0.5 Scooped

by Gina LaManna

  “Here we go.” Meg started walking to a maintenance closet, except when she opened the door, it led to a small alley.

  “Meg, where are you going?”

  “Huh?” She gave me an extremely pleased smile as she showed off her latest conquest. It was a vehicle that sank under her size, but nonetheless roared to life after a bit of coaxing with a freshly plucked bobby pin.

  “That’s a beautiful ride, there.” I could feel a smile creeping onto my face. “We can’t get arrested for this?”

  “Well maybe, but we’ll pretend we can’t. Anyway, it’s less than a felony, probably.”

  “Probably?”

  “Who knows? We won’t get caught… we’ll return it in just one hour.”

  “That’s what you said last time.”

  “Yeah, well, crap happened.”

  “But—”

  “Are you going to get on this hog or not?” Meg patted the backseat of the golf cart that was slowly creeping forward. “’Cause I ain’t got cash for a cab on me, and I’m not hauling my ass home on a tricycle.”

  I hopped on behind her. “We will have covered every method of transporta-ahh!” I screamed as Meg floored the gas and brought us right out onto the shoulder of the highway.

  “Meg! Side streets. Take. Them.”

  “Nah.”

  And that was the end of that discussion.

  ** **

  About thirty extremely windy minutes later, we rolled into a residential section of town I’d never been to before. I couldn’t see any houses, but I imagined they were hidden away behind the tree-lined driveways and sprawling estates.

  “Who lives out here? These people have some serious cash.” My head was on a constant swivel, looking for other forms of life.

  “These people are your family,” Meg said. “Your grandfather owns about a million bajillion acres over here.”

  “Oh.”

  “Yeah. We tend to leave this area alone.” Meg slowed the golf cart down to a crawl. “Anyway, around this corner you’ll find the house. I’ll drop you here.” She nodded. “You go take a peek. I’ll give you one minute, then I’m gonna cruise by very slowly. You have the option to jump on this beauty, and we hightail our asses out of here, which frankly is the smart thing to do. Or you can choose the dumb thing, and not jump on.”

  “Okay,” I said, my breath becoming harder and harder to swallow with each heave of my chest. “Okay.”

  Meg pinched my butt so hard right then that I had no option except to leap right off that golf cart and skid to a stop in front of the largest gate I’d ever encountered. The edges of the metal black fence were as pointy as toothpicks but about a million times as large and made out of deadly-looking steel. There was a man guarding the entrance in a small booth, and I could see one or two men patrolling down the long, twisty driveway.

  But at the end of the driveway was the largest surprise yet. And by large, I mean humongous. It was an estate bigger than the Coliseum. Not that I’d ever seen the Coliseum, but how I imagined it in my mind.

  “Ma’am?” an accented voice asked.

  “Yah?” I said, feeling a little dumb. I turned towards the voice.

  In the background, Meg hit the gas pedal on the golf cart and rolled forward, ever so slowly. She gave me the thumbs up sign and cruised off at the pace of a snail.

  I then realized the man with the accented voice was approaching me with hesitation. And, he had a gun. He stopped next to me, and together we watched Meg sail on by. She alternately made evil expressions at the man and kissy faces at me. Or maybe it was the reverse, I couldn’t be sure.

  “What you want?” The man turned to me and fingered his gun as Meg crept out of sight around the corner.

  I was distracted, hoping Meg hadn’t completely left me stranded. Hopefully she was just off to get a piece of Dairy Queen cake before heading right back here.

  “Uh…”

  “It’s okay, I’ll take her.” A mind-bogglingly fit man appeared to the left of the guard manning the gate.

  All of the sudden, a whirring noise startled the first guard, who twitched and pointed his gun straight ahead at the sound.

  However, a second later, Meg appeared, reversing so painfully slowly I thought she might start rolling forward. She had eyes only for the newcomer, and I noticed she’d perked up her chest and plumped her peacock feathers. The kissy faces were now directed at one person, and it was the tall, thickly-built man who looked as if he was as confused as I’d be if asked to speak Latin.

  “Come with me.” The newcomer gestured for me to follow him, simultaneously waving off the other guard.

  “Me only? What about her?” I gestured towards Meg.

  “Peacocks are not allowed in the estate.”

  “Oh, uh. Okay. But she’s my friend.”

  The man’s cheek clenched. “She can wait outside. Are you coming?”

  “Oh, yes. Okay.” I followed him in, waving to Meg as she licked her lips in the background. Nothing like a great first impression. Especially when finding my family for the first time. What if I was related to this guy?

  The walk down the driveway was long and tedious. It seemed the Greek God next to me only spoke when it was absolutely necessary. He remained silent all the way to the front door.

  “What do you want?” He turned to me, his gaze curious as he spoke. It was the first sign of any emotion I’d seen from him.

  “I think I might be a relative of the Luzzi family,” I said. “I guess, well, I guess I needed to know for sure after my mom died.”

  With one brief nod, the door was opened by an ancient butler.

  “Hello, dahling,” the butler said in a thick English accent. “I’m Harold, may I take your coat?”

  “Uh… no, thank you?” I couldn’t help the question in my voice. I didn’t know who these people were but they were rich. Out of this world rich.

  I couldn’t help but wonder why, if my mother came from this sort of wealth, she chose to run off and live for pennies while wiggling her booty for strange men.

  “Nice house,” I said.

  Harold’s face turned up in an odd smirk. “House… yes, indeed. That is one word for it.”

  “A better word, the one you’re looking for, I believe, is fortress.” It was my dreamy guide, jumping back into the conversation.

  “Who are you?” I asked.

  The handsome man looked away. His lean figure was outlined in an all-black uniform. He moved easily, and I was pretty sure his spirit animal was a jaguar. But there was a danger about him that made me hesitate in getting too close to him. Even though he smelled delicious.

  He turned back to look at me. “I don’t know why he asked to see you, but he’s waiting for you in the kitchen.”

  The man led me through an entryway as big as a ballroom with what looked like stained glass windows stolen straight from the Vatican. I almost made a joke about whether the Pope was missing his artwork, but I had an odd sensation that stealing expensive artwork was not out of the realm of possibility for my new family.

  Potential family, I reminded myself. There was a small part inside of me hoping that they would be my family. Because if they weren’t, then I’d still be all alone. And something was better than nothing, right?

  “Keep up, please,” he said, as I stopped to stare at a sculpture I thought might be the one and only David.

  “Yokay,” I said, hustling forward. I didn’t want them to think I was checking out the junk on this statue, too. Once was enough for today.

  The next hallway was a mishmash of pictures: a few mugshots, one or two participation medals for children’s sports, and a Wanted poster for someone with the last name LUZZI.

  I briefly wondered what I was getting into, but I’d come so far, I had to finish the task. I had to see if there was actually a light at the end of the tunnel. “Did you have anything to do with all of the black cars in the cities today, by chance?” I asked.

  The guard’s mouth became a thin line,
and he gestured towards the door in front of me. His non-answer said plenty.

  I had a feeling that the answers to most of my questions were waiting on the other side of the swinging wooden door.

  Mr. Guard told me to wait in the hallway. I squirmed impatiently as he stepped inside the room. Low voices murmured back and forth, but I couldn’t understand the words. I wasn’t sure if it was English or another language, the sounds were so muffled.

  Then, the same man stepped out. “So, you found us, you must have some smarts. Did you plan to trick the guards into thinking you were no threat?”

  “No threat?” I asked, a little confused.

  “The mistakes you made were on purpose?”

  “Oh, yeah. Of course.” I nodded, hopefully with a firm expression that I, of course, planned all of my ditzy moments ahead of time, in a devious plan to throw off the scent for the bad guys tracking me.

  “Because of this, you are allowed to meet Carlos. He will explain the… situation.”

  “Any advice on the sort of situation this is?”

  “One involving your family,” he said, taking a few steps away and gesturing for me to enter.

  I looked into his deep, Ghirardelli-colored eyes, and lifted my chin. “The way you say family, I feel as if it has a capital ‘F’.”

  The guard raised an eyebrow, and for the first time, a hint of surprise crossed his face. His gaze suddenly suggested I might not be as dumb as his first impression told him.

  This time when he spoke, his voice even had a gentle edge to it. “Go on in. It’s okay.”

  He extended his smooth hand and gave mine a long, firm shake. I didn’t want him to let go, but he had no such problem. He gave me a subtle nudge towards the swinging door.

  I took a deep breath and tried to calm my nerves. Then I pushed open the heavy, mahogany door and stepped inside.

  A pair of curious, inquisitive eyes met my gaze. Where the guard’s gaze had held a bit of compassion and some sexy intrigue, these eyes were sharp and crisp and intelligent. He was a powerful, dangerous man – that much was immediately apparent. From the salt and peppered hair to the perfectly tailored suit and the shoes that shined like a spiffy apple, he was the picture of influence.

  At the same time, there was no doubt in my mind that the man behind the eyes was related to my mother.

  He seemed to agree after a quick assessment. “Yes,” he said. “A Luzzi, you are. You look exactly like your mother. Welcome to the Family.”

  THE END

  For a Sample of Book 1 – Lacey Luzzi: Sprinkled… read on.

  Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed the story, please consider leaving a review on Amazon. I appreciate every single one, and the reviews really do help us indie authors out!

  ** **

  Free Review Copies Available:

  If you’re just finding my books and reading the prequel first – I offer review copies for interested readers.

  Simply send me a link to your honest review on Amazon or Goodreads, and I’ll provide you with a gifted copy of the next book in the series.

  Thank you for reading.

  Gina

  ** **

  Synopsis:

  Lacey Luzzi’s roller coaster of a life has been filled with the highest of highs and the lowest of lows. She just never expected the lows to be so… sparkly.

  After falling on her face during an attempt to follow in her recently deceased mother’s stripper-boots, Lacey realizes she’s not cut out for life on stage. She sets out on a year-long investigation to find her true family, never expecting she’ll find it…with a capital “F.”

  With a rumbling stomach, a need for money (check engine lights don’t fix themselves!), and a conscience that operates at 78% on a good day, Lacey is sucked into a whirlwind of family secrets, hard-as-cement cookies, and mysterious, sexy men who unfortunately shoot guns, sometimes aimed at her face. The long-lost granddaughter of Carlos Luzzi, the Godfather of the Italian Mafia, Lacey accepts her first assignment for the mob: finding fifteen million dollars of “the good stuff.”

  Even after she enlists the help of her mouthy best friend and her cousin, a technical genius and social disaster, she finds that going toe-to-toe with the rival Russian mob is more dangerous than expected.

  No one chooses their families, but Lacey Luzzi will be lucky if she can survive hers.

  Lacey Luzzi: Sprinkled, is a full length, laugh-out-loud, humorous cozy mystery with a strong female protagonist in the spirit of Janet Evanovich’s Stephanie Plum, albeit one working for the wrong side of the law…

  ** **

  Prologue

  LACEY LUZZI RESUME:

  CURRENT: MOBSTER (in training)

  2 YEARS: LAUNDROMAT WENCH

  TOO MANY YEARS: MANAGER AT STRIP CLUB

  1 NIGHT: MISERABLY FAILED STRIPPER

  8TH GRADE – SPELLING BEE CHAMPION

  Chapter 1

  I’ve never thought of myself as a particularly good person. I also wouldn’t have said I was a particularly bad person – at least not until two years ago, when I sold my soul for a new car.

  Okay, “new” was a stretch. My little Kia was more than three and less than twenty years old, the check engine light blinked at me an average of six times a month, and the alignment was twisted so far right I kept my wheel spun halfway left in order to drive straight.

  But it was mine.

  And I loved my car. I still do, two years later, just a little bit less than before – and that’s because I now understood what I’d sacrificed in order to afford a pretty crappy car. And it was all because I’d accepted a job with my grandfather, the Don of the Italian Mafia.

  ** **

  See, I’m the long-lost granddaughter of the St. Paul mob boss, Carlos Luzzi. Meaning, my grandparents didn’t know I existed for the first twenty-six of my life. Carlos got his start in America after immigrating with his wife, Nora, straight from the boot that was Italy. To say the pair had been slightly more than shocked when they found me standing on their doorstep two years ago, claiming I had Luzzi blood, would be depressingly accurate.

  And ever since that first “buon giorno,” I’d been sucked into a whirlwind of twisted secrets, Family history, and Sunday afternoon dinners – where the cookies were inedible and the servings fit for a soccer team of giants.

  Growing up, I’d never understood why my mother had told me night after night that she didn’t have any family. She’d been a single mom, a wonderful one. So when she died three years ago, I couldn’t bear the thought that I’d be her only living relative at the funeral. As I stood next to her closest friends at the gravesite – Candy, Aurora and Cinnamon, the girls she worked with at TANGO – I vowed that I’d hunt down her family and find out why they’d abandoned my sweet, gentle mother, who ironically used the stage name Honey.

  Though she worked as a stripper Wednesday through Sunday nights, nine p.m. to closing, I couldn’t have asked for a better woman to call mom. Her hair was soft and blond, with long curls that danced down her back as she tucked me into bed before work. Her voice was lilting and light, reminding me of a dandelion gone to seed, the puffy wisps drifting away in the wind. When I asked her why she had a job where they made her work late all the time, she said, “Sugar, because there’s no paper trail with my job.”

  This lack of paper trail, I soon discovered, was meant to keep her identity secret, so her family couldn’t track her down after she’d run away. Naturally, I set out to do some digging and searching (and investigating and stalking) and found a whole closetful of secrets about my mother’s past…and mine.

  And it became blindingly clear why my mother had kept her lips sealed. After a year of sleuthing, I’d found my Family. I’d just never guessed I’d be standing at the doorsteps of a gated estate, referring to my Family with a capital F.

  Sometimes, I wanted to kick all of the Family secrets I’d learned over the past few years back into the closet my mother had built around me as a child. Then I’d slam the
door shut, lock and deadbolt it, cover it in gasoline, and leave a match burning on my way out the front gate.

  This was one of those moments. Carlos had given me my first gig for the Family, and it was time to do or die.

  ** **

  I’d never expected to die while standing knee deep in garbage, hiding for my life in a dumpster. The rusty blue walls felt a bit claustrophobic, and the space was made even tighter, due to the presence of my best friend, who was currently keeping watch over a man wriggling uncomfortably on the floor.

  “I’ve got it all figured out. I want to be the boobs of this operation. You can be the brains.” Meg shifted her industrial-sized knockers into a push up bra that could’ve supported two watermelons. Ex-cop and current bar owner, she’d also held the title of “My Best Friend” since kindergarten. Whether that was an honor or a curse – for either of us – I was never quite sure.

  “Meg, be serious. This is a test. My entire career depends on it.”

  Not to mention my life.

  And the lives of a few others. I glanced uneasily at the ground, where the strange man growled through the gag over his mouth.

  “I am serious,” she said. “I even wore my extra supportive sports bra today so’s I could run, and jump, and hide, and shit. Well, maybe just the hide part, since if I start jumping somebody’s probably gonna get knocked out by these puppies. And it might be him.” Meg glared at the man. “What are you staring at?”

  She addressed the figure sitting on the ground next to us. Actually, sitting would be an overstatement. He maybe had tape over his mouth. And he maybe wasn’t willingly on the ground, wriggling next to us. And maybe it was our fault he was tied to one of the garbage bags with a clever combination of a broom, a basketball hoop and a sock that we’d found in the garbage.

  “Shhh,” I hissed. “You need to duck. Your hair is sticking up.”

  “That’s okay, it’s camouflage. It’s like a bush,” Meg said. “Especially since this dumpster has so much crap in it that I bet a whole forest of bushes could grow here. ‘Cept those suckers would need to be real tough to survive; kind of like a cactus. I think I see some ketchup on your ass – at least I think that’s ketchup. And that squiggly stuff on your boot is maybe sauerkraut, or maybe something worse, the judge is TBD on that one.”