Moonshine For Three

Moonshine For Three

by

Lauren Gallagher

Copyright Information

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2014 Lauren Gallagher

Second Edition

Previously published as part of the Underground Erotica Anthology.

Cover Art By Lori Witt

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher, and where permitted by law. Reviewers may quote brief passages in a review. To request permission and all other inquiries, contact Lori Witt at
[email protected]

ISBN: 978-0-9913593-7-0

It’s November, 1938. Prohibition is in full swing, and the California coast is lined with offshore casino boats looking to take advantage of the less restrictive international waters.  Among them, the
Miss Fortune
, and that’s where Detective Paul Hansen’s headed tonight.

He needs to find Alice Durham because she’s his only lead on the whereabouts of one Robbie Parker. Paul is hot on Robbie’s trail because the man’s a bootlegger and a moonshiner—and Paul’s former lover.

He’s supposed to be investigating Robbie’s illegal doings, but Paul’s heart has never quite let go of  what they had before, and instead, he wants to warn him that the feds are on to him. Robbie doesn’t trust him—why would a moonshiner trust a cop?—but Alice might be able to convince him to listen.

Assuming the three of them actually do any talking…

This story was previously published as part of the
Underground Erotica
anthology.

Moonshine for Three

By

Lauren Gallagher

November 1938 – Off the coast of Long Beach, California

The night's too damned cold to be out in a boat. Even for this time of year. Wind's been whipping through Long Beach since noon, and the farther this creaking water taxi takes us out to sea, the worse it's getting. The waves are high and white-capped. If my partner Danny gets as seasick as he says, then it's a damn good thing he didn't come along.

Gentleman next to me lost his hat a mile from shore. Says maybe that's a sign he shouldn't be playing the tables tonight—not if Lady Luck ain't on his side. Let's hope she's on mine.

The ship's there up ahead. Doesn't look like much: just an old merchant ship some moonshiner anchored off shore and converted into a floating casino. Been almost a year since this one showed up. There were others back then, and there's loads more now. More gambling here than there is in Monte Carlo, they say.

Boat's rocking hard tonight, and creaking and groaning over the music and voices coming from the upper decks. There are others around, boats like this, some bigger, some smaller, but the
Miss Fortune
is where I'll find Alice Durham.

That's what my partner says, anyhow. Don't know how I'm going to pick her out from the other broads on board, but she ought to be here tonight. Danny said she'd be, and he's got boys on the inside who say they know.

"You can't miss her," he'd insisted when he left me to board the water taxi. "Unless there's another dame who looks like Ginger Rogers on that bucket of rust."

I've seen some pretty girls getting on and off the water taxis, but none like Ginger. Not yet.

The taxi's moored, and one by one, we disembark and walk onboard the
Miss Fortune
. My badge is tucked away. I don't have jurisdiction out here anyhow—not three and a half miles off the California coast. Flashing a badge in these parts is a good way to find out just how cold the ocean really is tonight. Especially down there at the bottom.

I get to the uppermost deck as quick as I can. Up here, cards shuffle, slap, and slide. Chips rattle. The roulette wheel whirs and the ball bounces. Men cheer and curse, and bartenders pour liquor like there's more liquid behind the bars than under the boat.

And there she is.

I give her a good look, just to be sure, but that's Alice, all right. If Danny hadn't told me what to look for, I'd have thought it was Ginger Rogers herself, all wrapped up in red with long, black gloves. That cigarette holder's like an arrow pointing straight to her lips, and now I see why Danny didn't want to come along. Bet he ain't the type to get seasick like he says. He just can't talk to beautiful women.

I'm not so sure I can talk to her neither, but if she can get me to Robert Parker, I better get my tongue untied. Tug at the cuffs, straighten the tie, and I'm on my way to her. Past the tables and the gamblers, right toward the bar where she's sitting.

I slide up next to her and put a hip against the stool and an elbow on the bar. "You Alice Durham?"

She looks right at me with eyes lined with dark kohl, and purses her lips as she blows smoke straight in my face. "Who wants to know?"

"Maybe someone who wants to do some business with a friend of yours."

She taps the cigarette over an ashtray. "Yeah? And what friend is that?"

"I'm looking for Robert Parker."

His name startles her, but just barely. Just enough to make her pause while she's bringing that cigarette up to her mouth. "What makes you think I know him?"

"You saying you don't?"

"Why?" Her eyes narrow. "You gonna arrest me if I'm lyin'?"

"Arrest you?" I laugh. "I ain't a cop, sweetheart."

"Then what do you want?" She sucks the end of the cigarette holder. This time, she turns her head and blows the smoke out of the corner of her mouth.

"I want to have a chat with Robert."

She laughs, that defiant, one-beat laugh of a woman who don't let anyone push her around. "You want to talk to him? You talk me to me first."

"So you can get in touch with him."

She doesn't flinch. "It ain't illegal to talk to a man."

"No, that it ain't. So tell me—"

"You ain't talking to him, are you, doll?" A voice comes from behind me. A familiar one full of gravel and moxie.

Alice looks past me, bright red lips widening into a grin that sends a bolt of jealousy right through me.

"Maybe I am," she says to him.

I turn just as he steps around me, and it ain't the ship trying to throw me off my feet this time. He's still got that smile, that look in his eyes that always went along with his smooth-talking ways and the wheeling and dealing he swore would make him rich one day. The suit's a new one. An expensive one. Dark gray, with a starched white shirt and a navy blue tie. Hay-colored hair's slicked and styled, sculpted like a movie star's, and that cologne on him ain't cheap. Looks like the pauper made himself a prince after all.

He sidles up next to Alice, and the way that arm snakes around her tiny waist makes my teeth grind. He nuzzles her neck and kisses just under her jaw. "What've I told you about these shady types?"

"He ain't any worse than you." She pats his hand. "And I can take care of myself, Robbie. Besides, he came up to me looking for you." She gestures at me with her cigarette holder before tapping it in the ashtray beside her drink. "Says he wants to talk business."

Robert laughs. "Business, eh?"

"That's what he says."

I start to speak, but he cuts me off: "He ain't nothing but trouble." Sliding his hand up her waist toward her breast, Robert doesn't look away from me, not even when he kisses her long, slender neck. "Trust me, darling."

Then he plants a kiss beneath her jaw, closing his eyes and furrowing his brow like her flesh against his lips is holding his concentration for a moment. Jealousy floods my veins, and damn if I know if I'm jealous of his mouth or her skin.

Alice bites her lip, shivering inside Robert's embrace. "You know this guy?"

"We've got a history." His gaze flicks up and meet mine, and I swear I can feel the scrape of his chin and the brush of his lips as he grins against her neck. "Haven't we, Paul?"

"Paul?" Alice's thin eyebrows arch, and she straightens. "This ain't
the
Paul, is he?"

Without lifting away from her neck, Robert murmurs, "Why don't you ask him?"

She doesn't speak. Just looks at me and brings that cigarette holder back up to her lips. The lift of her eyebrows asks the question.

I clear my throat. "I came here because I need to talk to you. Both of you." I pause. "Privately."

"What a coincidence." Robert's tone is suddenly serious, as is his expression. He gently releases Alice and stands straight, tugging at his sleeves as he looks at me with steely eyes. "Because I was just about to suggest we take this behind some closed doors."

Alice glances at him, but says nothing.

"Darling." Robert kisses her rouged-up cheek. "Be a dear and get us all something to drink. A bottle of the good stuff and three glasses." He again narrows his eyes at me. "We'll meet you below decks."

"Of course." She gives him a kiss, and then flutters off while Robert and I stare each other down.

"This way."

I follow Robert across the gambling area and onto one of the outer decks.

"To the right." He throws a sharp nod toward the stern. "Quick now."

My cop's instinct tells me to stop right here and not go another step, but that's as likely as anything to cause a scuffle. No need to draw attention to the two of us. I can handle Robert one-on-one. Sure wouldn't be the first time.

So I start walking.

We're not ten feet from the door when he orders me to halt. I do, and he doesn't even let me turn around before he presses something into the middle of my back.

"Enough games." The creak of a revolver sends a chill through me. Robert growls, "There's a lot of people aboard this ship. A lot of witnesses and potential victims."

"Victims?" I look over my shoulder, but can't see him. "You plannin' on blowin' the place?"

"Are you?"

"Robert, for God's sake, you—"

"I know what you are now, you son of a bitch," he snarls in my ear.

My blood's cold as the salt spray hitting my face. "What are you—"

"Who else you got on my boat?" he demands. "None of you boys work alone."

I gulp. "I'm here alone. I'm not—"

"Don't lie to me." He lowers his voice, hissing in my ear, and I know that dangerous tone from a hundred paces. "Or should I say, Detective Hansen?"

My heart's going fast now. Real fast.

"Robert, I'm—"

"You're a cop." He jabs the gun into my back. "Admit it, or I'll let everyone on this deck know what you are so they can tear you apart until they find your badge."

I exhale. "All right, all right, I'm a cop. But I swear, I'm here alone." I face forward again. "My partner can't be on the water. Gets seasick in his own bathtub. So I came alone."

"Seasick?" The huff of sarcastic laughter makes me an awful lot less comfortable with that gun against my back. "You think I'm stupid, Paul?"

"I'm here alone. If there's another cop on this boat, he ain't with me."

"Then why are you here?" Before I can speak, he jabs the weapon into me again. "You've got five seconds, Paul. Tell me why you're here and why I shouldn't toss you overboard with an armload of cinder blocks."

"Robert." Alice's voice is quiet, barely louder than the waves smacking the hull down below. "The taxis are comin' in, and we're out in the open. We ought to do this someplace no one can see."

Robert releases his breath. Then he shoves me with the muzzle of the pistol. "Walk. First ladder on the left."

Getting down the ladder ain't easy with the boat rocking this way, and it doesn't help knowing there's probably a gun still aimed at my head. If the damn boat rocks just right and I stumble, I better hope Robert doesn't have the itchy trigger finger he had back then.

By the grace of God, my feet stay under me, and I wait while Robert comes down behind me. He stops to help Alice, and when both of her high-heeled shoes are on the deck, he directs me down the passageway.

Two suited men the size of gorillas are coming the other way.

"What's this all about, boss?" one asks.

The other gestures at me with a huge hand. "You need help with him?"

"I can handle him," Robert says. "Just don't let anyone down on this deck until I give the say-so. This is a private matter."

"Right, boss," they both say, and squeeze past us.

We continue through the narrow passageway. Then Alice opens a hatch, and I go in ahead of them.

The room's small. A storage room of sorts. Bunch of shelves with rags and buckets. An old chair next to some stacked boxes. And no way out except the way I came in.

This ain't good. I definitely shouldn't have come alone, and no way I should've let him bring me down here. But Robert hadn't left me a lot of choice. I couldn't make a scene above decks. I just hope this Robert still has some of the Robert I knew six years ago left in him, or I'm a dead man.

"We need some glasses," Alice says. "I'll be right back."

She leaves, and Robert orders me, "Get your jacket off."

I unbutton my jacket and take it off. Shame to put a coat that fine on a dirty shelf full of rags, but it's all that's handy, so it'll have to do.

"Holster, too," Robert says. "Whole thing, not just the gun."

I grit my teeth. "Robbie, enough with the games. I came here to—"

"Take off. The fucking. Holster."

I'm short on patience tonight, but that thirty-eight in his hand is awfully convincing, so I do like he says. I slip the holster off my shoulders and hand it to him. He sets it on the floor behind his feet.

"Hands behind your head." He gestures with the gun. "And turn around."

As I lace my fingers together behind my head, I say, "Robbie, are we—"

"Turn around," he snaps.

I do as I'm told.

"Now what do the cops want with me?" he asks. "Why you on my boat, Paul?"

"I got a tip that you were involved in the gambling ships," I say. "And that you're running booze up the coast."

"Yeah? Who isn't?"

"The feds are on to you, Robbie. They know you're making a killing, and they want to shut you down." I look over my shoulder as much as I can. "Whatever it takes."

"So where do you come in?" he snarls. "You here to bring me back in? Collect a bounty on my head, old friend?"

"I'm not here to do anything except see if it's true you're the one involved."

"Well, here I am," he says. "Now what? You gonna send the cavalry in?"