Absinthe Minded: A Mafia Romantic Comedy (Bourbon Street Bad Boys' Club Book 1)

by Kathryn M. Hearst

  “Are you?”

  “We’ve already covered this. Water under the table. Bridge. I mean water under the table, and I can still drink you under the bridge.” I turned too fast and teetered, only to be caught around the middle by his strong arms. Pressed against his muscular chest, I glanced up a split second before his lips came down on mine.

  Unlike the quick exchanges I’d shared with Justin, Gabe kissed me like a man with a PhD in seduction. He cupped my face and invaded my mouth. My defenses crumpled, along with my knees. A sound of surrender escaped me. But rather than claiming victory—Gabe retreated.

  “Something wrong?” I whispered, holding the counter for support.

  “I’m beat.” Gabe’s hand brushed over my hip.

  I wanted to kiss him again or hold him or invite him to my room. On the other hand, I wanted to throat punch him and toss him out of my house. I couldn’t go down this road with him again. I wouldn’t survive it.

  As if he’d read my mind, Gabe frowned and ran his over the back of his neck. “Good night, Maggie.”

  “Good night.”

  Drunk and exhausted, I should have fallen asleep the moment I closed my eyes. Instead, I stared at the ceiling and tried to think about anything but the man in the room across the hall.

  9

  Gabe

  Fire shot close enough to my hand to singe the hair on my knuckles. Cursing, I grabbed the tongs and moved the steaks away from the flare up. No matter what I did, I couldn’t put out the flames.

  “Son of a bitch.” I eased back from the fire. “Hey Leo, I could use a spray bottle out here.”

  “Don’t use water. It’ll extinguish the coals or get ash on the meat.” My brother pushed me out of the way and placed the cover on the grill.

  “I’ve never had a problem with it before.”

  He smirked. “Carbon seals in the juices. Don’t be afraid of a little fire.”

  “I can handle the heat.” I downed half my beer.

  My mother would probably call it a sin, but Leo was my favorite brother. Joe, the eldest and the golden child, had treated me more like an underling than an equal. Leo, born ten months after me, was more like a best friend than a sibling. I trusted him to give it to me straight.

  “You look like shit.” He opened the grill to check on the steaks.

  I glanced over his rooftop patio. He lived in quintessential French Quarter apartment, an old mansion that was later turned into a multifamily home. I envied his rooftop oasis, but I had almost twice the square footage. “Have you spoken to Ma?”

  “She called the other day. Something about a family dinner.”

  “Figures.” I made a mental note to speak with the rest of my brothers soon, or I’d have to face them as a group. The three of them, plus my parents, would be a verbal blood bath.

  “You gonna tell me or do I have to call Ma?”

  “Could you keep an eye on the steaks? I need another beer for this.” I shook my empty bottle.

  “Uh uh, bro. Spill it.”

  I looked him square in the eye. “I have a kid.”

  He froze for a couple of seconds and laughed. “Holy shit, man. Congrats, but you know they make condoms to prevent this sort of thing.”

  “As it turns out, condoms are only ninety-nine percent effective.”

  Leo plopped down on a lounge chair. “What are you going to do with a kid?”

  “Raise her.” I turned back to the grill, but my thoughts drifted to Maggie. I should call to let her know I’ll be late.

  “Not for nothing, but do you even know how to change a diaper?” Leo shuddered.

  “Yeah, smart ass, I do.” Never mind that a thirteen year old had taught me how.

  “How often do you see her?” He’d spoken as if from experience but turned his attention to the rooftops of the French Quarter.

  I nudged his shoulder. “Something you want to tell me?”

  Leo startled, but tried to cover it with a dumbass smile. “Don’t put your shit on me. This is all you.”

  Right. “Ella lives with me.”

  “Where’s her mother?” He cocked his head. “Who’s her mother?”

  “She works on a cruise ship…” I told him the rest of the story while I pulled the steaks off the grill, but I left out one tiny detail—Chantal’s name. I needed to get through the I-have-a-kid part before I dropped another bomb on him.

  “Jesus, Gabe. Is she coming back?”

  “Don’t know. Don’t care. I’m going for full custody. Besides abandoning her child, she’s nuts. Lucky for me, I’d ended it before things got too serious.”

  “Not soon enough.” He stood and walked to the table.

  “The timing could be better, and the circumstances suck, but I don’t regret having a kid.”

  “Yeah, I get that.” His voice cracked.

  What’s up with him? I took a seat and unwrapped my baked potato. “Sure, you don’t have anything you want to tell me?”

  “I’m good.” He picked at his salad. “Where’s the little bundle of joy?”

  “Maggie’s watching her tonight.” My stomach twisted. I’d finally come to the subject I needed to discuss.

  “Maggie. As in Rebecca’s sister, Maggie?”

  “The one and only.”

  “Shit, Gabe. I thought Pops told us to stay away from Joe’s kids.”

  “It’s been a year. Nothing’s happened.” I shoved a piece of steak into my mouth, chewed, and took a swig of beer. “Besides, you and I both know Pop’s prime suspect had an iron-clad alibi…”

  Leo furrowed his brow and glanced away. The moment he put it all together, his mouth fell open. “For fuck’s sake, tell me the mother of your kid isn’t Chantal DuBois.”

  “Guilty.”

  He dragged his hand down his face. “Jesus, does Pops know?”

  “No, and I’d like to keep it that way for now.” Forever if I can help it.

  My father wouldn’t need to worry about lung cancer. He’d drop dead of a coronary if he knew I’d slept with the person he suspected of causing my brother’s accident.

  “Do you think she got knocked up on purpose?” He pegged me with a glare.

  “Hell if I know. I mean, I suited up every time.”

  “Accidents happen, I guess. Where does Maggie fit into this?” Leo consumed his meal like he hadn’t seen food in weeks.

  “I’m going to marry her.”

  He choked on his potato.

  I pushed my plate to the side and set my elbows on the table. “It was that, move home, or lose my bar.”

  “I need something stronger before we get into this.” Leo finished his beer, went inside, and returned with a bottle of Jack and two glasses. “A little birdie told me you’re planning to take over for Pops.”

  A little birdie named Enzo. Three years younger, Enzo made it his life’s goal to know everyone’s business.

  “It’s not as if I have a choice. Pops isn’t doing well.”

  Leo poured two shots. “I’d like to believe we all have a choice, but I know better.”

  I downed the whiskey. “I’ll learn the ropes, do what I have to, and get all of us out as soon as I can.”

  “And if you can’t?”

  “I can.” I poured myself another and stared into the amber liquid. The Marchionni family had been tied to the Cosa Nostra since the 1800s, but the internet, more savvy investigation techniques, and RICO laws made organized crime even riskier. Thankfully, the majority of our wealth came from legitimate business ventures nowadays. We could stand on our own. The question was—would the other families allow it?

  “Gabe, not for nothin’ but you don’t have anything to prove. Joe’s dead. The rivalry’s over. No good will come from trying to fill his shoes.”

  His words stung like rubbing alcohol on road rash. “That’s not what this is about. Joe was good with the status quo. I’m not. Fuck the sins of our father, we’re going legit.”

  “I’m behind you one hundred percent on that.” He fu
rrowed his brow and took another bite of steak.

  “You got something else you want to say?” I half-expected him to bring up more psychobabble bullshit about needing mommy and daddy’s approval.

  “Are you sure about this thing with Maggie?”

  “I love her. Always have.” The words rolled off my tongue without hesitation.

  “No shit. But last time I checked, she wanted your head on a pike. How’d you get her to agree to marry you?”

  I knocked back my second shot. “I haven’t asked her yet.”

  Leo rubbed his forehead, a habit he shared with my father, and a sure sign I’d lost him.

  “I will, but I have to tell her why I broke things off the first time around. She needs to know what she’s walking into.” And I have to convince her she’s still in love with me.

  “You mean tell her about the business.” He set his fork down.

  “Yep.”

  “Bad idea.” He pressed his hand to his gut. “Rebecca changed once she found out. To hear Ma tell it, her post-partem depression had more to do with Joe coming clean than hormones.”

  I folded my arms. I’d heard my mother’s side of the story, but I’d also spent time with Joe’s wife. She’d known the truth long before her youngest son was born. “That’s bullshit.”

  “It’s been years since you and Maggie broke up. How well do you know her now? What makes you think she won’t run to the cops? Or worse, write a story about it in the Picayune?”

  “Good point.” I doubted she’d go to the police, but I hadn’t considered the paper. “But she deserves to know the truth. Even if she throws me out on my ass, she’s raising the next generation of Marchionni men. Sooner or later, the business will touch them.”

  “Unless you get us out free and clear.”

  “Free and clear’s a long shot. I’ll settle for legit without bloodshed.”

  10

  Maggie

  Children’s laughter and the scent of fresh baked cookies filled the house, but nothing cheered me up. Though I couldn’t put my finger on what had me in such a foul mood, all signs pointed to Gabe Marchionni.

  I struggled to focus on the Bourbon Street Bad Boys Club proposal I’d drafted for Marlena. It wasn’t my best work. It reeked of passive aggression as if I’d taken all of my frustrations with Gabe, his family, and life in general and wrapped them up in one tidy document. I held my breath and hit send on the email.

  In the week since Gabe had arrived, he’d worked nights at the bar and days with his father. At least that’s what he told me. He could have been anywhere with anyone, and I’d never be the wiser. Not that it’s any of my business.

  Our kiss haunted me day and night. I’d tried to blame my response on the whiskey, but it was a lie. I’d wanted it. I’d wanted him.

  My phone rang. The name and number on the screen caused my pulse to race. I’d only sent the proposal a few minutes ago. Marlena either loved or hated it. I pressed answer.

  My boss’s voice boomed through the connection before I had a chance to say hello. “Maggie, I swear on the life of my Christian Louboutins, you have outdone yourself!”

  “I’m glad you liked it.” I hurried out the back door. On the off-chance Gabe had woken, I didn’t want him to overhear the conversation. “Is there anything you want changed?”

  “Not a thing, darling. Get me what you’ve outlined, and I’ll find a place for you on staff. Telecommuting of course, with a raise and benefits. Whatever you want, just get the story.”

  I’d waited a year to hear her say those words. A regular paycheck and health insurance would solve a lot of my problems, but the articles could cause a whole lot more. No. Screw my guilty conscience. I can do this. “I’ve already started working on it.”

  “Good to hear. I’d like to run the first article the day of the Mardi Gras Gala. Can you pull it together by then?”

  Three weeks? Is she kidding? “That shouldn’t be a problem.”

  “Perfect. Keep me posted. I’m counting on you.” Marlena disconnected the call.

  I hung my head and went inside. On days like this I self-medicated with carbs—homemade carbs filled with chocolate. I’d already eaten half a dozen cookies, but after the call, I ate three more.

  My stomach churned. The sugar hadn’t eased my stress. In short, I still felt like crap. To atone for my food sins and save my waistline, I resorted to angry cleaning. Nothing like taking your frustrations out on the carpet.

  I ran the vacuum down the hall, banging it into the master bedroom door a couple of times before moving on. Oh, so sorry, sir. Did I wake you?

  “Maggie?” Gabe called over the noise.

  Ignoring him, I turned the corner and redid the living room floor.

  “Maggie?”

  The vacuum went dead.

  Oh no he did not! I rounded on him with my hands on my hips. “What?”

  Still holding the cord, he frowned. “Would you mind doing that later?”

  I smirked and let my gaze travel from his face to his bare feet and up again. “You look like ten pounds of shit in a five-pound bag.”

  “I feel like it.”

  “Your hangover isn’t my concern. I have to clean the house this morning.”

  Gabe shook his head and walked into the kitchen.

  Realizing he wasn’t going to plug the vacuum back into the wall, I huffed and followed him. “Look. If you’re going to stay here, we need to lay down some ground rules.”

  “Like not running the vacuum before ten?” He stuffed a cookie into his mouth.

  “Like from this point forward we’re friends, which means hands off.” I had no idea why I’d said that, but my heart broke a little.

  “Friends, got it.” He ate two more cookies.

  I pulled the plate away from him. “There are kids in the house. They hear and see everything. You’re an adult, if you want to eat cookies for breakfast that’s your business, but it isn’t setting a good example.”

  “I’ll be the model of a responsible adult.” He stuck his head in the fridge, pulled out the milk, and took a swig from the carton.

  I made a sound in the back of my throat and balled my fists.

  He took one look at me and laughed, spitting a mouthful of milk into the sink. “Relax, Mags. I’m the only person in the house that drinks regular milk.”

  “You’re trying to piss me off.” I closed my eyes and counted to ten.

  “Not really, but it’s so damned easy.” He chuckled and put the milk away.

  “You shouldn’t cuss either.”

  His brows rose. “Pot calling the kettle black on that one?”

  I pinched the bridge of my nose. “I’m serious.”

  “I got it—no touching, no drinking from the milk carton, no cookies for breakfast, no potty mouth. Anything else?”

  “Yes. You don’t need to ask my permission to go out, but I’d appreciate knowing when you’re leaving and about when you’ll be back. I planned dinner last night, and you didn’t come home before going to the bar. I had Ella all day.”

  “I told you it would be a long one. Asked if you wanted me to take her to my folks.”

  “I know, and I appreciate it. Still, a phone call would have been nice.”

  “Any more rules?”

  “Don’t bring women here.” I regretted it as soon as I’d said it.

  The humor faded from his eyes. “Got it.”

  I’d crossed a line. He was a player, but he knew better than to bring the game near the kids. “Now that’s settled, can I get you some breakfast?”

  I used food like an olive branch. Hopefully, an omelet would make him forget all about my crankiness.

  “No, I’m good.” Gabe held the coffee cup with two hands with his shoulder slumped forward as if trying to garner every ounce of warmth from the mug.

  I moved closer. “The sitter’s coming tonight. I made plans last week.”

  “I’m off tonight. I can watch the kids, unless you’re worried I’ll corrupt
them. You know, cookies for dinner with chasers from the carton.”

  “Are you sure you’ll be up for it? You look rough.” I set my hand on his forehead.

  He pulled away. “I’ll be fine once I get some sleep.”

  “Sorry. I’ll try to keep it down in the mornings until you get into a normal routine.”

  “Going on another internet date?”

  “Girls’ night with Shanna, if you must know." I refilled his coffee.

  “Thanks.” He hunched over his cup again. “Like I said, I can handle the kids.”

  “I’ll cancel the sitter.” I left to put the vacuum away. Try as I might, I couldn’t figure out why I let him get under my skin. Then again, I’d become rather adept at lying to myself.

  I wandered into my room for a moment’s peace and to get as far away from him as possible. As soon as I sat, the doorbell rang, the dog started barking, and the kids came down the stairs like a herd of elephants. By the time I’d returned to the front room, Chloe had opened the door and had ushered my mother into the house.

  “Mimi!” Ryan launched himself at his grandmother.

  “Mom?” Wondering where Gabe had gone, I glanced toward the kitchen.

  No matter how temporary the situation, or the circumstances, my mother would not approve of me shacking up with a man.

  She hugged the kids and gave the dog a quick pat, all while surveying the house. By the time she got to me, her smile had faded. She smoothed her designer jacket and patted her perfectly coifed hair. “Mary Margaret.”

  My heart sank along with my mother’s smile. The house was as clean as it was ever going to be, but it would never be enough—I would never be enough.

  “So good to see you.” I gave her a half hug and locked eyes with Gabe, who’d chosen that moment to step into the room.

  “Who’re you?” My mother tilted her head as if trying to place the face.

  I’d managed to keep my previous relationship with Gabe from my mom, mostly because she never asked. However, she had met Gabe at least twice, once at Rebecca’s wedding and again at her funeral. Both occasions had been emotional days for all involved, but I’d bet my right arm my mother had recognized him.