by Gina LaManna
My body twisted in circles with his motions, my wrist still gripped tightly in his hand. I craned my neck to see why he’d left the kitchen, and I got my answer when I caught a glimpse of Marco humming to himself and slicing tomatoes.
“Where’d he get those tomatoes?” I asked, as Anthony glanced up and down the hall.
“Get in here,” he said, opening a door directly in front of us.
I followed Anthony inside the door. He quickly shut the door behind us, locking the two of us in the dark broom closet.
“Kinky,” I said, my voice light. “You know we have a bedroom if you wanted to cuddle, right?”
“The bed is in shambles.”
“Fair point.” Anthony had let go of my arm, and I raised my hands like a zombie, feeling around in the dark. “So what brings us into a nice, dark closet?”
I heard Anthony move, but I couldn’t see what he was doing. Only a sliver of light made it under the doorway, and the closet was jam packed with cleaning supplies.
“They’re driving me crazy.” Anthony sounded on the edge of a mental breakdown. “I can’t handle it anymore.”
“Who?” I reached out, my arms finally bumping against what I thought might be Anthony’s chest. I let my hands feel around until they landed on the soft skin of his face.
“Ow, you’re poking me in the eye.” Anthony’s hands closed around mine, pulling my hands down and resting them at my sides. But he didn’t move away from me, and I could feel his closeness in the dark. “Marco. He’s been singing opera the entire time you’ve been gone and asking me what I use to moisturize. I can’t take it anymore.”
I couldn’t help it. I broke into a grin. “Well, I’m holding my breath. What do you use to moisturize? You do have nice skin.”
“He thinks I dye my hair! He touched it. Asked if he could try moussing it into a style,” Anthony’s voice grew thin, as if that would be the absolute worst thing in the world. “I don’t know what to do anymore.”
I leaned into him. “Forget about it. He’s harmless. He’s a friend of Nora’s – you just can’t let him get to you.”
“I can’t ignore him when he’s belting Pavarotti into my ear.”
“We can ask him to tone it down.” I ran my hands up the outskirts of Anthony’s arms. “Are you okay? You seem a bit…on edge.”
Anthony’s arms tensed under my touch. “I’m fine.”
“Uh oh.” I gave a light squeeze to his biceps. “That’s code for something’s bothering you.”
“I’m fine, let’s just…let’s just get out of the house a little bit.”
“I just got out of the house,” I said. “Went to a delicious diner with Meg, and I’m not going anywhere until you tell me what’s on your mind.”
“Besides Marco’s opera?”
“Yes,” I said. “Is it something I said or did?”
“No.” I could feel Anthony shaking his head more than I could see it.
“What?”
“The events of yesterday and today,” Anthony said slowly, his voice guarded. “I can’t make sense of them yet. And I don’t like it.”
“Hey, welcome to my world,” I said giving a light laugh. “You’re talking to the girl who was investigating a non-existent sauce-man for like, three days.”
Anthony cleared his throat.
“Don’t feel bad about it. I’m just joking.” I stepped closer to him. “But talk to me. Run down your thoughts.”
Anthony didn’t speak.
“It’ll make you feel better. Just start talking.” I reached for his hand and held it tight. “Stream of consciousness, go.”
“Stream of consciousness?” Anthony asked.
“It’s where you say exactly what’s on your mind without using a filter,” I explained.
“I know what it means,” Anthony said. “I just don’t feel like doing it.”
“Try it. It feels good.”
“Exactly what’s on my mind?” Anthony asked.
“Exactly what you’re thinking. You can even start by saying I think this is stupid, but Lacey is making me do it.”
“Fine.” Anthony took a long breath and then blew it out before he began. “I’m thinking that I’m trapped in a tiny closet with my beautiful girlfriend, who thinks her hand is on my chest but really it’s closer to my belly button. I’m thinking that we haven’t got nearly enough alone time together lately, and I’d like to fix that sooner, rather than later. I’m thinking I won’t be able to focus on figuring out anything until she and I get to—”
“S’more. Let’s just call it s’moring,” I said, my breath catching in my throat.
“Hey, this is my stream of consciousness,” Anthony said. “Do your own.”
“Right. Sorry, continue.”
“I won’t be able to think straight until I get some alone time with her. And right now, I really want to touch her butt.”
A strangled noise escaped my throat. “Wow, that was…poetic.”
“So, may I?” Anthony asked after a moment of silence.
“May you what?”
“Touch your butt.”
“I think that goes with the boyfriend territory,” I said hesitantly.
Before I could finish my response, Anthony’s arms had snaked around my back and pulled me close, his hands resting just above my rear end as he gave it a quick squeeze.
“Better?” I asked. As much as Anthony’s little speech had made me smile, it had also made me want some serious alone time, too. Here in this dark closet, wrapped in his arms, I could almost forget everything going on outside of this room. Inside it was just me, Anthony and his wandering hands.
And then…opera. Marco’s voice pelted us through the doorway as he wandered up and down the hallway, singing at the top of his lungs.
“Stream of consciousness,” Anthony said. “I want to shoot him.”
“I would let you, but that would probably offend Nora,” I said. “Since he’s breaking our romantic vibe right now, let’s just talk about what’s bothering you. Then later after they’re gone we’ll really be able to enjoy our alone time.”
“I don’t like to talk.”
“Hmm, I never would have guessed,” I said. “Fine. I’ll start. I went to the diner today—”
“Where else did you go?” Anthony asked. “I checked the miles on the car, and I checked the distance to the nearest diner. They don’t match up.”
I sucked in air. “That’s pretty invasive, Anthony. Don’t you trust me?”
Anthony tensed, as if he was surprised. “I didn’t realize it was invasive…I was just worried—”
“Checking the miles on my vehicle is invasive,” I said, my voice firm. “I could’ve gotten lost. Or gone to the ice cream parlor. Or bought you a present.”
“Did you do any of those things?” Anthony spoke in a halting voice. “I just want to take care of you.”
My resolve softened at his sincere tone. “No, I didn’t do any of those things – I’m just saying I could have. If we’re going to do this, we have to have some trust in each other. You should be able to ask me where I went instead of tracking me. You should be able to tell me how you feel instead of making me guess. You shouldn’t need to know every single password and detail and happening in my life – trust me to tell you about the important stuff.”
“That might be difficult,” Anthony said, and my heart sank a little bit. I really, sincerely liked the man, but I wasn’t sure I’d be able to deal with this level of paranoia for long. “But I’m going to try my best, Lace. I’ll still make mistakes.”
I smiled, though he couldn’t see it in the dark. “I make mistakes all the time. Speaking of…I went to a diner today – food was delicious, by the way – and it also turned out to double as Gabe’s bar. The one Carlos asked me to go to. Happy mistake.”
“What’d she have to say?”
“She? You know her?”
“I’ve been up here once or twice,” Anthony said. “Everyone knows Laurelei.”
“Well, she says that she’s had a few new customers lately. They say they’re truckers, but she thinks they’re lying.”
“She’d know better than anyone.”
“Says they’re too young, too fancy to be truckers. Do you think they’re our diamond guys?”
“Possibly. I wasn’t there to hear, so I can’t say for certain.”
“Well, you’re in luck. We have a karaoke date tomorrow night!” I cringed, realizing Anthony probably wanted to be as far away from amateur singers as possible. “Laurelei insinuated her new customers might be there at that time.”
“You’re on your own.”
“Anthony…” My grip tightened on his arms.
“We’ve got our own Pavarotti here! Why do I need to go to a bar to get more? I already know I don’t like it.” Anthony lowered his lips to my ear. “Why don’t we let everyone else go, and we can hang around.”
“But this might be our chance to meet the diamond runners. Then I could call Carlos, give him the info, and go on enjoying my vacation.”
“You haven’t had a vacation yet to enjoy,” Anthony said.
“Fair. But it wasn’t my fault. And if I don’t look into this stuff, who will?”
“The police.”
“Speaking of the police, do you think Carlos will be upset I called the police when I found the body?”
“Well, we don’t usually call the cops to clean up our messes,” Anthony said.
“It wasn’t my mess!”
“He was in your trunk.”
“I didn’t kill him.”
“Of course not, but what if it had something to do with you?”
“Me? Why?” My question went unanswered for obvious reasons. By blood and by surname, I was automatically involved with one of the most infamous mobs in the country. “I understand the Luzzi name, but me in particular? I’m a small fish.”
“Not so small anymore, sugar. You’ve been taking an active role in the Family more and more, so you have to think that people will learn your name eventually. Especially lately. You’ve gone against the Russians, come up against The Fish – this could be a sign that people are starting to notice you.”
I took a deep, deep breath. I think I preferred when people didn’t know my name. Maybe I should come up with an alias for my mob job – after all, I’d had a stripper name for my last job. I could continue the tradition of having a different name for each one of my various careers. Maybe I could find a nice, intimidating mobsterista name. Lacey didn’t exactly spell BADASS.
“I’m not sure I can get used to this business,” I said. “I’m too innocent.”
Anthony’s arm tightened around my waist. “I can help you fix that.”
I gave him a light push backwards, but not too hard. I enjoyed being in his arms. His clean scent was crisp and fresh, as if he’d just shaved. There was a hint of mint with a twist of expensive linens, and I closed my eyes for a second, taking it in, leaning my head against his chest.
“Hey there, open your eyes,” Anthony said. “You’re allowed to fall asleep on me – in fact, I like it. But we’re in the middle of a conversation.”
I took a step backwards to gather my thoughts. Once I’d put sufficient distance between us, I crossed my arms. “So what should we do? I haven’t called Carlos, and I probably should, huh?”
Surprisingly, Anthony paused. “Let’s wait.”
“Wait?” I asked. “What happened to Mr. Honesty? You wanted to tell him about our relationship but not what’s happening out here?”
“That’s different.”
“Doesn’t he already know where you are? I thought you’d have called him on the way out to Tonka?”
“No.”
“Huh.” I considered this a moment. “Don’t you report to him?”
“Lacey, your grandfather signs my checks. I’m more loyal to him than I am to myself. But I’m not his pet. He’s hired me to do this job because he trusts me, and he doesn’t micromanage. I give him high level updates as I see fit.”
“I don’t want Carlos to think I’m keeping secrets from him.”
“Let’s wait a day or two.”
“Why?” I didn’t feel comfortable keeping secrets from Carlos, which might sound hypocritical since I’d wanted to keep my relationship with Anthony a secret from the Family. But that was different; work was work, and Carlos was my boss. My personal life was just that – personal.
“Carlos didn’t give me a heads up that you’d be working on an assignment out here. I had no idea about the diamonds until you told me.” Anthony’s voice became softer. “Which probably means one of two things.”
“Which are?”
“The first, he figured that whatever you’re looking into isn’t dangerous. I know Carlos would never risk your safety.”
I rolled my eyes. “Really?”
“He wouldn’t risk your safety without having me near. He wouldn’t send you into a dangerous situation without someone watching your back,” Anthony said. “And before you take offense, it’s because he loves you. We all have backups in the business – myself included.”
“Am I your backup?” I wiggled my way up next to him.
“Babe, you’re allergic to guns.”
“Not these ones.” I flexed my muscles, placing Anthony’s hand on my bicep in case he couldn’t see the teensy bulge.
He ran his hand up my arm, tickling my skin until he cupped the nape of my neck. A soft breath whispered across my lips as Anthony gently kissed my forehead. “I’d prefer you be my partner, not my backup.”
The butterflies in my stomach went crazy, and I stood on my tiptoes and pressed my lips to Anthony’s. He took his time with a long, lazy kiss that heated me up from the inside.
“Shame the bed is broken,” Anthony said.
“Who needs a bed?” I grinned, my lips still against his.
Anthony groaned as he reclaimed my mouth, pressing me up against the door of the closet. “Don’t you tempt me—”
Anthony was interrupted as someone opened the broom closet door from the hallway, and the two of us tumbled out together and landed in a tangle on the floor.
Meg stood over us, her hands on her hips. “Well, this is awkward.”
A crowd rapidly formed behind Meg. Dan, Alfie, and Marco pressed close by, the latter looking particularly offended that I’d been discovered in the closet with a different boy than him.
I gave a sheepish grin. “It’s not what you think...”
Chapter 18
“I can’t stand sitting around doing nothing.” I twisted uncomfortably on the lawn chair, one of those that stretched out, allowing the user to fall asleep while sunbathing. I ran a hand through my hair and stood up, frustrated at my inability to relax.
Meg had no such problem, lounging comfortably on a hammock that spanned the width of the porch. She was the picture of vacation: small bikini, icy drink in hand, not a care in the world.
I felt as antsy as if it were my prom night, when I wasn’t sure my date would show up. I walked up and down the porch, made circles around the hammock and tapped on my front teeth, an annoying habit I’d picked up years ago.
“You’re making me dizzy. Take a chill pill.” Meg swirled her drink with a tiny, pink umbrella.
“I can’t relax. I have too much adrenaline.”
“Well that’s your problem. But you’re making it my problem, since my stomach is getting queasy watching you run in circles.” Meg took a long slurp of her iced tea. “Why are you worrying, anyway? There’s nothing you can do right now.”
The whole herd of us, everyone staying in the Luzzi Family cabin, had done a late lunch after Anthony and I had toppled out of the closet. We’d scrounged up everything we could possibly put together into an edible meal and gobbled it up, leaving the pantry one hundred percent bare.
Alarmed by my half-hearted concoction of boxed mac and cheese – heavy on the cheese – Marco, Alfie, and Dan had evacuated the cabin shortly after lunch and
declared they’d be driving to town and buying fresh ingredients for a “civilized” dinner. It was the first time I’d agreed with anything Marco had to say. Maybe I didn’t want to marry the guy, but I was less discretionary when it came to food. If he could cook, I could handle the eating part.
But that didn’t stop me from declining Marco’s repeated invitations to accompany him and his friends to the city. I stayed back, begging for “girl time” with Meg. After nine hundred and sixty-four rejections, Marco had gotten the picture. Then he’d climbed into his teensy Fiat and puttered away, shouting out the window that he’d be back to cook me a romantic dinner tonight, one on one.
Anthony had been standing right next to me. “That’s not happening,” he said, his mouth a firm line. “You can be sure of it.”
After reassuring Anthony that I had no intentions of eating dinner alone with Marco, he’d calmed down and announced that he also had an errand to run. He’d climbed into his fancy car and disappeared in a cloud of dust, leaving Meg and me to relax on the front porch. And wait.
“Enough waiting,” I said. “Where did Anthony have to go, anyway? Why couldn’t he say ‘I have to go to the grocery store’ or ‘I need more deodorant,’ instead of just saying it’s an errand? That’s so broad. It could mean anything.”
“Maybe he’s embarrassed,” Meg said. “I had this one boyfriend – a fellow cop – who only used wet wipes when he went to the bathroom. Never touched toilet paper. Once, he ordered a huge box from Amazon and had delivered it to office. The wrong someone opened it on accident. Nineteen little boxes of baby wipes.”
“I really don’t think he’s gone after baby wipes,” I said. “Just a gut feeling.”
“You never know.” Meg shrugged. “That man was a big, tough guy. Tried to convince me day in and day out to try it. Said it’d change my life.”
“And did it?”
“Yeah, absolutely. Feels like I’m wiping my bottom with a cloud,” Meg said, shaking her head blissfully. “You should really try it sometime.”
“Okay, well I still don’t think he’s going out for baby wipes. But regardless, he should have just told me. I mean, we’re dating now. And co-workers. We’re going to have to get used to this sort of personal stuff.” I ignored the fact that I’d told Anthony the previous night that it was okay to lie about some things. Maybe he got confused and thought this was some thing. It wasn’t.
