by Gina LaManna
“Will you leave us alone?” I pressed, still holding the necklace captive. “Promise me, first.”
“Yes, you fart,” she said, and I wondered if she’d meant that as an insult, or if she was working from a bogus Wikipedia translation. “Throw it.”
I tossed the necklace. She caught it, examined it, and then smiled. Obviously she couldn’t tell a fake from the real deal. Not all sparkles were created equal, but I didn’t need to break that news to her, especially when she raised her gun and pointed it at my head.
“Hey!” I barely yelled the word before Alessandra tackled me to the ground
Angelica fired off a shot anyway, ripping a chunk out of the ancient stone building behind us. “Stop moving!” she instructed. “You chicks are so annoying!”
Alessandra kept us rolling toward Angelica. I might have breathed a thank-you, but it was smushed, along with my face, into the cement. As we barreled toward the model, I lunged for her legs. Luckily her legs were as long as a giraffe’s, which made them hard to miss. I connected, and we all crashed into a heap.
“Oh, there you are! Finally. I’ve been looking everywhere for you, Lace.” From one of the side alleys, Meg appeared, flanked by Clay and Anthony. “Why do you keep going around and getting in fights without me? I’ve been practicing my high kicks all over the place, ask Clay—I accidently clipped him on the way over here. But now, I’m ready for a challenge. And why are you sittin’ on Angelica?”
Anthony took one look at the situation and pulled me off Angelica. The top model lay wheezing on the ground as Alessandra snatched up the gun. Meg spotted her opportunity, and plunked herself right on top of Angelica’s stomach.
“Maybe you should let her breathe,” I said, once I caught my own breath. “Just a little bit.”
Meg seemed pretty disinterested in the idea, but when Baby Arnold started to wail from Clay’s arms, she stood up and went to comfort the plastic doll. “There, there. It’s okay.”
Angelica didn’t move, her figure sprawled across the cobblestones. Mostly, we ignored her as she sucked in oxygen. She was stick-thin and unarmed, and I knew from firsthand experience that her self-defense skills left something to be desired. So I gave her some space.
“What happened at the party?” Meg asked. “The lights went out and you vanished. I thought maybe you were getting your groove on to the music, but then Anthony couldn’t find you either. That’s when things got weird. Anthony’s always got one eye on your buns.”
“No, he doesn’t,” I said. “Do you?”
It took Anthony a moment to respond, as he dragged his eyes up my lower body to my head. “Of course not. Sometimes I look at your…face.”
I crossed my arms.
“Can you blame me?” His face broke into a smile, though a pinch of tension glistened in his eyes. He stepped toward me, turning serious. “Are you okay?”
“She should probably see a doctor at some point,” Alessandra said. “She got stuck with a needle twice.”
The tension in Anthony’s eyes turned to rage. He cleared his throat and tried to remain calm. “A needle?”
“It’s nothing.” I wrapped my arms around his neck. “I’m okay, I promise.”
Anthony grasped my shoulders and separated our bodies as he looked me over. I gave him my biggest smile, trying to show him everything truly would be fine. Eventually, he sighed. He clutched me to his chest and made a noise in his throat. “Are you sure you’re not interested in a job at the bank? Or better yet, you could stay home and—”
“—and do what?” I asked. “Cook? My toaster skills are horrendous.”
“So are many of her other cooking skills,” Meg said. “I should know. I’m usually the one stuck eating it.”
Anthony brushed my hair away from my face. “Since that’s a no on the bank job, I suggest you start from the beginning and tell me everything.”
I slipped my hand through Anthony’s. “Only if we can walk and talk.”
“What are we supposed to do with her?” Alessandra nodded at the model, still lying on the ground.
“Let’s take her with us.” I reached over, grasped Angelica’s twig-like arms, and yanked. “Get up, girlfriend. We’ve got work to do.”
We set off, urging Angelica ahead of us. Meg followed, along with Clay and Arnold, while the rest of us brought up the caboose.
“What are you planning to do with her, boss?” Meg asked. “My butt is always available for squishing people, if needed. I do love a good squish.”
“I want Angelica to see The Chad for herself,” I said. “I bet you one gelato that the second we show up he’ll throw her under the bus. That should take care of things.”
“He’d never,” Angelica called over her shoulder. “He loves me. He’ll protect me.”
Chapter 47
Five minutes later, we had our answer.
The Luzzi Clan plus Alessandra stayed out of sight in an alley. The apartment where we’d been held hostage sat in front of us, police flanking the outsides. It appeared that Bill the Toothless Giant had already been taken away. Even so, the commotion levels were high in the area.
A minute after we arrived, The Chad was hustled out of the apartment, hands cuffed behind his back. An official pushed Chad against a cop car. Apparently Beckett—or someone else—had left Chad alive, and then tipped the police off about the man in the closet.
The gang waited quietly, Clay’s hand pressed over Baby Arnold’s mouth, just in case.
“Go on,” I said to Angelica. “Talk to him. See what he has to say, if you trust him.”
Angelica’s eyelashes fluttered. Her indecision lasted for only a second before she turned, taking confident steps toward her boyfriend. More than one cop turned to stare at the tall beauty as she approached.
“There she is,” The Chad called. “That’s her! She’s the one who scammed me.”
Angelica’s chin tilted upward, but she didn’t stop walking. “It’s okay, it’s me. I’m here to help you,” she said to The Chad.
“This was all her idea!” The Chad pointed his chin at her, his lip trembling. “She wanted the jewels, not me!”
I felt a pinch of sadness for Angelica as her red-painted lips opened into a small “O” of surprise.
“This is where we leave,” I said. “Let’s get out of here.”
“Chickadee, she’s still got the necklace,” Meg said. She raised her eyebrows. “I’m the first to admit that math isn’t my specialty, but isn’t that piece expensive? And isn’t it your job to get it back?”
“It’s fake,” I said. “I’ll fill you in on our way to find Lizabeth. Any thoughts where she might be?”
“Lizabeth? Oh yeah, girl. She was shaking her tail feathers like a Polaroid picture back at the party,” Meg said. “I don’t think she even realized you were gone. I didn’t bother to tell her either because after I taught her the Macarena moves, she started jumping and clapping all night long. Didn’t matter if the song was Baby Got Back or My Heart Will Go On—you know, that good, old Titanic sap song—she was shaking like a bobblehead. I envy that sort of free spirit.”
“You have that sort of free spirit,” I said. “You jump and shake all the time.”
“I suppose that’s true,” Meg said. “Plus, the champagne probably didn’t help much with the inhibitions. I bet she’s still over there turning in circles on the dance floor. Let’s go.”
I agreed, and as a gigantic group, we set off. One block later, I began my story about Beckett, The Violet Society, his betrayal—and the missing jewels. By the time I got to the part about Beckett pulling off the rest of his heist tonight, my stomach had spiraled into knots. When I finished the tale, I felt sick to my stomach.
Somehow, I had to tell Lizabeth that after all this—after all of the disasters and chances and risks—it was for naught. Because at the end of the night, I didn’t have the necklace.
I also didn’t have shoes, but that wasn’t quite as important.
Chapter 48
By the time we reached the doors of the party hall, I was leaning so hard on Anthony I could hardly stand. He dragged me through the street until, finally, he stopped walking completely and let the rest of the group go on ahead.
“Lacey, things happen. You can’t beat yourself up over this.” Anthony’s eyes darkened, almost black, as he ran his knuckles along my chin. His eyes took in my cut, my bruises, and he shook his head. “Who did this to you? The pretty boy with the ugly hair? Someone else?”
“It’s over—they’re all arrested. It’s no use going after them now.” I forced a small smile. “And if you go after them and get yourself in trouble, they’ll lock you in an Italian prison. I don’t want to get married in an Italian prison.”
“They can’t stop me from marrying you. Nobody can.” He kissed my forehead. “Come on, let’s get this over with and talk to Lizabeth.”
“What do I say?”
“Tell her exactly what happened. You were abducted, knocked out twice with a dangerous drug—”
“—to be clear, I’m not a hundred percent sure it was dangerous.”
“You’re missing the point,” Anthony said through clenched teeth. “Nobody should be injecting you with anything.”
“Except maybe nurses,” I said. “You know, flu shots and chicken pox boosters.”
Anthony’s patience was waning, so I laid off on the attempts at lightheartedness as he gripped my wrist in his hand. “Tell Lizabeth that you know who took the jewels. Tell her about Beckett’s threat to pull a heist tonight. Then tell her that we’ll catch him in the act.”
“We?”
“I’m not sleeping until you’re happy, and you won’t be happy until we catch this guy.”
“That’s really sweet.”
“I’m not that sweet,” Anthony said. He brought me into a hug, a hug so tight I couldn’t wriggle away. “I’m selfish. I want to get you in bed for other reasons, if you catch my drift. And I know you’ll have none of that until the job is done.”
“I catch your drift,” I said, with a light smack to his arm. “And…” I paused as Lizabeth approached. A wave of self-consciousness burned on the back of my neck at the thought of what she’d almost overheard. “Hello, Lizabeth.”
She smiled, a light in her eyes dancing happily as she reached for my hand and kissed the back. “Congratulations on a job well done. Where did you go? Your funny friend taught me the most wonderful dance. Have you heard of the Macarena?”
“Once or twice,” I said, “in eighth grade. Anyway…look, there’s something I have to tell you—”
“You didn’t have to put the necklace away so soon,” she interrupted me. “I would’ve rather had you stay and enjoy the party.”
“About the necklace…” I hesitated. “Hold on a second, what do you mean put it back?”
“In the safe!” Her laugh tinkled through the night air. “I got a call from Bruce not two minutes ago saying that the necklace was tucked in for the night. He verified it and everything, as he always does when it’s removed from the case. All is well and good.”
“The safe in your store,” I said stiffly, as I tried to piece together the puzzle. Meg was right, Lizabeth must not have even noticed I was gone. Probably too busy jumping and shaking to the Macarena. “Bruce is there now?”
She frowned. “You didn’t see him? I swear he called less than five minutes ago.”
Realization hit me like a bucket of cold ice. “Oh, right. And Bruce checked that the necklace is…correct?”
“Well, yes! There’s a specific way to verify that it’s not an imitation. Everything checked out.” She gave a slight shake of her head. “Do you have any reason to believe it’s not real?”
“No,” I said, maybe too quickly. “Just wanted to make sure. Anyway, I’m pretty exhausted. Can we catch up more tomorrow?”
“Goodnight, cuties.” She reached out, squeezed Anthony’s cheek, and then pinched mine. “You’re adorable. We’ll talk tomorrow and Lacey, don’t forget about the fitting.”
After bidding goodbye to Lizabeth, the group re-gathered outside the venue, the last strains of music drifting into space.
“Care to explain what’s next on the agenda?” Meg asked as we set off toward Lizabeth’s shop. “I’m wearing your weirdo shoes and they’re killing my feet. Is there an end in sight?”
“The end is near,” I said, unable to hide a smile. “I know exactly what Beckett is up to, and I need to make sure I’m right.”
“What if you’re wrong?”
“Let’s just hope I’m right,” I said. “Because if I am, his plan is genius.”
Chapter 49
“He is a genius,” I said in disbelief, an hour later. “I can’t believe it.”
“Explain, please,” Meg said. “My feet hurt so much my brain isn’t working at full force.”
All of us stood in Lizabeth’s safe. Bruce had let us in upon Lizabeth’s request. I’d called her, explained I needed to see the necklace briefly. She’d agreed, and now I stood looking down at the real, true necklace. The Miranda. The piece I’d been hired to protect. Safe and sound underneath the bulletproof glass casing.
Bruce waited outside the safe, holding Baby Arnold in his gigantic hands. The whole thing was pretty cute, especially when he started humming lullabies in his deep, scary voice. Arnold seemed to like it.
“This is his trial for The Violet Society,” Alessandra said. She ran her fingers over the glass case as she leaned forward to look closer. “He’s had this planned for months.”
“This plan seems weird to me,” Meg said. “If I stole something, I’d probably keep it. Not that I steal things very often, but if I do, it’s because I want it.”
“Don’t steal,” I said. “That’s bad.”
“Just little things,” she said, as if that made everything okay. “For example I stole a spoon from my own bar last week because it was cute, and I wanted Clay to have it.”
“You stole from yourself?” Alessandra wrinkled her nose. “I don’t think that’s stealing at all.”
Meg wiped a hand across her forehead. “Whew, good thing, since that was weighing heavy on my conscience. I’m guilt free now, baby. What a great day.”
“Beckett pulled a reverse heist,” I said. “He stole…from a thief. Technically he snatched the jewels back, and then returned them to their rightful owners. I’ll bet you anything the rest of the designers will wake up to find their precious items have been restored.”
“Clever,” Alessandra said. “He proved he could get ahold of the jewelry and pull off a creative heist. Even better, he proved that he could be discreet. Best of all, he took care of the mess The Chad created. I’ll bet if Beckett hadn’t returned the jewels, the Society would have. They don’t steal from people like Lizabeth, Leslie, and the rest of the designers. They wouldn’t have approved of any of this.”
“Beckett took a lot of clean-up work off their plates,” I said, looking up. “And I’ll bet The Society appreciates it.”
“What does that mean for us?” Meg asked. “Are we going to go after him? Fight crime, and all that good stuff?”
“No,” I said with a smile. “I don’t think so. It’s time for us to go home.”
Chapter 50
We had bid goodbye to Alessandra outside of Lizabeth’s showroom. I gave her my phone number, feeling a little like a fangirl, and asked her to call me when we were all back in the States.
When we hugged, I whispered that this wasn’t the end of her search for The Society—not even close. The next time, she’d have a team behind her. Then she walked one way, and we walked the other, returning to our apartment in a state of complete and utter exhaustion.
“So Clay,” I said, as we climbed the stairs. “What was up with that bomb?”
“What bomb?” Clay fiddled with the doorknob. “Oh, you mean the necklace?”
“Yes,” I said. “It was supposed to explode on someone, but then I took it off and…” I wiggled my fingers. “Poof.
Nothing.”
Anthony stepped a little closer. He got sensitive about subjects like this. “What did I tell you about bombs, Clay?” Anthony raised his eyebrow. “It’s bad enough you’ve detonated my fiancé in the past, but now you’re dressing her in bombs that don’t even work correctly?”
Finally Clay looked up from fiddling with the keys. The grin on his face was as big as a banana. “There was no bomb.”
“What?” Anthony and I said in sync.
I surveyed my cousin. “What are you talking about? You love bombs. This is so uncharacteristic of you.”
“Yeah, but I love my…er…my life better,” Clay said. He glanced down at his pants. “Anthony threatened to remove my…uh,” he paused, flustered. “My, uh—”
“Nuts,” Meg filled in.
“Yeah, that,” Clay said, “if I ever put dynamite on you again without his permission.”
“Then why’d you pretend you did?” I leaned on the door frame. Sometimes I loved my family. Most times I didn’t understand them. “There was no point to it then.”
“Sure there was,” Clay said. “The necklace was going to be safer if you wore it instead of that other girl. Lizabeth came to me privately, and she asked if I thought you should be the model instead of Angelica.”
“She did?”
“Yeah, but I told her hell, no. You don’t even put pants on during a normal day,” Clay said. “I told her you would say no, anyway. You don’t like that sort of thing. I should know, I lived with you for about ten years.”
“More like three years, Clay.”
“Huh.” He scratched his head. “Felt like ten.”
I felt a growl coming on, but Clay kept talking.
“Then I saw that girl who was supposed to wear it, and I knew that wouldn’t work,” Clay said. “So I pretended to put a bomb around your neck. But don’t blame me. The plan was Lizabeth-approved from the get-go.”
“You both had me fooled,” I said. “The day she called us to the safe, I really thought you’d stolen the necklace.”
“Oh, I had stolen it,” Clay said. “I wanted to make a few adjustments, and she totally freaked.”