Friends and Lovers Trilogy 02 - Charmed

by Beth Ciotta

  She stiffened in his arms. “I do?”

  He smiled, nipped her earlobe. “Turns me on.” He pressed her hand over his arousal to prove the point.

  She pushed off him, eyes wide, cheeks red. “Well, stop it! I mean save it. I mean … I have to take a shower.” She flung her jeans on the bed and streaked toward the master bathroom. “Can I use your shampoo?”

  “Help yourself.”

  “Don’t discuss anything important without me,” she said, and slammed shut the bathroom door.

  That’s exactly what he planned to do. Murphy bolted, pulling a T-shirt over his head as he strode toward the living area. He heard the shower blast and grinned. He hadn’t meant to embarrass Lulu … well, yeah, he had. Telling her she smelled like sex had been a sure fire way to buy a few private minutes with Bogie. Given the intensity of her mortification, she’d probably shampoo and soap up her body three times before risking a confrontation with their company. Too bad he couldn’t witness the festivities.

  He adjusted himself—damned boner—and paused in the archway separating the library from the living area. Bogie had killed the music. He and Sofie sat at opposite ends of his couch, drinking beers and trading glares. Okay. He strode in and settled in the opposing recliner. He didn’t bother asking Sofie to leave. He knew she wouldn’t budge. Besides, if Bogie didn’t want her privy to info, she wouldn’t be here. “Talk to me.”

  Bogie leaned forward, the beer bottle dangling from his fingertips. “You’ve probably guessed, but we’re setting up the Falcones. This has been a long time coming. The government’s been after these bastards for years. I’ve been undercover for three months. I only recently gained Paulie’s trust enough to be included on a few outings with him and his flunkies.”

  “How’d you get in and how did you know about Paulie’s interest in Lulu?”

  Bogie picked at the beer label. Peeled, picked. Peeled, picked. He glanced up at Murphy, his eyes raging with guilt. “I hooked up with Paulie’s niece, Julietta Marcella. We’re … living together.”

  Sofie stirred, her voice a strangled rasp. “You’re sleeping with the enemy?” It sounded more like an accusation than a question.

  Bogie directed his answer at Murphy. “It’s business.”

  “She know that?” he asked, cringing at the conflict in his brother’s eyes.

  “She thinks I’m a legit wannabe club manager. The Bureau set me up as a bartender at one of her favorite hangs. A few drinks on the house and I was in.”

  Sofie snorted. “So to speak.”

  “Julietta has a weakness for alcohol, drugs, and attentive men,” he went on. “She’s young, jaded, and needy as hell.”

  Sofie shook her head in awe. “You’re using an innocent girl to get to a bunch of thugs. How does that make you any better than them?”

  “She’s not so innocent,” Bogie said, without making eye contact. No comment on his ethics. “Julietta’s taken me to a few family functions. The Princess appeared at one of them on Saturday.”

  “The Ditelli party,” Murphy offered.

  “Yeah. I’d seen her before at the Carnevale.”

  “Paulie has a weakness for blackjack and friendly eye-candy,” Sofie said with a smirk.

  Again, Bogie ignored her. “I didn’t realize how serious his fascination was until I overheard him talking to his brother, Sal. Paulie talked Louis Ditelli, his second cousin, into firing the clown he’d hired for his daughter’s party in favor of Princess Charming. Said his daughter would get a kick out of the Princess, which she did. Everyone did. She charmed the entire family, from age three to eighty-three, the moment she entered the room. A bundle of energy with a thousand-watt smile.”

  “That’s Lulu,” Sofie said, and Murphy silently agreed.

  “Paulie was mesmerized. At one point, he nudged Sal, who always looks like he’s in a fucking daze, and said, “She’s the one.” That’s when I knew Lulu was in trouble. His rumored pattern is obsession, seduction, and destruction.”

  “Jesus.” Sofie paled two shades, bolted out of her seat and started pacing.

  Bogie started to rise, and then changed his mind. He closed his eyes and pressed fingertips to his lids as if stemming a blinding migraine.

  Murphy reached out and caught the woman’s hand as she walked by. Her skin was ice cold. “Bogie and I can take this to another room, Sofie. You don’t need to hear this.”

  “Yes, I do. I need to know what Lu’s up against. I’m fine.” She forced a smile, squeezed his hand. “Really.” She pulled free, and reclaimed her seat. “It’s just so twisted. I think of a man like that getting a hold of her and …”

  Bogie cut her off. “Don’t go there.”

  “It’s not going to happen,” Murphy added. The thought of that sick bastard laying hands on Lulu filled him with disgust and a rage he rarely experienced. The kind of rage that blurred a man’s thinking. Distance yourself. Distance is key. He rolled back his shoulders, focused. “Why didn’t you report this to the SAC? He could’ve assigned one of your own to watch her back.”

  “Robinson’s obsessed with this case. He’ll do whatever it takes to bring down the Falcones.”

  “Sounds contagious,” Sofie mumbled.

  Bogie nailed her with a sidelong glare. “If he thought he could’ve somehow used your sister as bait, he would have.”

  “And you figured one sacrificial lamb was enough,” she bit off.

  Ouch. Yeah, the fact that Bogie was banging an unsuspecting woman to get close with the Falcones sucked. But Sofie didn’t know Bogie the way Murphy did. The guilt was eating his brother alive.

  Bogie slammed back the rest of his beer.

  Murphy cocked a brow at Sofie, silently warning her to back off. “All right. I get why you called me in. I get that the feds are setting up a sting and that somehow Oz is involved. I get that you need, want, Paulie Falcone.” He dipped his chin. “By the way, bro, off the record? You better handle Paulie, or I will.”

  Bogie’s answer was an almost imperceptible nod.

  “I’d ix-na the illing-ka talk before Lulu gets in here,” Sofie whispered.

  “Your Pig Latin sucks almost as bad as your Italian,” Bogie said, though his mouth was curved in what almost resembled a smile. “And who said anything about killing?”

  She rolled her eyes. “I wasn’t born yesterday. Lulu, however, is a throw back to the Victorian age.”

  “The Princess is a peacekeeper,” Murphy told him. “Just say no to guns.”

  Now Bogie did smile. “Presents a bit of a problem for you, doesn’t it, Murph?” He glanced toward the bedroom. “That’s if I’m reading this right.”

  “I’ll handle it.” Somehow. “It’s you who has a problem. I needed backup. I called Jake Leeds.”

  “Man,” Bogie said, stroking that beatnik patch of hair beneath his mouth. “You must’ve been up shit’s creek. Is he still carrying that grudge?”

  “‘Til the day he dies, no doubt.”

  “Or until you get married.”

  Murphy noticed Sofie glancing back and forth between the two of them trying to make sense of the conversation. He wasn’t about to fill her in. His affair with Joni was ancient history.

  She crossed her arms over her chest. “You have something against marriage, Murphy?”

  He thought about Lulu, smiled. “Nope.”

  “You don’t?” Wide-eyed, Bogie swept off his sock cap and dragged his hand through his too-long hair. “Well, damn. This got complicated, didn’t it?”

  “Actually, the complication comes in the form of two guys who work at Oz. Rudy Gallow and Jean-Pierre Legrand.”

  Bogie nodded. “The chauffeur and that flaming costume dude. They’re a couple, right?”

  “Yes,” Sofie snapped. “And Jean-Pierre is not a flamer. He’s just a little flamboyant.”

  “Yeah, whatever, so what about them?”

  “Lulu and Sofie know them well. And so does Jake. They don’t just know them,” Murphy said, “they’re fr
iends. The topper? Rudy’s best friend is Jake’s wife.”

  “Jake got married? Where the hell have I been?”

  “Screwing the sacrificial lamb,” Sofie grumbled.

  Murphy was about to ask Sofie-I’ve-got-a-burr-up-my-ass-Marino to wait outside when a barefoot Lulu blew into the room. Wet curls slicked back into a messy ponytail, she wore her curve-hugging jeans and had helped herself to one of his T-shirts. She looked damn cute and perfectly at home.

  “What did I miss?”

  Sofie jerked a thumb at Bogie. “Special Agent Bogart is screwing someone for God and country.”

  “At least I’m not screwing someone to advance my career.”

  Sofie blanched then came back with an eye-blackening, “You sure about that?”

  Murphy blinked at the backbiting pair. What the hell? Lulu looked just as perplexed, and significantly more upset. She eyed the canyon-wide space on the couch that separated Hatfield and McCoy. Murphy snagged her hand and pulled her onto his lap. He didn’t know what was brewing between Bogie and Sofie, but he didn’t want her in the middle of the bizarre feud. Also, discussing her stalker made him edgy, and he wanted her close. Real close. That she didn’t resist warmed his heart. In fact, she settled on his lap and reached for his hand as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Weird. One sexual encounter, okay, two, and they were in relationship sync. He waited for Sofie to make a snide comment, but she seemed to be saving those for Bogie.

  “We were discussing Rudy and Jean-Pierre,” Murphy said. Time to cut to the chase. “Bro, I need you to guarantee that those two won’t get caught up in whatever’s going down.”

  “Can’t do that.” Bogie held out his palm to silence them. “Legrand is probably clear. But Gallow’s in the thick of it.”

  “Are you saying Rudy’s a criminal?” Lulu snapped, balling her free hand in her lap

  “I’m saying there’s a 99% chance that he’ll play a key role in the transaction.”

  Sofie gripped the arm of the couch. “What transaction?”

  Murphy wrapped his hand around Lulu’s clenched fist and gave a comforting squeeze. “Jake threatened to warn Rudy and Jean-Pierre away from Oz if I couldn’t guarantee their safety, Joe.” Murphy kept his tone calm to counteract the rising tension. “If I can’t do that, I need to qualify the risk. I know Jake. He’ll do what he deems necessary to protect his own. That includes compromising your investigation.”

  Bogie glanced at his watch, stroked his moustache. “If this gets out—”

  “It won’t,” Sofie and Lulu said as one.

  He nodded. “All right. The Falcones are involved in an international Ecstasy smuggling ring. The actual investigation, Operation Candy Jar, has been underway for over a year. They’re importing millions of dollars worth of tablets from a source in Paris using exotic dancers and cocktail waitresses as couriers. Paulie compensates the couriers with a paid vacation to France and a hefty cash bonus to fly back into the United States with a load of Ecstasy.”

  “What’s Ecstasy?” Lulu asked.

  “It’s a street name for MDMA,” Bogie said. “An illegal stimulant that—”

  “I know what it does,” Lulu said, her cheeks burning red.

  Murphy soothed a hand up and down her rigid spine. What she didn’t know was that MDMA was the drug of choice at teenage raves. When she learned kids twelve and up experimented with the “love drug,” she was going to, as she called it, wig out. “So the Falcones are dealing through Ruby Slippers?”

  “The entire Oz complex operates as a base. We’re attempting to nail the Falcones and various accomplices for illegal importation, trafficking, and use of Ecstasy. Vincent’s the ringleader, but we can’t seem to hook the slippery bastard. We can get Sal, not the brightest stick in the candelabrum, and we can get to Paulie. He pays an unsuspecting decoy, usually in the form of a flamboyant cross-dresser, to travel with the courier hoping that he’ll command the attention of the customs agents, allowing the courier to slip by undetected. All of the pieces are in place.” Bogie leaned forward. “We know that another shipment is scheduled to arrive this week. We just don’t know the specific date.”

  Sofie palmed her forehead. “Anthony said something about his boss hiring a European drag artist. He was pissed because he’d never heard of this performer and couldn’t scare up any credentials. He didn’t even have the flight information yet, and that really irked him because he didn’t know when to schedule rehearsals or the actual performance.”

  “There’s your decoy,” Murphy said to Bogie. “He’ll probably send the company chauffeur to pick up this so-called drag artist and the courier, which makes Gallow a freaking accessory.”

  “Tell Jake if Gallow’s clean, he won’t get burned. He has my word. Tell him not to rock the boat. We’re days away from putting a serious dent in the accessibility of an increasingly dangerous narcotic. I think that qualifies the risk.”

  “It does,” Lulu said, surprising Murphy as well as her sister. “Well, it does. Rudy would agree. Can’t we let him in on it though? I mean wouldn’t he be safer if he knew details?” She asked Bogie.

  Bogie was too busy glaring at Sofie to answer. “You’re tight with Rivelli? Are you insane? His fiancée is a freaking nutcase! Angela’s almost as possessive and vindictive as her cousin Paulie! If she finds out you’re screwing—”

  “It’s not like that!” Sofie’s cheeks bloomed with two fire-red blotches.

  Murphy watched in amazement as her eyes filled with tears. Sofie who’d threatened his nads with a pair of scissors. Sofie with the smart-ass, kick-ass attitude.

  She rose stiffly, her purse tucked beneath her arm. “Excuse me. I need to go to the bathroom.” She glanced around, looking lost in more ways than one.

  Murphy pointed. “Through there. Down the hall, second door on the right.”

  Lulu scowled at Bogie, then called to her sister who was already halfway across the room. “Do you want me to come with you?”

  Sofie shook her head, no, and then she was gone. A door slammed. Presumably the bathroom door.

  “If I advocated violence,” Lulu said to Bogie. “I’d come over there and smack you.”

  “He deserves a hell of a lot more than a smack,” Murphy said. He’d never known his brother to be so cruel. That was twice now that he’d made a judgmental crack about Sofie’s sexual conduct. “Why did you yell at her?”

  “Because she doesn’t use the brain she was born with.”

  “We all know Anthony,” Lulu said, coming to her sister’s defense. “He used to be a VP at the Carnevale.”

  Murphy squeezed her hand, showing his support. “According to the newspapers, Rivelli broke off with Angela Falcone.”

  “He lied. With Angela’s blessing. Thought it would save his executive casino position. It bought him some time, but eventually he was booted. So she asked Paulie to set him up with a job and to keep an eye on him while she’s in prison. Even though she doesn’t trust Rivelli, and he knows she doesn’t trust him, they have plans to elope when she gets out. A real weird-ass love match. Anyway, Paulie gave Rivelli a job, but he told Angela he wasn’t a fu—” He glanced at Lulu. “Sorry. A freaking babysitter. That doesn’t mean Sal wouldn’t tip off Angela if he saw Rivelli cheating. Unlike Paulie, Sal has strict ideas on fidelity.”

  Murphy shook his head. “How do you know all this?”

  Bogie worked his jaw. “Julietta.”

  “Who’s Julietta?” Lulu asked.

  “Never mind. Christ,” Murphy said, scraping his hand over his chin. “Could this get anymore complicated?”

  “Actually, yeah.” Bogie stood, reached into his pocket, and passed Murphy a gift card. “Lulu has rival admirers.”

  His blood heated as he read the fancy script aloud. “Hope this makes up for the inappropriate gift and our cross words. Love, Paulie.” Freaking-A. Jaw clenched, he glanced at Bogie. “Where’d you get this?”

  “The girls’ house. The screened porch to be exact. A
long with a gigantic pink teddy bear and six different flower arrangements.” Bogie looked at Lulu. “Guess he hasn’t learned your fave flower yet. But color he knows. Roses, carnations, other varieties I didn’t recognize. All pink.”

  Lulu snatched the card from Murphy’s hands, stood, and paced. “I don’t believe this! I told him I wasn’t interested, didn’t I?” She stopped, thunked her forehead. “I didn’t.” She thunked her head again. “Darn! I scolded him for sending me an inappropriate gift and drugging me. I didn’t specifically tell him to bug off.”

  “Bug off,” Bogie said, with a quirk of the lips. “You sure you and Sofia are sisters?”

  “Same dad, different mom,” she said, looking half-dazed.

  Murphy grinned.

  Bogie blew out a breath. “Okay, Princess. A: You don’t scold a wise-guy. B: Fighting him only heightens the rush of the chase.”

  “I can’t believe this,” she croaked. “I can’t … think.” She massaged her temples. “My head is killing me.”

  Murphy reached for her. “Come here, honey.”

  “No, I need an aspirin. I need …” She drifted toward the stairs. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

  “Seems rattled,” Bogie said.

  “She’ll be okay.” Murphy fought the urge to follow. “She’s tougher than she looks.” Once she was out of earshot, he leaned forward and braced his forearms on his knees. “You mentioned rival admirers.”

  Bogie dropped back down on the couch, raked both of his hands through his hair, then copied Murphy’s stance. “Someone smashed in her jack-o-lantern. Smeared the word ‘tramp’ on the porch door window. Paulie didn’t do it. He’s in the seduction phase.”

  “You’re thinking she has another admirer. Someone who doesn’t appreciate that she’s getting gifts from another man. Someone who’s maybe seen her with me and assumes we’re an item.”

  “Are you?”

  Murphy raised a brow.

  “Man, when you fall, you fall fast.”

  “And hard.” Murphy blew out a breath, told himself to focus on the stalker, not the fact that Lulu was being stalked. “Sam Marlin.”