of some way.” Another day, sweet Moira. Another day you can give me a bit of honest lovin’. He climbed behind the wheel and retrieved her present. She accepted it with a smile.
Reilly climbed back inside the Playboy. He turned and regarded the first floor of the greengrocery. Inside the front window, a frail-appearing woman darted from his view. Such a respectable family. Not a spot of dirt anywhere on the sparkling window glass. The Monaghans were as clean as they came, but Moira’s mind held dirtier thoughts than she’d ever admit.
Reilly reached under his seat and extracted the whiskey flask stashed there. He unscrewed the cap and raised the steel container to his lips. One swallow of the bourbon brought him to his senses. He replaced the flask. No time for drunkenness. He needed to stay sober and concentrate on getting himself out from under his uncle’s influenc e- and getting Moira off Sullivan Street. Difficult though that might be, he’d manage.
He’d make sure Moira was right beside him afterward.
Chapter 6
“Moira? That you?” At the sound of her mother’s voice, Moira spun around. “Who’s that young man in the fancy rig?”
“A friend. Reilly Dunne. I met him the other night while working Janet’s shift at the club.”
Nola Monaghan arranged several dry-goods items on a shelf not far from where Moira stood. Her hands toiled but her mind no doubt conjured more questions for her youngest child. Even though she didn’t look at her daughter’s face, or the package Moira carried, the wise woman would no doubt continue to seek information about Reilly’s background.
“Where’s he live? You aren’t getting in with any of them liquor-lovin’ louts from down on McDougal are you?”
“No. He lives...” She had no idea where Reilly lived. Obviously not on the Lower East Side. Not from the way he dressed and the automobile he drove.
“You don’t know, do you, girl? Don’t tell me you’ve gone off and gotten yourself in with a gangster? If he isn’t a God-fearing man, then the Devil does his work inside such a body.”
Instead of lying, Moira clammed up and called out to her father as he emerged from the back room. “Hallo, Papa. Any apples today?”
“Plenty of beauties for my beauty. Come, have a look.” A smile as broad as all of Brooklyn appeared on his face. Such a special bond she shared with her father.
She placed her package on the steps and ran over to greet him properly. His plump whiskered cheek warmed her cold lips. Moira picked a shiny red fruit from the box beside him and polished it on her sleeve.
Don’t let him dwell on the package . “We’ll have a special surprise for your supper tonight,” she promised and vanished before he got the truth from her.
“You don’t say,” he called after her. “Care to give me a hint?”
A mischievous man but still a saint in Moira’s
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