My heart hammered against my ribcage. “Okay?”
“We have an informant who claims the accident was a paid hit.”
The blood whooshing behind my ears made it difficult to hear the rest of what he had to say, but I caught enough of it to understand Papa Joe was right. My sister was murdered.
Leaning in, Gabe put his face in my line of vision. “Breathe, sweetheart.”
I blew out a sigh. “I’m okay. I mean…I think I’ve always known. When will you make an arrest?”
Wayne glanced at Gabe, likely for back up.
“These things take time. For now, know that you and the kids are safe, and we will make the guy pay.”
The darkness in his expression sent a shiver down my spine. “I believe you.”
The detective stood. “Maggie, are you planning to go back to work? We miss you at the bar.”
“No more bar work for her.” Gabe gave my shoulder a little shake.
I started to argue but bit my tongue. I had plenty of other things to keep me busy. Besides, being on my feet for hours on end while pregnant would suck.
The detective rubbed his jaw. “Out of curiosity, how did you get out of the cuffs?”
“I practiced on a cheap pair as research for my latest novel. You’d be surprised what you can learn on the internet.”
Wayne chuckled. “You should finish the series. The first books are fantastic.”
“That’s the plan. After my ordeal, I’m full of ideas.”
“Can’t wait to read them.” He pantomimed taking off a hat. “Now that the professional part of the visit is over, can I give you a hug?”
To my surprise, Gabe moved over so I could stand.
The detective wrapped me in his enormous arms and whispered, “I’m glad you’re okay.”
“Me, too.”
Gabe walked with Wayne to the door.
I glanced around the room and realized he’d been right when he’d said we’d need a larger house. Part of me hated to give up another piece of Rebecca, but we all deserved a fresh start.
Gabe sat beside me. “Are you all right?”
“Yes and no. I’m glad they are looking into Joe and Rebecca’s deaths, but I’m not looking forward to opening old wounds.”
“Maybe getting justice for them will help everyone heal.”
“Maybe.” I couldn’t shake the feeling he knew more than he’d let on. “This has to do with the mafia, doesn’t it?”
He closed his eyes and drew a deep breath. “Yes.”
Hearing him admit it out loud scared the ever-loving hell out of me. “You’re getting out, right?”
“Yes. I told my father and brothers the day I picked you up from the hospital. It may take longer than I like, but we will go legit as soon and as safely as possible.”
“And you’ll tell me what you can about the process?”
He took my hand and pressed my palm over his heart. “I’ll tell you as much as I can. I swear it on our unborn baby’s life.”
“I trust you.” I hated to bring up yet another serious topic, but it’d been bothering me for weeks. “Do you think Chantal got pregnant on purpose?”
“Did I forget to mention it when I told you about my conversation with her at the gala?”
I narrowed my eyes. “I’m pretty sure you did.”
“She admitted it. As a matter of fact, I believe she’s responsible for the bun in your oven, too.”
My blood turned to ice. “What?”
He rested his head in his hand and ran his fingers over his forehead. “The rubber I had in my wallet came from a box she left at my place. I had Leo check. They all had holes in them.”
My nose wrinkled. He had sex with me with another woman’s condom? “That’s just wrong.”
He ignored my comment. “She was desperate to get the money my father stole from her.”
“That’s awful.” I pressed my hand to my belly. Despite my feelings for her, I had Chantal to thank for two of the five children in my life.
“Speaking of which, it seems she was right about one thing. My father did swindle her out of half a million dollars. I’m setting things right. It won’t bring her husband back, but it’s the right thing to do.”
That he wanted to do that for Chantal after everything she’d done gave me hope he’d stay true to his promise to break free of the mafia. I curled closer. “What are we going to tell Ella about her mother?”
“Eventually, we’ll tell her the truth, but that’s not something we need to worry about anytime soon.” Gabe kissed the top of my head. “Are you sure you’re up for wedding planning today?”
“I don’t think your mom will let us wiggle out of it.”
He flashed me a grin that was one part let’s rebel and one part I have an idea. “Let’s get married in the same church as my parents in Sicily. A small family only event.”
“I love it, as long as Shanna, Dahlia, and Wayne are considered family.”
Gabe groaned. “I’m never going to get rid of the detective, am I?”
“Not a chance. You do realize Jessie has a thing for him, right?”
“Yeah, she made that quite clear.” He shuddered. “I’ll call and tell both mothers we’re canceling the wedding planner.”
“Oh yeah, that’s going to go over well.” I was glad he’d volunteered for the task. I’d rather go downtown and give my statement about the kidnapping than face Nadine and Evelyn.
“You know they’re arguing over which neighborhood we should live in.”
“How about Florida? I hear the Keys are nice.” I laughed. After everything we’d gone through, it felt good to think of the future.
“They’d follow us. I say we look for something near Loyola. You’ll be close to campus next fall.”
“I have to plan a wedding and give birth before I can think about applying to school. Plus, I may not get in.”
“You’ll get in.”
I smiled, loving that his belief in me gave me more confidence in myself. I would get into the Master of Fine Arts program, write best-selling novels, raise five kids, and have an awesome marriage. I could do it all, especially with a man who loved and encouraged me every step of the way.
A car door slammed, and Evelyn Marchionni walked past our front windows.
“Crap, we waited too long to cancel.” I had a moment of total panic. We weren’t exactly dressed for company.
Evidently, Gabe didn’t give a crap. He opened the door and gave the woman a shit-eating grin. “Good morning.”
“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, this is how you open the door?” Evelyn handed Ella to him and made a beeline for me. “How are you, dear?”
“I’m okay. A little sore.” I forced a smile.
She sat and patted my still flat tummy. “You take care of yourself and my grandson.”
“I’m staying off my feet and reducing stress.” I nodded toward her son. “We’ve decided to get married in Sicily.”
She gasped and pressed her hands to her chest. “In the church I married my Joe! We can have the reception at the family villa. It will be beautiful. I’ll go and—”
Gabe raised a brow.
Evelyn glanced between us. “Would either of you mind if I handle the details? Some of the best vendors in Ragusa only speak Italian.”
That she’d thought to ask meant the world to me. “That would be great, thank you.”
“I should get started.” She gave me a quick hug, her son a peck on the cheek, and all but ran for her car.
Standing in the door, Gabe waved, but rather than coming back inside, he frowned. “We have more company. Shanna’s here. Looks like she’s been crying.”
“Really?” I leaped from the couch and regretted it immediately. My head swam, and my right knee felt as if someone had driven a hot poker through it.
Gabe slid his arms around me before I toppled into the coffee table. “Whoa, there!”
“Sorry.” I plopped back down.
Red faced and puffy-eyed, S
hanna came through the open door. “Where’s Evelyn going? I thought we were planning a wedding?”
“We’re getting married in Sicily.” Gabe backed his way toward the kitchen.
“Cool. I’ll catch you two later.” She sighed and turned for the door.
“Uh-uh. No way. Not until you tell me why you’re upset.” I motioned for her to sit.
Sinking into a chair, she eyed Gabe. “Have you talked to Enzo lately?”
He muttered something under his breath and shook his head.
What in the world was wrong with him? “Shanna, what’s going on?”
She dipped her chin.
I narrowed my eyes at my fiancé. Judging by his reaction, he had at least a vague idea of what had Shanna so upset. It seemed his promise to tell me what he could didn’t extend to his brothers’ personal lives.
“I’m going to check Ella’s diaper.” He grabbed the baby and hot-footed it out of the room.
Shanna waited until the bedroom door closed. “Enzo and I had a moment at the gala before Gabe told us you were missing. Now, he’s ghosting me.”
“That jerk.” I didn’t know Enzo as well as the other brothers, but he’d never struck me as the type to hit and run.
“It’s ridiculous to get so upset over an almost one night stand, but we texted all day and talked on the phone for hours every night since the gala. I thought…” She wiped her eyes on the back of her hand.
“Maybe he’s busy with work or something’s come up?”
“I saw him with an Italian supermodel-type this morning. She was dripping in designer clothes and jewelry. They seemed close.”
“Are you sure she was Italian?”
Shanna smirked. “I overheard them talking.”
“Gabe?” I spoke loud enough for him to hear me from the back of the house.
He peeked around the corner as if afraid he’d catch a case of estrogen. “Yeah?”
“Do you have family visiting from Italy? A woman, tall, thin, fancy clothes, and friendly with Enzo?”
“Sounds like Nicolina Lazio.” His jaw tensed. “Definitely not family.”
Shanna’s frown deepened.
I stared at him until he squirmed. “Who is she?”
He held his hand up. “Don’t force me to break the bro-code.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Spill it.”
“They’ve dated on and off.” He glanced back down the hall likely planning his retreat. “If it’s any consolation, he’s not interested in Nico.”
“Thanks for clarifying, but I’m done worrying about it.” Shanna sat straighter. “Your brother’s an ass.”
I didn’t believe her for a second. She hadn’t been so worked up over a guy since high school. I’d get the truth out of her alone over a gallon of ice cream
“Tell me something I don’t know.” Gabe held Ella over his head, smiling at her like an idiot.
I watched in horror as the inevitable happened.
Ella giggled and cooed and spit up. A mixture of drool and soured formula fell in a straight line, into Gabe’s open mouth. The man didn’t miss a beat. He walked to the kitchen, rinsed, and spit.
My stomach lurched. “Gross.”
He waved me off like it was nothing.
Shanna slapped her palm on her forehead. Laughing, she turned to me. “He doesn’t act like a card-carrying member of the Bourbon Street Bad Boys Club.”
I rested my hand on my tummy. “Some bad boys grow up and become good men.”
Thank you for reading ABSINTHE MINDED. I hope you enjoyed Maggie and Gabe’s story.
Curious to know what really happened between Shanna and Enzo? Will the Marchionni brothers break free from the mafia?
Get your copy of HIGHBALL & CHAIN now to find out. Here’s a hint – it all goes sideways at the destination wedding in Italy.
Chapter 1
Highball and Chain
Shanna
Cinderella never doubted her social skills. A new dress and glass shoes gave her all the self-confidence she needed to walk in and dance with the prince. Too bad I didn’t have a fairy godmother or a pumpkin carriage to get me through my best friend’s engagement party.
Who am I kidding? It’s going to take a lot more than pixie dust to survive tonight.
I’d rather have a root canal than spend a night hobnobbing with New Orleans’ rich and infamous. Then again, high society events and dentistry had a lot in common. Both were agony made barely tolerable by copious amounts of numbing agents.
Don’t get me wrong, I was happy for the newly engaged couple. They’d managed to do the impossible, find love.
Me? I’d long since stopped believing in knights in shining armor riding in on white horses to save the day. Heck, if my prince ever did arrive, he’d be a misogynist pig, and his noble steed would shit on my lawn.
Nope. I didn’t believe in love and romance any more than I believed in fairy-tales. I’d learned to doubt men when my father left. My doubt had solidified into a cynical distrust when I started working for a private investigator.
I loved my job…most of the time. Tonight? Not so much.
Two hours hiding behind a planter in a hallway of the Bourbon Orleans Hotel could do that to a girl. If I didn’t shoot some video of the mayor and his flavor of the week soon, I’d never make it to Maggie and Gabe’s party on time.
Over the previous few days, I’d photographed the elected official with a blonde, a brunette, and a redhead—variety was the spice of life after all. Tonight’s spice was an Amazonian woman with dark hair and legs that belonged in the WNBA.
Most of the good citizens of New Orleans knew their mayor was a cheating piece of crap, but I needed proof. So far, I’d filmed them exchanging documents and what I assumed were envelopes of cash. However, Mrs. Carter wasn’t interested in her husband’s dirty politics.
Pictures might be worth a thousand words, but for me, an incriminating video was a month’s rent, and the difference between pasta at Antoine’s and ramen noodles.
The mayor and the brunette exited their room without as much as a boob graze, but I took a couple of photos to document the time.
I hiked my bag higher and strolled down the hall. My boss had taught me the key to maintaining one’s cover was to blend in, act like you belonged, and deny, deny, deny. Alex was a top-notch private investigator, but he knew squat about being a female in a male profession.
As such, I took a slightly different approach. I stood out and acted like I didn’t give a flying fig.
The couple stepped into the elevator. I picked up my pace and jammed a size eight Doc Marten in the closing doors. Once inside, I ignored their frowns and swiped right to activate my smartwatch spy camera. Aiming the lens at the couple, I pretended to scroll through my phone and prayed for him to break his freaking vows.
Jefferson Carter, father of three, and husband of twenty-six years, did not disappoint. He kissed the Amazon like he was trying to eat her face off. Seriously, I’d seen cows chewing cud with more finesse.
The recording rolled the entire time. Gotcha, asshole.
The elevator stopped, and we stepped out. The mayor and the woman turned right while I faked a left and ducked back once they were out of sight. Peeking around the corner, I eased my watch into position and continued to record them. Afterall, when proving infidelity, quantity often trumped quality.
The brunette’s eyes went wide. “Hey! Stop!”
Busted.
Carter didn’t scare me, but his playmate looked like she could pick me up and toss me out the window without chipping her nail polish. I made a break for the exit and didn’t stop until I reached Royal Street. Heart pumping, thigh muscles screaming, I bent at the waist to catch my breath.
The bells of St. Louis Cathedral chimed seven times, reminding me I was late for Maggie and Gabe’s party. The Marchionni-Guthrie nuptials would take place in Sicily, but the couple’s mothers had strong-armed them into holding a pre-wedding event—a black-tie event. My jeans and T-shirt w
eren’t going to cut it.
Lucky for me, I’d been a boy scout in a former life. Always be prepared.
I headed down Royal and ducked into Landry & Sons Antiques.
The owner, and one of my oldest friends, glanced up from his paperwork. “Shanna, what a surprise.”
“Sarcasm doesn’t become you, Jack.” I pointed to the backroom without slowing my pace. He might or might not have groaned, not that I cared. I had places and people and all that jazz.
Five minutes later, I emerged from the stockroom in a vintage dress that would make Jackie Kennedy drool and a pair of second-hand Jimmy Choo knock-offs. “How do I look?”
He quirked a single brow and motioned for me to turn. “Wrinkled.”
I smoothed the fabric over my hips. “It was in my bag all day.”
Jack, bless his heart, walked to a jewelry case and pulled out a necklace. “Here. Put this on, and no one will notice the dress.”
The thing looked like it cost more than my car. “I can’t. What if I lose it?”
“It’s insured.” He motioned me closer. “A girl has to look the part, even if the girl lives on a dental floss budget.”
I turned my back to him. “The term is shoe-string.”
“Honey, in your case, it’s more like thread.” Jack fastened the necklace and spun me around. “Gorgeous, but you’re late.”
“I know. I know. I was working.” I zipped my backpack and hoisted it to my shoulder.
“Leave the bag.” He pointed at my wrist. “And the watch.”
“I can’t. I don’t have a purse and this dress doesn’t have pockets.” I batted my lashes. “And without my watch, how will I know how many steps I’ve taken?”
This time, Jack did groan. “One of these days, I’ll make a girl out of you.”
Laughing, I handed over my backpack and spy watch. “It’s woman, and no thanks.”
“Well, you’re all woman tonight.” His voice came out somewhere between strangled and breathy.
I turned and caught him checking out my ass. That’s new. “Thanks, Jack.”
“I have a gold brocade bag in back that will match the embroidery on your dress…”
Absinthe Minded: A Mafia Romantic Comedy (Bourbon Street Bad Boys' Club Book 1) Page 25