Harmony Page 11

  “Thing is…” he began, “black or white I wanted to see you. And it’s not all about business Doll.”

  Harmony moved away from his reaching fingers before they found her most intimate spot. Romano stood. He wore his undershirt and his suspenders were down around the waist of his trousers. “

  “So what’s your plan Vinnie?” she asked, trying to put more space between them by returning to the sink and rinsing the blood from the cloth rag. “You think keeping me here is going to bring Willie out of hiding? He won’t know where to find me. And if’n he do he won’t be smart enough to help you. He’s young and foolish, dumb enough to think he could get away with stealing from you I suppose. He’ll be dumb enough to think he can rescue me on his own. And what then? I’ll tell you what.” She shot him a pointed look over her shoulder. “Those men with you will put a bullet in him. That’s what.”

  “Maybe. Not if you’re smart and we do things my way. You trust me Songbird and I will spare your brother. You have my word.”

  “Like I had your word you’d help me if we laid together? You mean that word?” She sassed, wringing out the rag she then laid it flat on the edge of the sink. She turned and he was just a breath away. Dammit why did he come so close?

  The corner of Romano’s mouth kicked up. If she were honest the fluttering in her stomach wasn’t nerves, it was something far more primal. The man had an irresistible appeal when his focus was solely on her. But she couldn’t trust that feeling or him.

  “I’m cold.” She announced. He paused and gave her a curious look.

  Harmony laughed softly. She turned and pointed to the dying fire in the brick hearth. “We need more kindling for the fire. Can you get some?”

  Romano’s gaze finally switched to the fireplace. He nodded and left. Harmony could breathe again. She slumped down on the sofa and exhaled deep breaths. A five-minute reprieve wasn’t a lot of time but it was enough for her to check herself. Think, think, think, what you gone do now?

  She heard him enter and glanced over to see his arms loaded with logs. Now she could observe him without the heat of his brown eyes spearing her. The bruising on his arm centered around a thin scratch. A pang of regret pierced her heart. He cast his gaze to her. “Are you hungry? I don’t think there’s food here but I can go up to the house and get some.”

  If he returned to his brother and those other hoods his mood could sour. “No. I’m not hungry.”

  The pointed end of the iron rod poked the fire and got the red-hot ambers twinkling upward in a cloud of black smoke. She cleared her throat. “You know, if you really want me to find him you should let me go. I had a clue, a real one. In fact I was going to…” The truth had no limits on her tongue and she quickly silenced herself remembering she told him only minutes ago she didn’t know where Willie was.

  “Finish.” Romano said. He straightened in front of the fireplace and approached her. “You were saying?”

  “I was going to go to East Harlem, to some of his old friends and start there. He has to be hiding around those boys he was often with. They won’t talk to no white man. But they’d talk to me.”

  When he sat next to her she tried to scoot discreetly over. But the small sofa made the fit a bit snug. And with him so close she could see him clearly. The changing light from the fire patterned his face. She, however, could not deny the firepower in his stare. “You don’t trust me.” He stated.

  “Can you blame me?” she half-chuckled.

  Humor twitched his lips. “That’s the weird thing about you Songbird. I can never blame you.” He touched the side of her face with the back of his hand. She lowered her gaze against the feel of the light brush. “You’re beautiful.”

  “I must be a sight,” she answered. And she knew it was true. Her hair had come out of the bobby pins and was frizzing at the roots. The dress she wore had been torn along the splits and tied in knots at the hem. She had her street clothes in her cloth bag but in her nervousness she forgot to change into them.

  His reply was hushed, “If you want your brother to live then you have to trust your instincts, the same instincts that brought you to my bed.”

  “What if I do,” she said softly maintaining his stare. “If I trust you, believe in you, what then? You gonna make me your girl?” she teased.

  Good Lord did I just say that?

  He lowered her sleeve, and brushed his lips against her bare shoulder. The soft pair trailed up her neck with the gentlest of kisses. Instinctively she put her hands against the solid wall of his chest to push back. His mouth brushed upward and stopped at the inside curve of her ear. “Yes. Give me what I want and I’ll set your brother free… after.”

  As independent as she had been after Lewis’s death, there had been many times when she craved abandonment. If she kept her heart out of this and remained focused she could probably get her and Willie out of Harlem for good. She just needed to ignore the soft flutters of her heart that competed with the heat between her legs when he was this close. After all it was nothing more than lust. For Romano she represented the forbidden—possibly. He probably loved living his life on the edge, taking the hard road in every thing he did. Keeping time with a colored woman definitely would be off the beaten path for any of the men he associated with. She’d seen the way he watched her at The Cotton and even now he panted like a schoolboy when she allowed him to touch her. His obsession could prove to be dangerous to toy with. What choice did she have?

  He reached behind her, with his cheek pressed to hers. She felt his warm breath escape his nostrils and cover her ear as he lowered the zipper to her dress. “Lie back. I want to be inside of you—again,” he said in a gruff commanding voice. She did as he asked putting the middle of her back to the side of the sofa. The man was all hands. Her leg was lifted and she heard her dress rip a bit more along her right thigh as she obediently dropped it over the back of the sofa. Harmony was so grateful for the darkness. Here she was holding to the front of her dress to cover her bosom with her legs spread to high heaven.

  Romano shifted on his one knee. The scrape of his zipper sounded. He grabbed at her panty until the nylon tore from her hip and came away in tatters. Her thighs felt warm and clammy in her garter stockings and she wished she could remove them. Her body was burning with feverish excitement. But Romano wouldn’t be denied. With his stare locked in on hers the blunt head of his cock stabbed at her center then plunged inside. His free hand lifted and gripped the side arm of the sofa and the other held to her hip. He braced her for the short hard strokes he delivered.

  It felt uncomfortable at first and a bit awkward. But his thrusting was steady, measured, drilling for her liquid lust. She dropped her head back allowing herself to enjoy it as he ran his tongue over her throat and nipped her chin.

  A quick pounding at the door startled her and she tensed, pushing hard at his shoulders. Romano kept going driving himself deeper into her being, working his hips in a circular motion forcing her toes to curl. Did she hear knocking, or was that her heart beating in her ears? It came again more insistent.

  “Vinnie, wait, someone’s here.” She grabbed his hips to still him. Halting his rhythm made the insides of her thighs quiver. But she feared someone peeking in the windows and seeing her spread on the sofa with him piling into her more than she craved their shared lust. He looked up dazed and confused, then he heard the knocking too. His head swung left and he peered at the door. The knocking persisted.

  “Fuck!” he grunted.

  Romano’s cock slipped slowly from inside of her. He rose and ran up the zipper to his trousers as she lowered her leg from the back of the sofa and gathered her torn panty from between them. She could barely get the front of her dress up when he threw open the door and glared down his visitor. Then he walked out of it with a slam.

  Harmony tried to gather her senses. Her breathing was so fast and strong she almost felt as if he was still inside of her. She went to the oil lantern near the fireplace and with her breasts freed and the dr
ess gathered around her waist she plucked a long matchstick, ignited it in the open flames of the fire, and lit the lantern. She glanced around for her next move. The bedroom door was the first she tried when she arrived but it was so dark inside she abandoned it as an option, and decided to remain to the front of the cottage to get a jump on anyone arriving. Maybe it would be a great escape from him if she went inside and locked it. She carried the lantern in front of her to keep the light steady and went inside. With the door firmly closed she found no lock to keep herself safe. She sighed and turned with the lantern. Her breath caught in her throat. She lifted the yellow flames in the glass casing and cast the light everywhere. And her eyes stretched in shock at what was unveiled. “Sweet Jesus. What is this?”

  Six

  Things Remembered…

  “This better be good!” Romano hissed. He paced. His dick remained semi hard behind his zipper and his arms, chest, legs all felt uncompromisingly tight. She was making him crazy! His Songbird had tried to slice his throat. Nothing he said or promised quelled her resistance, unless he was worshipping her body. And the more she fought him the more he craved her.

  “Sorry boss.” Leftie answered in a voice void of remorse. His friend hadn’t said it but he noticed the way he sneered whenever he was distracted by Harmony. If Leftie had objections to his desires for a colored woman he was smart enough not to say it to his face. However, Romano gave him an order, and Leftie always walked a straight line of obedience with him. Apparently he didn’t consider this one worthy of the same respect. That too incensed Romano.

  “Well? What the fuck is it?”

  “The boys have about four of Collins’s men, questioning them in the barn.” Leftie said.

  Romano glanced toward the red and brown barn isolated to the east of his property in a field of three-foot tall grass. The full moon above cast silvery blue light over the roof and surrounding trees. “That was quick.” He frowned.

  “I saw them coming up the highway and turned around to follow. The boys have a couple of saws, nails and hammers to use on our friends. After we’re done, what do you want us to do with the bodies?” Leftie flicked his cigarette and exhaled a long stream of smoke.

  Romano itched in his throat for his tobacco and smoking pipe. It would calm him. Behind him he heard a door slam inside the cottage. He glanced back over his shoulder and imagined she’d found the bedroom. Shit, I forgot about the bedroom. He burned in his gut to return to her and explain away what she would find. “The boy? What about him?”

  Leftie frowned. “I don’t know… we haven’t…”

  “Make it a priority. I want him alive.” Romano’s voice boomed over Leftie’s half-ass explanation. “Put Antonio on it. He knows Harlem. Make sure he understands I won’t tolerate failure on this.” Romano could see Harmony’s reaction if he granted her wish and delivered her brother. The idea of her being grateful to him made him soften a bit.

  “Got it, and Collins’s men?” Leftie pressed with a hint of irritation in his voice.

  “Get what you can out of them. Drop what’s left on Mickey’s door.” Leftie backed down the steps and turned away. “And Leftie?”

  “Yes Boss.”

  “Don’t fucking interrupt me again, unless you got Mickey Collins’s head as my trophy.”

  Leftie tipped his hat and sauntered off. Romano wiped his hand down his face. He watched Leftie drive out through the grass toward the old barn and nearly decided to join. The violence he’d done and witnessed since he was a boy was the blame. Annie warned that soon it would consume him. Still he could no more deny that part of him than he could deny an arm or a leg. Without his detached temperament he’d never have survived the mean streets of Bronx and the turf wars.

  Turning he went back inside. She was gone. The fireplace blazed so hot it boiled the air around him. He needed a release. He needed her. Romano opened the door to his room. She looked up at him, her eyes bright with curiosity. It was to be expected. After all he’d brought her here with little thought to the room he kept for himself. She had to wonder why.

  “I thought this was a servant’s quarters. What is this place to you?” she asked rising from the bed. The room was plainly furnished, and windowless. A person would find it quite ordinary if it weren’t for the wood carvings of people, sculptures that were exquisite in detail.

  “Vinnie?” Harmony spoke. She pointed to the shelf. “Did you do these?”

  “No. Yes. I did.”

  “Oh,” she said softly. “They’re beautiful. I’m surprised.”

  “Why? You don’t think I’m capable of creating beauty?”

  “No. It’s just. I guess you’re such a tough guy I didn’t think… Look at the detail. These, look so real. Like people.”

  “Let’s go Doll. This room is off limits.” He said, loosing his nerve to reveal more.

  “Wait.” She pleaded. He returned his gaze to her and found her smiling. It was the first genuine smile she’d given him since he captured her. Yes she laughed with him and he suspected at him, but she never smiled at him like this.

  “I want to know about the people you sculpted. Why do you create them?”

  “What do you mean why?” He tossed back at her. He didn’t mean to sound harsh. The pressure in his chest and head had him by the balls. He didn’t discuss his carvings or the compulsive desire to make one of every person who has come and gone from his life. Ever.

  “C’mon Vinnie. Start with her. This little girl.” She picked up the bust of a child’s head carved in detail down to the curly locks that framed her face. Harmony held her gingerly in her hands. “Who is she?”

  He released a deep sigh and closed the door once more. “My cousin.”

  Harmony. “How old is she, four, or five?”

  “She died of consumption in Lercara Friddi when she was three.”

  “Where is Lercara Friddi,” she pressed.

  “Sicily. A very long way from here. When I came to America I lived on the streets, until I met Annie and her brother Teek. She had her mother take me in,” he began, “I kicked around until I formed my own… family.” His gaze lifted to meet hers to see if she fully understood what family meant to him. She didn’t.

  “Your gang?” she said.

  Romano blinked. She did understand. Harmony nodded for him to continue.

  “I made money, enough to send for Antonio. When he came I bought a place in the Bronx, and this place. The main house is where the boys hold up, but this cottage is mine. No one comes here.”

  “I’m here,” she said.

  “Yes you are.”

  Harmony picked up the iron ring at the top of the lantern and lifted the encased flames causing shadows to dance over the faces of the sculptures. The light bounced off the wall to a painting. “Did you do this too?” she asked.

  He nodded.

  She raised the lantern before the single painting in the room. He’d done it after Annie left him. He couldn’t sculpt her image, it would hurt too bad to look upon her face and know she’d never return. The same with her brother Teek, Antonio’s best friend and a kid Romano considered as close as a brother. Instead he put down his carving tools and painted instead. This one was filled with cliffs and fields of red flowers. The painting was indeed his favorite. He would carry Antonio on his shoulders through the olive patches to the open fields for him to play when he was a tot. Romano would get a kick out of how his brother’s chubby legs pumped as he ran and chased butterflies before tiring out.

  “I’ve never seen any place this beautiful. Sicily must be a slice of heaven.” Harmony said her voice low and soothing. The anxiety drained from his limbs. Instead of focusing on how vulnerable he felt he focused on what Annie’s love inspired in him.

  “Sicily can be paradise for some. Not my family.”

  “Really? Why? Who is your family?”

  Romano walked over to her. He took the lantern from her hand and captured it with his free one. He led her over to the only sculpture in the room tha
t filled him with dread. A large bust carved from a block of wood. It stood a foot tall from neck to head. She gazed upon it curiously. Before her was almost exact likeness of Don Giuseppe Romano.

  “This man is the family. My Papa.”

  “He looks… mean,” Harmony said. “Did you mean to carve him with such an angry face?”

  Laughter exploded from Romano and Harmony smiled. He was grateful for the levity. But it only lasted a moment, and faded altogether when his gaze fell upon his father’s image. He felt her hand slip from his. Had he dropped it? He wasn’t aware. Instead he stood transfixed by the hard glare of his father, remembering life as his son until he could stand no more. Don Giuseppe looked like a Neanderthal. He was a big stubble-bearded man with black malevolent eyes. His mother’s bust was next to him. She wore a sad smile, like the one on her face for most of her short life. He’d taken time with her bust. Even painted her carved long locks black, which he’d had, fall about her face in thick waves. He believed she was no more than thirteen when her family gave her to the Don, and fourteen when she gave birth to him.