Lacey Luzzi: Seasoned: A humorous, cozy mystery! (Lacey Luzzi Mafia Mysteries Book 7)

by Gina LaManna

  I reached out to return the handshake, but retracted my hand as I heard a clatter. Looking to my right, I watched helplessly as Meg fell over. Just keeled right over in a dead faint.

  “Oh, no.” I ignored Mack’s hand, scrambling towards my friend. “Meg, are you okay? What happened?”

  Already, she was shaking herself awake and sitting up. “That man there is so handsome I thought, well, maybe I’m dreaming.” Meg shook her head. “So I held my breath to see, and then I forgot to let go. Guess I’m not dreaming, after all.”

  “Let’s get you up, get you home,” I said. “Sorry about that, everyone. Meg’s okay. Newsflash, folks, she’s not dreaming.”

  “Pubic Service Announcement,” Meg called. “I’m okay!”

  “Public!” My face flamed in embarrassment. “Meg, that’s not a good one to mess up, we’ve gone over that.”

  But as I turned around, Mr. Mack – the should-be movie star – threw his head back and laughed. A long, genuine sound that lightened the mood. “I like that,” he said. “Funny.”

  Meg’s face cracked into a grin as I helped her up.

  “Does that mean you’ll sign my butt?” she asked.

  “Ignore her,” I said. “Anyway, let’s get a move on. We should get some sleep for tomorrow. Let the champagne wear off, since we have a long day ahead of us.”

  “What a party pooper,” Meg said. “We’re in Hollywood, Lacey!”

  “There’s time to have fun later,” I said. “We’re on a business trip.”

  “Well, I’m going to leave you ladies and gents here,” Lizabeth said. “Harold and I have some catching up to do. Mack knows where to take you, where to drop you off – if you need anything, he is your resource.”

  “Anything?” Meg waggled her eyebrows.

  “We understand,” I said tightly. “Thank you for your hospitality. We’ll see you at lunch tomorrow, Miss Lizabeth.”

  “I need to talk to you for one second, first. In private.” Lizabeth grasped my hand, pulling me off to the side as Meg made small talk with Mack, and Clay watched the exchange with a complete lack of enthusiasm.

  “What is it?” I asked.

  “I just want to give you fair warning,” Lizabeth said. Her white hair had been coiffed to perfection, and I wondered if she’d had side-by-side salon appointments with Poopsie. “Mack isn’t what he seems.”

  I shook my head in confusion. “What do you mean?”

  “I can’t say any more than that. But he’s not what you think.”

  “What should I think?” I raised a hand, scratching my chin. “I only just met the guy. I don’t know anything about him.”

  “Well, he’s your driver,” Lizabeth said. “That’s for starters.”

  “But there’s more?”

  “I’m going to put it this way.” Lizabeth leaned in. “Harold and I were texting throughout the plane ride. When he told me that Anthony wasn’t making the trek, I wanted to make sure that you had resources available, if you know what I mean.”

  I squinted. “I’m not sure I know what you mean. I’m very taken with Anthony.”

  “Oh, Lacey, not those resources,” Lizabeth shook her head. “Though if you were single, I would try very hard to set you two up – it’d be nice to have a lady around the house with me, every now and again. As of now, it’s just me and Poopsie.”

  “Well, Anthony and I, we’re very happy.”

  “I know that, darling. You two make a perfect match. Mack is…he’s complicated.” She sighed. “I want to see him find a nice girl, but…”

  “I’m not understanding your point.”

  “Right, right, sorry.” Lizabeth flashed a smile. “I suppose I should worry about Mack’s single-ness later. For now, use him as you might use Anthony, in the professional sense of the word. He has certain, shall we say, skills.”

  “I think I’m understanding,” I said. “Mack maybe has a gun, and he just might know how to use it.”

  “Now we’re understanding each other,” Lizabeth said. “Like I said, Mack is complicated. You probably won’t get much information out of him, but feel free to try if you like.”

  “What do you mean, complicated?”

  “I just mean…” she drifted off, staring over my shoulder. I glanced back, noticing Harold making winky eyes at Lizabeth. The woman giggled, then turned back to me. “Sorry, I have to get going.”

  “But what about Mack?”

  “You can trust him two hundred and eighty percent,” Lizabeth said, already stepping past me. “I’d give the man my life, let alone trust him with it. Just don’t ask him too many questions, okay? And if you do, don’t expect answers.”

  I sighed. So much mystery, and I hadn’t even made it off the tarmac.

  As Harold ushered his date into the waiting limo, I looked to Goon 1 and Goon 2 of Lacey Luzzi Services – Meg drooling over Mack, and Clay drooling over Meg – and gave another sigh.

  “All right, wrap it up, team. Are we ready to go?” I walked between them. “Pleased to meet you, Mack,” I said, extending a hand. “Shall we try this again?”

  This time, our hands connected, the shake warm and firm.

  “Miss Luzzi,” he said in that slow way of his, as if time was of no essence. “I’m pleased to make your acquaintance. I’ve heard so much about you.”

  CHAPTER 7

  We loaded everything into the car, a vehicle much nicer than anything I’d ever owned. I thanked my lucky stars it wasn’t a Hummer. Meg called dibs on the seat next to Clay, while Tupac the Cat got the seat of honor between them. I took the front, next to Mack the Movie Star.

  “Everyone buckled?” our driver asked, fastening his own seatbelt.

  “Why? You expecting a wild ride?” Meg winked.

  Mack started the car. “You are a firecracker, aren’t you?”

  “Among other things.” Meg glanced nonchalantly at her nails. “Wanna find out?”

  “Why’d you say you’ve heard so much about Lacey?” Clay spoke, an annoyed tone to his voice as he interrupted Mack’s chance to respond. “I mean, no offense, Lace. But you’re not famous, either.”

  “I was wondering the same thing.” I offered a quick smile. “I hope Lizabeth has only told you good things.”

  “We’ve gotta take the good with the bad now, don’t we?” Mack drawled.

  “What are you talking about?”

  At my offended look, he laughed. “I’m kidding, sweetheart.” He spoke with such emphasis on each word, as if he dipped his sentences in molasses on the way out of his mouth. “I’ve only heard good things about you since Miss Lizabeth came back from Minnesota. She couldn’t stop raving about Lacey Luzzi and team.”

  I fought back a wave of satisfaction.

  “I did the rest of the research on my own.” He raised an eyebrow, turning those blue eyes my way. “Don’t worry. I’ve taken out extra insurance on this vehicle.”

  I inhaled sharply. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Do you take offense to every joke?” Nothing seemed to faze Mack. He gave a good-natured shake of his head. “Just seems that about fifty percent of the time you’re involved in a case, it ends in a ball of fire.”

  “My percentage of explosions is rapidly decreasing, I’ll have you know.” I crossed my arms, looking out the windows. I’d never been to Hollywood before. Or California, for that matter. Palm trees lined just about every street, lights flashing on every corner. The city was so bright I could hardly make out a single star.

  “Miss Lizabeth likes you,” Mack said. “She tells me that you don’t care if you get the job done pretty or not, but you get it done regardless, and that’s what counts.”

  “You’re confusing me,” I said, turning to face him and sticking a finger out. “I think that’s kind of a compliment, but you’re also saying I lack finesse.”

  “I’m saying everyone has their strengths,” Mack said. “Maybe your strength is getting the job done at all costs. You just need one person on your team
who has finesse.”

  Meg raised her hand in the backseat. “That’d be me. I’m full of finesse.”

  The car fell silent.

  “So this here, we’re approaching Miracle Mile,” Mack said, and I had to credit him for the smooth change of subject. “We’re right in the middle of the city now, access to Hollywood, Beverly Hills, and downtown. Central location here, but it’s a bear to get to any of the freeways.”

  “I have finesse,” Clay piped up. He leaned forward between the seats, extending his hands for both Mack and me to see. “These fingers, full of finesse.”

  “He means on the computer,” I muttered, so Mack didn’t get the wrong idea. “He’s a genius with technology.”

  “That’s also important,” Mack said, giving a nod at Clay. “Every good team needs one geek.”

  Clay beamed, withdrawing his arms from the front seat. Except as he moved them back, his arms flailed and he elbowed the cat carrier, dislodging the lock. Tupac the Cat didn’t waste a second leaping from the opening door, flying about the car in a ball of scratches, screeches, and chaos.

  “Yeah, finesse my rear end,” I grumbled, lunging for the cat. I missed, rewarded with a four inch long scratch to my forearm. Clay cowered in the corner, while Meg tried to reason with him.

  “Tupac, you listen to mama,” Meg said. “You come here and sit on my lap right now, you bad boy.”

  Mack, to his credit, didn’t once take his eyes off the road. He continued weaving through Los Angeles traffic like it was his job. Then again, I suppose it was.

  “That your cat?” Mack asked.

  I nodded. “I feed him, though you’d never know it.”

  Tupac, meanwhile, settled down at the sound of Mack’s voice.

  “That’s it baby, come here.” Meg gestured to the kitty. Thankfully, Tupac was in an agreeable mood, and sauntered on over, settling in Meg’s lap as she stroked him gently.

  “You have nerves of steel,” I said to Mack, though there was a slight begrudging note to my voice. “You didn’t even flinch.”

  Mack simply smiled. “You’re in good hands.”

  Meg deposited Tupac the Cat back in the carrier, locking the door firmly. “That’s what I like to hear. Good hands are essential in a man, and you got that outdoorsy look like a farmer or something. I can definitely get on board with that.”

  Clay glanced down at his own hands. Then he clapped them together a few times, as if trying to “toughen” them up. He held them out to Meg. “What do you think of my hands?”

  She peered over, inspecting his palms like someone might examine a science experiment. “Soft,” Meg said. “But I’d need a more thorough demonstration to give you the full rating.”

  Clay’s cheeks darkened with color as he snapped his hands back into his pockets, whistling a tune and gazing out the window.

  “So apparently we lack finesse on this trip,” I said, thinking of the hole Anthony normally filled.

  Despite my boyfriend’s size and stature, he had reflexes like a panther – quick, soft, and deadly. Combine that with street smarts and real smarts, and he was an undeniably impressive force of nature. At the moment, I desperately felt his absence like a hole in my stomach. I missed him, for a whole boatload of reasons.

  “Good thing that’s my forte,” Mack said. “Finesse.”

  I squinted at him. “Lizabeth told us you were a driver.”

  “Yes.”

  I frowned. Apparently this was the part where I stopped getting answers from Mack, just as Lizabeth predicted. “Where are you from?”

  “The South.”

  I shook my head. “The South is a big place.”

  “I’m from a town so small you ain’t never heard of it.” Mack spared a quick glance in my direction, his blue eyes clear and firm, filled with non-answers.

  “Try me.” I hardly knew the big towns in the South, let alone the small ones, but something about his automatic dismissal got on my nerves.

  “I don’t think I want to.” Mack smiled. “After all, I am just your driver.”

  “Miss Lizabeth warned me of this,” I muttered. “Said you’d be full of more questions than answers.”

  Mack laughed.

  “Infuriating, you know that?” I shook my head.

  “Have you been back to your hometown?” Meg asked. “Since you left, I mean?”

  Mack shook his head.

  “Sure, answer her questions,” I said before Mack could respond. “I’ll just sit over here, being ignored.”

  “Are you ever planning on going back?” Meg asked.

  Mack blinked in my direction, then looked at Meg, though he didn’t speak.

  Meg pointed a finger at him. “I know what that means, you are thinking of going back. Is it about a girl?”

  “Not a girl.” Mack shook his head. He winked in the mirror. “I’m not open to dating at the moment. Sorry, ladies. And Clay, if you’re into that sort of thing.”

  “Hey!” Clay snapped. “What makes you think that?”

  “This is Hollywood.” Mack shrugged. “We’re liberal.”

  Meg patted Clay’s leg. “And you do have soft hands, cutie.”

  Clay looked torn between whether that was a good thing or a bad thing.

  “That’s a real drag you’re not available for dating.” Meg snapped her fingers, while Clay looked positively ecstatic. “But then, why are you going back if not for a girl?”

  “Leave it alone, Meg,” I said. “He’s not gonna answer anyway.”

  “Maybe not if you asked, since he’s ignoring you. But since I’m the one who asked it, there’s a chance.” Meg cracked her knuckles. “See, I’ve got this thing called charm.”

  “Ah, I see,” I said.

  Mack looked over at me, a challenge in his eyes. Then he glanced in the rearview mirror at Meg and took a deep breath. “Reunion. I’m considering going back for a reunion.”

  “He answered it,” Meg said. “What did I tell ya?”

  “To spite me.” I shook my head, deciding to try my hand once more. “How did you end up working for Lizabeth?”

  “Speaking of reunions,” Mack ignored my question. “Did y’all bring anyone else out here that I should know about?”

  I shrugged. “Well, Harold.”

  “Nobody else?”

  I shook my head. “My boyfriend might fly out on Wednesday night, but he’s not here now. Why?”

  “It seems you’ve already made a friend here in Hollywood.” Mack’s fingers tightened around the wheel as he looked at me. “Congratulations, that’s hard to do.”

  I whipped my head around, glancing out the back window.

  “Subtle,” Mack said. “Nice job, Miss Finesse.”

  “You already said I didn’t have finesse,” I growled, turning back. He was right, though; if our tail didn’t know we were onto them before, they sure did now. “So no surprises there. And I can’t ask questions either, seeing as you ignore all of them. Seems like you think I have a big, fat goose egg when it comes to my skills.”

  “That’s not at all true.” Mack flicked on a blinker and changed lanes nonchalantly. “I didn’t say that.”

  “Then what do you see as my role on this team?” I asked.

  “Lookin’ pretty,” Meg said. “Second to me. You know, I take care of the glamorous, sexy portion, and you’re more…‘girl next door.’”

  Mack bit his lip. “Isn’t it obvious?”

  “What?”

  “You’re the leader of the gang.” Mack leveled his gaze in my direction. “You don’t need to ask the questions, you need to give the instructions. Now with that said, since I’m just your driver, what would you like me to do in regard to our friends following this vehicle?”

  I glanced in the rearview mirror, still distracted by the big anomaly that was Mack. Then I turned around, noting the sleek black Jaguar behind our nice, yet comparatively normal-looking BMW. The F-type sped up. If there’d been doubt in my mind we were being followed, it was gone now.
And when the glint of a shiny black object appeared out one of the side windows, it became clear that it was not a friend.

  “Duck!” I yelled. “Mack, get us the heck away from that car.”

  “Your wish is my command, darlin’.” Mack’s fingers danced around the steering wheel, his eyes changing from amused to focused in a heartbeat, his foot pressing down on the gas pedal and careening us away from the vehicle.

  A shot rang out, missing our vehicle by inches.

  “Faster!” I cried. “Clay, get Tupac the Cat down below. Meg, stop swooning and duck.”

  Meg, still drooling over Mack’s last words, snapped to it and threw her body over Tupac’s carrier, her hands reaching out and clasping Clay’s.

  I turned to Mack. “How can you compete with an F-type? I don’t even know cars, and I know that one’s…well, a good egg.”

  “A good egg?” Mack chuckled before flicking on the blinker and cutting across three lanes before whipping a U-turn and heading in the opposite direction. “Sometimes it’s not about the power or the price tag. Sometimes…it’s all about the finesse.”

  He had the guts to wink at me while I sat low in the passenger seat.

  Flustered, I changed the subject. “Do you really think you need to use blinkers during a car chase?”

  “I’m from the South. I have manners.” Mack spoke as if it were common sense. “I’m a good, Southern gentleman.”

  “I somehow doubt that,” I said. “But I’ll believe whatever you say if you get us out of this mess alive.”

  Three more gunshots rang out, one of them taking out the red stoplight just in front of us.

  “Finesse, darlin’. This car looks average, but it’s got the best performance under the hood. I’m all about what’s on the inside…anyone can buy themselves an F-type, but knowing how to make that baby hum is another thing entirely.”

  “This is making me really want a date with you,” Meg said. “You keep talking like that, and I’m gonna have to kiss someone. And I haven’t yet decided who that’ll be, so watch out. Nobody’s safe. Not even you, Tupac the Cat.”