by Gina LaManna
“Of course, Mrs. Luzzi.” Tony leaned in at the sight of my grandmother and quickly kissed her on the cheeks. “Sorry about the delay, I didn’t see you there.”
Nora tittered with laughter, and Meg only watched in admiration as Tony crumbled to a teddy bear before her. As we strode to the tasting room, Meg ogled Nora. “How do you do that?”
Nora fluffed her hair. “Do what?”
“Get men to bow down to you.”
“Honey...” She shook her mane of graying hair. “This is due to a lifetime of practice. And a lot natural talent. Mostly my natural sweetness.”
“Ah, gotcha. Do I have natural sweetness?”
Nora looked at Meg. “You have natural spunk. Harness that spunkiness, and you’ll go far.”
With her head held high, Meg and her spunkiness marched us into the back room and sat at the head of the table, then ordered cake and tea all around while the rest of us filtered into seats.
“I’m sorry.” Alessandra’s hands shook as she held a cup of chamomile tea a few minutes later. “I wasn’t going to kill him. I’ve never killed anyone, and I wouldn’t. The gun wasn’t even real.”
“Yet you pulled it on him,” I said. “And let us believe that it was real.”
“You’ve got something to share with us,” Nora said. “And I think we deserve to know what, seeing as we’re all probably on The Zebra’s hit list, now.”
“The Zebra’s hit list?” Vivian screeched. “What have you gotten me into? I didn’t ask for this. I swear, this family is crazy. Why do you think I’ve been keeping to myself lately?! I don’t have a death wish, you lunatics. Can we not have one nice day as a family without angering a psycho murderer?”
I turned to Alessandra. “I’m sorry to pry, but I do think you owe us an explanation. What happened in there?”
Her chocolate brown eyes blinked back at me, the same brown eyes as Anthony’s. I softened, reached for her hand, and squeezed.
“We were going to get married,” Alessandra whispered. “We had it all planned.”
“What? Who?” Meg looked around. “I don’t see an engagement ring on your finger.”
Instead of responding, Alessandra’s eyes teared up. “Beckett proposed to me at Christmas. We met in Italy, but then again, most of you know that.”
“I didn’t, since I wasn’t invited on the trip.” Vivian stuck her nose in the air. “But sure enough, y’all never forget to invite me to crappy cruises and bowling games that almost get us killed. Thanks a lot.”
“We were not almost killed,” Meg said. “None of us have a bullet wound.”
“Why didn’t you tell anyone earlier?” I asked gently. “None of us even suspected.”
“For obvious reasons, he keeps...” She paused, dunked her tea bag in her mug, and took a sip. “Kept a low profile. Once I’d returned from Italy and went back to California, he found me.”
“Found you where?” Meg asked.
“My apartment. He just showed up one night and asked me on a date.”
Nora sucked in a breath. “How romantic. Love at first heist.”
“I didn’t heist anything in Milan,” Alessandra said, “and neither did he. Well, mostly. He heisted jewelry to its rightful owners.”
“Back to the romance,” Nora clapped her hands. “I want to hear the happy ending.”
This froze the table, seeing as the ending to this story was still in motion, and most likely wouldn’t wrap up happy.
Alessandra made a noise in her throat and continued speaking. “We saw each other on and off for the first few months. Between his jobs and my own. Whenever we did meet up, it was always for a week at a time. Some exotic location, some dreamy beach where we...”
She paused at everyone’s expectant gazes.
“Do go on,” Meg said.
“Anyway, it was perfect. He was perfect. We finally started spending weeks on end together, and sometimes we’d accompany each other on jobs. We wrapped up one trip in Hawaii together at Christmas, and that’s where he popped the question.”
“And you said...?” Nora asked. “Please tell me you said yes.”
Alessandra nodded. “Due to the nature of our work, we both decided a quiet ceremony would be in order, maybe an elopement. In fact, a part of me suspected that Beckett would whisk me away after Lacey’s ceremony to tie the knot.”
“But he never made it to your date,” I said. “Which is why you were so upset this whole week.”
“I thought at first he’d stood me up,” she said. “But it just didn’t feel right, so I did some digging. I contacted The Violet Society. They’re the ones who told me he’d died.”
“When’s the last time you talked to him?”
“That’s the strange thing. Months ago, he got called to a project that would supposedly keep him away for a while. No timeline. Then out of the blue a few weeks ago, he called and said he’d meet me in Minnesota before your wedding.”
“He didn’t make it.”
“He made it to town, just not to meet me,” she corrected.
“How did you find the Violet Society?”
“My job is to find people or things that have no business being found,” she said. “I wouldn’t be very good if I couldn’t find my boyfriend’s place of employment, now would I?”
“One point to Alessandra,” Meg said.
“What did The Society say when you found them?” I asked. “They couldn’t have been happy to hear from you.”
“No, they weren’t. But they agreed to meet me, and they notified me of Beckett’s death.” Before we could ask, she licked her lips and continued. “They told me that he’d been found dead, and that it was suicide.”
“I don’t believe it,” I said. “I can’t believe that.”
“Me neither,” she agreed. “We were going to get married.” Her wide brown eyes turned in my direction. “If Anthony was found dead weeks before you were to be married, would you believe it?”
My heart thumped at the thought. “No.”
“So, you thought pulling a fake gun on one of the dangerous mobsters in town was the best way to deal with it?” Meg asked. “You could’ve at least mentioned your plan. I would’ve been your assistant.”
“It worked just fine, didn’t it?” Alessandra’s eyes pooled with tears. “The Zebra as good as admitted to murdering him.” Her shoulders dropped, her posture slouched toward the table as if the ache inside were eating her alive. “Now that I know, I just don’t care anymore. Whatever happens next won’t bring Beckett back to me.”
“We’ll find a way to make The Zebra pay.”
“Don’t do anything rash,” Nora warned. “That won’t help anything either, and Beckett wouldn’t have wanted either of you involved with the man. In the meantime, Alessandra, you’ll continue to stay with us while you’re in town,” Nora said, standing and waving for the waiter to bring the check. “Case closed.”
“Y’all are forgetting one thing,” Vivian announced once we’d paid the check. At our blank expressions, she chomped her gum extra loud. “The freakin’ Zebra knows our faces! Do you think he’s just gonna let us walk away with a free hall pass after that?”
“Anyone who’s worried can stay with us,” Nora amended. “We’ll be plenty safe in the estate. Carlos will take care of this matter in a jiffy, and then we’ll be able to get back to our wedding plans.”
“That’s not a bad idea. And in the meantime, we can look into it on our own.” I glanced at Alessandra. “Do you know what Beckett was working on before he died?”
Alessandra shook her head. “No. He didn’t give me any information about the mission, or why it would keep him away for so long.”
“What are the chances you can get me a meeting with The Violet Society?” I asked. “I think it’d be a good idea to find out what Beckett was up to on this assignment.”
“You think he was working on something that ticked off The Zebra?” Meg asked. “And eventually got him killed?”
“Possi
bly,” I said. “And if that’s the case, I don’t think The Violet Society will let The Zebra get away with murdering their representatives.”
“I imagine you’re correct,” Nora said. “Now, I’ve had an exhausting day, so I think I’d like a bath. Anyone else?”
The table once again fell silent.
“Fine, then. Rhetorical question,” Nora said. “I’m going home. Everyone is welcome to stay at the estate tonight. Lacey, does Anthony know what you’re up to?”
“More or less.”
“Good,” Nora said. “Now, let’s go before Lacey orders another piece of cake.”
Chapter 16
It wasn’t until well after the sun had set that I finally bid goodbye to Nora and the rest of the ladies, leaving them to tuck in at the estate while I headed home.
Meg, Vivian, and Alessandra had all taken Nora up on her offer to stay at the mansion tonight. At least two-thirds of them were staying thanks to a gourmet breakfast menu promised for the next morning.
As I headed home, I wondered how much Alessandra had told Anthony of the day’s events—if anything. After all, he’d sent her to follow me to the bowling alley. The chances were high he’d want a report on what had happened after it.
I passed the front lawn where Anthony had been working on some sort of fountain, tripping over a hunk of construction materials before finally landing on my front steps. Shoving the key in the door, I mumbled in annoyance as I pushed inside, only to come to an abrupt stop. And nearly die of a heart attack.
My home should be empty. Or at the very least, it should contain one handsome husband waiting patiently in bed for me to arrive. Instead, a blinking red light winked at me.
At first glance, it looked like a bomb. A second pass told me it was a hunk of metal, and the third time around, I finally recognized it for the robot it was.
“Clay!” I yelled. “Get over here and explain why Bob is answering my door!”
Clay poked his head up from the couch. All of the lights were dark, which led me to believe he’d been sleeping. His groggy voice confirmed it. “What?”
“What are you doing in my house, and why is Bob playing watchdog?”
“Because you put our lives in jeopardy!”
“Excuse me?” I shut and locked the door, gave Bob the evil eye, and flicked on the lights.
“I got a call from Meg telling me it’s too dangerous for her to sleep in our apartment, so she was going to be staying at the estate.” Clay scooted over to make room for me on the couch. “What was that supposed to make me think?”
“Why didn’t you go to the estate, too?”
“First of all, I wasn’t invited.” Clay scowled as I sat down. “Second of all, Carlos likes me as much as you like Bob.”
“Well, I don’t dislike Bob. I’m just a little curious about him, and slightly concerned he’ll kill me in my sleep.”
“I feel that exact same way about Carlos.”
I sighed. “So, you’re too scared to sleep in your apartment?”
“I’m not scared. I’m too smart for my own good.”
“How do you figure?”
“Well, I figured that if even Meg doesn’t want to sleep at home, you two annoyed some dangerous people. Bob and I certainly aren’t going to take the fall for it.”
“The bad people aren’t looking for you,” I muttered. “They’d come here first.”
Clay raised an eyebrow. “Are you saying that to try and get me to leave?”
“Nope!”
“Because you’re not fooling me,” Clay said. “Anthony’s sleeping here. He’s big and strong and tough.”
“What makes you think he’s going to protect you?”
“I’m family,” Clay huffed. “Or I will be soon enough. Plus, he likes protecting people.”
“I wouldn’t go that far.”
“Well, can I stay or what?”
I closed my eyes and exhaled a breath. I’d never planned to spend my pre-wedding week holed up in my home, hiding from mobsters and sharing a couch with my cousin and his robot.
“It has to do with The Zebra, doesn’t it?” Clay asked. “I knew I shouldn’t have given you information on him in the first place. See if I help you next time. I help you, and you just get me in trouble.”
“You can stay! But what happened to all those stupid alarms set up at your place?”
“Bob kept setting them off, so I disabled the whole setup.”
“Great. Well, he can stay too, so long as he doesn’t kill me in my sleep.” I stood up, pulled a blanket and extra pillows out of the hall closet, and threw them at Clay. “I’m going to bed. I don’t feel great.”
“Lock your door,” Clay mumbled. “I can’t control Bobert all that well.”
“Bobert?”
“I liked Robert, but it was too late for that. So, it’s Bobert instead. Anyway, where’s Anthony?”
“I assume he’s busy. We haven’t talked much today.”
“Who’s here to protect me?” Clay asked. “I’m fragile.”
“Me and Bobert,” I said. “Now go to bed and keep your pants on. Anthony will not be happy if you sleep on our couch in your underwear.”
***
The shrill scream hours later was my clue that something wasn’t quite right.
The second sign was a deep, low rumble of curses.
I decided to pretend none of it was happening. Clamping my eyes shut, I waited and listened as footsteps approached the bedroom. Heavy thuds. I could tell just from the tone of them that Anthony wasn’t particularly happy.
The door opened; the lights flicked on. I added a heavy snore to the mix.
“You’re not sleeping,” he growled.
“I am, too.”
“If you’re so talented at sleep-talking, explain to me why a robot answered my front door.”
My snores increased in volume.
“Lacey, I’m not in the mood. Don’t make me drag this out of you.”
“Drag what out of me?” I asked, feigning innocence. “I’ve been sleeping this whole time.”
My eyes were still clamped shut. The next thing I knew, the covers were yanked off, and a draft of cold air chilled my skin. Anthony paused mid-yank, and the comforter landed around my feet as he sucked in a breath of surprise.
“Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing.”
“What are you talking about?” I tugged at the pastel pink nightie I’d worn in lieu of my normal shorts and t-shirt. It dipped low on my chest, high on my thighs, with a hint of sheer lace for the straps. “I always look like this, darling.”
Another curse word—this one with a hint of disbelief. “You’re an evil genius.”
I offered a sleepy murmur of dismissal and squeezed my eyes closed even tighter. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“If you think this is going to distract me from the robot in my living room, you’re sorely mistaken.”
“Is that right?” I lifted the nightie just a bit higher on my thigh.
Everything was going according to plan. Anthony stopped talking. His hand reached out, a hiss of frustration following. Then some more exploration, and his fingers found the edge of my lingerie.
Things were progressing very well until a click sounded, and the door to the bedroom swung open.
“It’s all my fault!” Clay, arms raised in submission, burst into the room. “Stop! Don’t blame Lacey.”
I flew into a sitting position, wrapping the blankets around me as I got an unfortunate eyeful of Clay dressed in nothing but boxers. As we made eye contact, his face burst red. Little fireworks of blush on his forehead, his cheeks, even his neck.
“Oh, crap,” he said. “I’m so sorry.”
I closed my eyes and let the awkwardness slide through the room. There was no use fighting it at this point. Anthony’s hand came down on my shoulder then, squeezing tight. Then tighter and tighter, until I spluttered to life and reacted, tilting my head in dismay.
I waved my hands in
Clay’s general direction. “What did I tell you about wearing your underwear around our house? Put some clothes on, man.”
“I think I should be going,” Clay said. “If you’ll excuse me...”
I sighed. “Goodnight, Clay.”
Clay poked his head back in the room. “Just to clarify, by going, I just meant back to your couch. I’m not actually leaving.”
“Pants!” I yelled after him.
“Now I’m ready for an explanation.” Anthony turned his gaze on me. “And don’t you dare take that sheet off your body until you start talking. Your little plan isn’t going to work on me.”
“What little plan?” I let the sheet drop so the nighty peeked out over the top. “I don’t see a plan here.”
Anthony reached over and wrapped the sheet so tightly I morphed into a Lacey burrito. “Start talking.”
“How much did Alessandra tell you?”
“She told me you bowled a twenty-one.”
“High score on the team.”
“I wish I could say I was proud of you...” Anthony trailed off. “But that’s still a twenty-one.”
“Baby steps. Anyway, that’s the highlight of the day. Moving on—”
“Let me guess. You pestered The Zebra for so long that your entire bowling team is worried he’s after them,” Anthony said. “And Clay’s terrified, too, which is why he’s on the couch with his robot.”
“I was careful! It wasn’t supposed to end like that. Everything was going fine until Alessandra pulled out the stupid gun.”
“Alessandra pulled a gun?” Anthony’s eyes flashed. “She didn’t mention that.”
“Whoops.”
“Feel free to expand on it.”
“Nah,” I said, wrinkling my nose. “You’d be bored; it’s girl stuff.”
Anthony blinked. He fell into silence and stared straight ahead. “Girl stuff?”
“She and Beckett were in a relationship. When she got wind that The Zebra might be responsible for his death, she got a little uptight.”
“A little uptight?”
“You know how it goes,” I said. “The gun wasn’t real.”
Anthony didn’t look convinced.
“Don’t think about it too hard. It’s not logical; it was her emotions talking,” I explained. “The man all but admitted to killing Beckett—I can’t say she reacted correctly, but I also can’t say that I blame her for it, either.”