Grave Phantoms (Roaring Twenties #3)(63)

The two of you attached or looking to play?

He’d wanted to break the man’s nose for that. He’d wanted to drag Astrid out of there, slung over his shoulder, and mark her with his body, like some feral dog. Wanted to take her away from all of this—her family, this city, their restrictions . . . their past.

He was nearing a breaking point. He could finally admit that to himself. His restraint was running on fumes.

His eyes shifted sideways. Astrid was hugging her arms around her middle, trying to stay warm—they’d left so fast, he’d forgotten their coats in the trunk. He quelled his dark thoughts and switched on the heater. “Better?”

“Yes. Did you hear me?” she asked.

“I heard. Think hard about what you’re saying. It’s close to midnight and there are few places we can go together, if you’re asking me to take you out somewhere . . .”

He tried to sound cool and matter-of-fact, but his fingers would snap the steering wheel in two if he gripped it any harder. He kept his eyes on the road, waiting for her answer. Had he made things plain enough for her? Did she understand? Tell me to take you home, he begged silently.

“I don’t want to go out,” she said. “I don’t want to go home. I want to be alone with you.”

A tense breath whooshed from his nostrils. He licked dry lips and swallowed hard. She understood, he had no doubt now. They looked at each other and a silent agreement passed between them. The crouching beast in him stood and roared triumphantly. It was all he could do to keep the car on the road.

“Your apartment?” she asked after a few moments, almost shyly. Almost.

No. The walls were paper-thin and there was the possibility of running into Sylvia. Neither woman deserved that. Where else? They couldn’t go home. Couldn’t go to a hotel, unless she paid for the room and he sneaked up later, and damned if he was doing that. He had his pride, after all.

Where could they be alone?

Was this actually happening, after all these years?

He was driving, but not really seeing. Spinning through thoughts, but not really thinking. His mind was bright with anticipation, teetering precariously. One wrong word, and he feared he’d lose everything at once. But there were practical matters to consider. “I need to stop by a drugstore. If we hurry, there’s one that stays open late in—”

“No, you don’t.”

“Astrid—”

“I have something. I got it in Los Angeles. It’s a little rubber dome. A tiny cap. Jane told me about a doctor near school . . .” Her cheeks flamed—even in the dark car, he could see them color.

“I know what you mean.” He’d never seen one, but he’d heard about things like that. They were illegal to obtain under Comstock laws. He was surprised and impressed by her courage to seek it out. She was fearless, and he loved that.

She smoothed her dress over her lap. “Anyway. I have it in my handbag. Just in case we . . . Well, I was hoping, I guess. This was after Luke—I didn’t . . . Stars! I mean to say that, uh . . . I’ve practiced putting it in, but I haven’t used it,” she said quickly, biting her lip. “And then you wouldn’t answer my letters, and I thought I’d ruined everything, but I kept it, hoping, you know, maybe. Oh God. Why can’t I stop talking?”

He put an arm around her shoulder and pulled her against him, kissing the top of her head and smiling. “I’m happy you were hoping.”

“You are?”

“Hell yes.”

She relaxed and curled up against his side. “Where can we go?”

At that moment, Bo realized a solution to their problem.

He knew where to go.

Ten minutes later, he’d parked the Buick inside the warehouse at the pier and Astrid was doubting his vision. “Here?”

“Not here,” Bo said, helping her into her coat. “Oh ye of little faith. Put on your gloves, too. It’s going to be cold as hell.” He smiled down at her, unable to disguise his eagerness. “But I’ll warm you up when we get there.”

—

Astrid followed Bo onto the pier. The Bay wasn’t as choppy as it had been the first night she came home—the night the yacht crashed. And though water still threatened to spill over the creaky dock boards lining the warehouse, it wasn’t raining.

“Look, Bo,” she said, pointing out over the Bay. “Fog! I’d never thought I’d say this, but I couldn’t be happier to see it.”

“Hm, I might just agree with you on that. Better than stormy water. Come on.”

All their crabbers, rumrunners, and trawlers bobbed in the water, asleep for the night. Bo stopped in front of a long, skinny runabout that looked like the tip of a spear pointing out of the water, sleek and long. The varnished mahogany hull gleamed in the moonlight. He removed a blue tarp near the rear that covered a two-person cockpit fronted by a low windshield.

Excitement bubbled up and mixed with the nervousness that was churning her stomach. “Where are we going?”

“Where no one will find us.” The white of Bo’s teeth showed when he smiled.

“All right,” she said, smiling back. “I’m game. Let’s go.”

Hand on hers, he helped her step inside the cramped seat. It had been nearly a year since she’d been on a boat like this. Her balance faltered, and the runabout rocked. She squealed and awkwardly settled down, slipping her legs under a wooden dash covered in round glass dials.