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

by Kathryn M. Hearst

  I moved from behind the bar and rested my hand on his arm. “Please.”

  He nodded once and pushed to his feet. Any remaining warmth bled from his eyes. He squared his shoulders, stiffened his spine, and raised his chin. Heck, he even walked differently. Had I not witnessed the change in him, I would have thought the laughing guy and the detective were two different people.

  The new version scared the crap out of me. I didn’t know if I wanted to ask the questions, let alone hear the answers, but I followed him outside.

  Wayne folded his arms and settled the weight of his stare on me. “What can I do for you?”

  I debated beating around the bush but decided to get straight to it. “Do you believe my sister’s death was an accident?”

  He drew a deep breath and exhaled with a faint wheeze. “That’s what the final report says.”

  “That’s not what I asked you.” I decided to try a different tactic. I lowered my gaze, slumped my shoulders, and softened my voice. “Please, I need to know. I’m about to marry into this family. I have to know if the kids and I are in danger.”

  “You have kids?” His voice rose in volume and pitch. I’d evidently hit a nerve.

  Fidgeting with my hands, I nodded. “I have custody of Joe and Rebecca’s three.”

  Wayne sucked air through his teeth, looked up at the sky, and cursed under his breath. “Is it true Gabe’s taking over for Papa Joe?”

  I nodded because I didn’t trust my voice to come out normal. I’d gone from playing a victim to feeling like one.

  “The Marchionnis have a way of pissing off people. I don’t think there’s imminent danger but caution never hurt anyone.”

  “People like Martin Sinclair?”

  Wayne’s eyes grew larger before he could sink back behind his detective mask.

  “Did he have anything to do with what happened to my sister?”

  “Martin Sinclair died before the collision.”

  “What about his wife? Was she questioned?”

  “I’m not at liberty to say.” Wayne motioned to me. “You’re good. Batted those lashes and I fell for it.”

  I shrugged one shoulder. “Wouldn’t you do whatever you had to do to protect the people you love?”

  Oddly enough, he glanced back toward the bar. “Yeah. I would.”

  “I’ll ask you again, do you think it was an accident?”

  He turned back to me. “My gut tells me no, but my superiors put a hell of a lot of pressure on us to close the case.”

  I’d read as much in the report, but I appreciated his honesty. “Did Papa Joe pressure the department?”

  He blew out a breath. “You’re killing me. Let’s just say, pressure comes from all sides in high profile cases.”

  My head spun. I felt like I’d walked into made for television melodrama. “Are they mafia?”

  “Honey, if you have to ask me that, you shouldn’t marry Gabe.”

  I hugged myself and bent forward a few inches. It’d all happened so fast. I loved him, but was that enough?

  Wayne laid his hand on my shoulder. “Don’t fall apart on me now.”

  Am I raising the next generation of mafia? Am I engaged to the next freaking Godfather? I righted myself and met his gaze. “I’m afraid of what I don’t know.”

  Wayne glanced up the street and lowered his voice again. “What they call themselves doesn’t matter. You don’t get the level of power and influence the Marchionnis have without pissing people off and breaking a few laws. Take my advice—leave the accident alone. Nothing good will come of poking around in this.”

  “Maybe you’re right.”

  His head remained still, but his gaze darted to the side.

  Unlike the detective, I turned and locked eyes with the guy in the leather jacket. I pressed my hand to my chest and took a step behind Wayne. “I think that man’s following me.”

  The detective nodded. “Wouldn’t surprise me. He’s on the Marchionni payroll. The question is, why are they having you tailed?”

  My grandmother used to have these seizures where she’d stare off into space, like she’d vacated her body. I had one of those right there in the middle of the French Quarter. One minute I was talking to Wayne, the next everything stopped. No sound, no sight, nothing except me and blinding fear.

  “Maggie?” the detective called to me, but he seemed a million miles away. “Miss Guthrie? Are you okay?”

  I snapped back into the present. “I need to get out of here.”

  “I’ll drive you home.” He narrowed his eyes at Mr. Leather Jacket.

  The guy held his arms up as if to say busted and walked away.

  “I can call a ride share.”

  “I’m not letting you out of my sight in your current state of mind.” Wayne led me back into the bar, said something to Jessie, and followed me to the office. “Maggie, listen. Gabe’s a good guy. Give him a chance to answer your questions before you go into hiding, but you have to ask him.”

  “I will.” I couldn’t help but wonder if he would have said the same thing if I’d told him my fiancé had a child with Martin Sinclair’s wife.

  27

  Gabe

  A vibration in my pants woke me. I eased Ella from my chest to the couch and pulled my phone from my pocket. “Hey, Leo, what’s up? How are the poodles?”

  “The dogs are fine. We have a different problem.” My brother’s voice came through along with music, chatter, and laughter.

  “One sec.” I scooted Ella away from the edge and put a throw pillow beside her to keep her in place. Dumb move, but I didn’t plan to go far. “What problem?”

  “There are several. One of the guys I put on Maggie was made tonight.”

  My stomach lurched. “How and by who?”

  “Wayne O’Malley, while he was having an emotional conversation with Maggie.”

  “What the fuck do you mean emotional?” I inhaled and exhaled to the count of five and slid into business mode. I could handle this if I treated it like any other work crisis. This involved an employee, not the woman I planned to marry.

  “Your girl was upset. Crying maybe.” He paused and made a sound suspiciously close to a laugh. “Come on, man. You didn’t think I meant they were together-together?”

  “Go on.” Some of the tension eased from my shoulders. The situation was bad, but it could have been worse. I wouldn’t end up in prison for killing the cop who put his hands on my woman.

  “Wayne told Jessie Maggie was sick, and he was driving her home. They left a couple of minutes ago.”

  That son of a bitch. Maybe I’d go to prison after all. “Anything else? Do you know what they discussed?”

  “No clue, but earlier tonight she asked me about you taking over the business.” The background noise quieted, but Leo kept his voice down. “What did you tell her about your job description?”

  “Not much, but she’s smart.” Smart enough to have a copy of the police records from Joe and Rebecca’s accident. “I’ll handle it.”

  “Touch base in the morning.”

  I disconnected the call. Depending on where the detective had parked, I figured I had ten, maybe fifteen minutes until Maggie arrived home. If I hustled, I could get a shower. The conversation would be hard enough without me smelling like chocolate-covered dog vomit.

  After settling Ella in her crib, I stripped and went into the bathroom.

  A car door shut out front. A few seconds later, I heard Maggie greeting Cocoa in the front of the house.

  I had two choices slide back into my filthy jeans or have the talk with Maggie naked. I chose option number two.

  After five minutes and no sign of her, I regretted my decision. Is she waiting for me to get out?

  She came into the bathroom at the exact moment I’d decided to go find her. “Hi. I really need to talk to you.”

  “I heard you come in.” I cracked open the shower door and gave her a quick once over. She still wore makeup, so probably not crying. She’d smiled a litt
le, so probably not pissed. Scratch that—she’d changed from her work clothes into a silky bathrobe. Definitely not pissed.

  “Sorry it took me so long. Ryan wanted water. Then I had to wait for him to pee, tuck him in again, and speak to Chloe about her dream about unicorns. This led to a debate on whether they would throw up rainbows or chocolate cake.”

  I covered my cringe with a laugh. “I can see your unicorn dream, and raise you talking to a teenaged boy about a girl.”

  Maggie dropped the robe, stepped into the shower, and wrapped her arms around me.

  My God, she’s gorgeous. I caressed her from her shoulders to her bare ass “You’re naked.”

  “I never shower with clothes on. What did Zach say? What girl?”

  “He has a crush on a tuba player named Sam. Wanted to know if I thought he should buy her roses for after the band concert.” I tilted her head under the water, grabbed the shampoo, and massaged it into her scalp.

  “What did you tell him?”

  “I told him to send her flowers at home. That way none of his knucklehead friends would tease him. If she shoots him down, it shouldn’t be in public.”

  “Good advice.” She closed her eyes and let the water sluice over her head.

  I angled her beneath the spray and rinsed her hair. “Thanks. Now, about you being in my shower…”

  “It’s my shower.” Maggie drew a shaky breath, and I knew she’d had enough small talk.

  I leaned down and brushed my lips across hers. “What did you want to talk about?”

  Maggie hung her head.

  “What is it?” I lifted her chin.

  “Why did your father insist Joe and Rebecca’s accident wasn’t an accident?”

  “A deal went bad. The owner made threats against Joe and my dad.”

  “Did they stop after the accident?” Maggie rested her hands on my chest.

  Be it her touch, or my need to come clean with her, I decided then and there to tell her everything. “The threats stopped before the accident because the guy offed himself.”

  Her hand flew to her mouth.

  I nodded and continued. “But Pops was still convinced it was the dead guy’s people. The cops couldn’t prove anything.”

  “Is that why you held back on me in court? You don’t think Papa Joe’s paranoid at all, do you?”

  “Paranoid, no. Cautious, yes.”

  Maggie shivered. “I talked to a detective tonight. Wayne O’Malley.”

  “I know him. Decent guy.”

  “He asked if I was related to Rebecca, and the conversation went from there.” She pulled back and looked into my eyes. “Should I be worried? I mean, will someone try to kill you or me and the kids? I’m getting all these threatening calls”

  “What?” A lightbulb came on in the back of my mind. “The prank calls?”

  “Do you think they could be coming from Chantal?”

  Her question hit me like a throat punch. My daughter’s mother harassed me via telephone, why not Maggie? “It’s a distinct possibility. I have people at Marchionni Corp who can trace them.”

  Nodding, she murmured, “They’re just calls, right?”

  I have no idea, but I intend to find out. I pulled her tighter and kissed the top of her head. “We deal with some interesting people, but you don’t need to worry. I had Leo put security on you.”

  Her mouth fell open. “It was you? Why?”

  “After the engagement announcement, I didn’t want to take any chances—”

  “My God, you scared the hell out of me. I thought your parents were having me tailed.” She smacked my arm.

  “Ow. Easy there, slugger.”

  “I don’t want people following me.”

  “Mags—”

  “We’ll talk about that later. I have more important questions right now.” She avoided making eye contact.

  It surprised me that she seemed more nervous than upset. What the hell does she know? “Wayne told you something else?”

  “No, not Wayne.” Maggie chewed her lower lip. “I did some checking up on Chantal.”

  I coughed from the second verbal throat punch in as many minutes. “Why?”

  “Because I’m worried about you and Ella. Did you know she was married?”

  Blindsided and more than a little pissed, I stepped out of the shower. “She’s widowed.”

  Maggie started to follow me out of the shower but stopped when I turned to face her. “Gabe, she—”

  “You had no business poking into this.”

  “I’m sorry, but I disagree. If you and that sweet little girl in there are going to be part of my life, I need to know what’s going on.” She dipped her chin.

  I needed a few minutes to calm the fuck down before I said something stupid. “Let’s finish this in your room. I don’t want to wake Ella.”

  “All right.”

  I checked on my daughter, pulled on a pair of PJ pants, and second-guessed myself from every angle. I needed to tell her about Chantal, but first I wanted to know what she’d found, where she’d dug it up, and why. Had Leo’s guy misread her signals, or was there something else going on with her and Wayne?

  I crawled into her bed and stared at the ceiling. If we had to argue, I preferred to do it horizontally.

  Maggie came into the room and stretched out beside me—in nothing except her robe. This woman knew how to surprise the shit out of me, piss me off, and turn me on all at the same time.

  She snuggled against my side. “Promise me you’ll file paperwork to establish legal paternity as soon as possible.”

  “It’s already in the works.” I kissed her forehead. “I put security on you because the situation with Chantal is getting out of hand.”

  “How so?” She propped herself up on her elbow.

  “She wants money before she signs the custody papers.”

  “There’s something you need to know.” She sucked in a breath. “Chantal was married to Martin Sinclair.”

  Tonight was a night of surprises, and I fucking hate surprises. “I know.”

  “Oh.” Maggie rolled to her back. “Of course, you knew.”

  “She’s not responsible for the accident.”

  “How do you know?” Her voice trembled.

  “Because I was with her that night.” I held my breath and waited for her to explode.

  “Your relationship with her… It’s in the past, right?”

  Boom. Another surprise. She didn’t lose her shit. “Yeah, of course.”

  “Then it isn’t any of my business. As long as you know the score, which you obviously do, and she isn’t a psychopath out to hurt my family… She isn’t, is she?”

  “Physically, no she’s not the type.”

  “Then why do I need security?” Maggie turned my head and forced me to look her in the eye.

  “She threatened to tell you about the situation with Martin and my family.” I’d chosen my words carefully. Chantal had implied more, and yes, I needed to tell Maggie about the family business, but she’d had enough to process for one night. We both had.

  “If she’s not a physical threat, I want you to call off the security guards. I don’t like the idea of people following me around.”

  “Done.”

  “Any word from the attorney about Justin Trudeau?”

  “After a conversation with Santiago, he’s decided it’s a bad idea to sue.”

  “Because his wife would find out he was seeing other people?”

  “Probably.” I nuzzled into her chest. “I’ll never let anything happen to you.”

  “I know, but—”

  “No buts and no more snooping.”

  “Gabe—”

  This time, I surprised her by pinning her to the bed and kissing her stupid.

  28

  Maggie

  While the conversation had gone better than I’d hoped, I still had questions—earth shattering questions. Despite what Wayne said, labels did matter. A shrewd businessman and a member of the mi
llennial version of the mafia were two entirely different things.

  Are you a mobster? Simple as that. Why can’t I spit out the words? Because if he tells me what I already know, I’ll have to do something about it. This’ll end, and I don’t want it to. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

  “Maggie, stop thinking and start kissing.” Gabe nipped my earlobe.

  Before I had a chance to do as he asked, he moved down and drew my nipple into his mouth. I must have gasped, because he met my eyes and ran his tongue over the hardened flesh.

  “Still thinking?” He flashed me a grin hot enough to melt my lingering doubts.

  “I can’t remember. Did I give you that file of receipts?”

  “Maggie…” Leaving a moist trail of kisses in his wake, Gabe worked his way down my body. “How about now?”

  “Uh huh. Thinking about the grocery list.”

  He settled between my thighs and buried his face between my legs. No teasing, no warning, no nothing except his tongue and lips and teeth.

  “Oh God.” I dug my heels into the mattress and raised my hips.

  He slid his hands under my butt and lifted my lower body from the bed. I had no choice but to give in. The position made it impossible for me to move.

  Gabe added fingers into the mix, and it took all my strength not to cry out. The man played my body like he played the guitar—practice and skill and passion. I closed my eyes and counted backward from ten. Somewhere between eight and seven, the orgasm crashed over me, but he wasn’t finished.

  “Stop. Stop. Stop. I can’t.” I twisted and turned until he let me go.

  Gabe slid out of his flannel pants and climbed up my body until his face hovered above mine. “Still want me to stop?”

  “No.” I slid my hand down his chest and wrapped my hand around his length. “I want this.”

  He growled and lowered his mouth to mine, but otherwise, remained still. While I felt as if I’d spontaneously combust, he seemed content to kiss me silly. The more I tried to speed things along, the more he teased.

  I curled my free hand in his long hair and tugged until he broke the kiss. “I need you inside me now.”