Sugared

by Gina LaManna

  Alessandra sat on the couch and stared at the windows, her gaze cutting through the clouds to the streets below, the river beyond. “Check the stove.”

  “What?”

  “The stove. He hated to cook, so he’d leave things in there whenever we stayed places. Money, alternative ID’s, whatever he wanted to keep safe.”

  “Worth a shot.” I entered the kitchen, running a hand lightly over the stove before fiddling with the oven door. It popped open easily. “I don’t see anything.”

  “You’re not looking hard enough.” Alessandra joined me. She looked inside, frowned, and shook her head. “It has to be here.”

  “But—”

  “It’s here.”

  I let her play with the stove for a few moments as I opened every cupboard in the kitchen. Nothing except the very basic necessities. The more I looked, the more I gathered that Beckett hadn’t spent much time here at all.

  A tingling feeling crept over my spine. Something was off about this place. Either Beckett had used it as a safe house, it was brand new, or...could Eric have been leading us down a false trail?

  “What if we’ve been set up?” I started to ask, but at the very end of my sentence, Alessandra let out a cry of success.

  “I knew it!” Lights flashed from the oven’s clock, and a beeping sound broke out. “It’s the timer. That’s the ticket. If we enter the correct password, we’ll find whatever it is he’s hidden.”

  I gave her a wide-eyed look. “No way. What if we guess wrong and something blows up?”

  “One shot,” Alessandra said. “What could it be?”

  “If he wanted us, or you, to find this place, it would probably be something relevant—something only we’d know.”

  “It was your name on the slip of paper, so I’m guessing it’s something related to you. Your birthday? The date you met?”

  “Nope. None of that.” I shook my head. “I’m sure of it. It wouldn’t be something so obvious. It’d be something private, that only the right person would know...” I stopped talking, slapped a hand to my forehead. “What date did the two of you get engaged?”

  “No, of course it’s not that. Too recent. Plus, if that were the case, he’d have put my name on the paper.”

  “No, he wouldn’t have. He wanted me to come here, but he’d have known we would work together on it.”

  “Yes, but—”

  “Punch in the number,” I instructed. “I’m positive.”

  She leaned forward, her fingers trembling as they landed on the buttons used to set the timer and temperature.

  “Lacey—”

  “He loved you, and he cared for you,” I said. “Trust me on this.”

  She inhaled a shaky sigh and pressed the numbers 12:23.

  Then she stepped back and waited. I waited, too, praying we hadn’t just set off an alarm, detonated a bomb, or otherwise ruined the day. If my eyebrows encountered even a whiff of heat, what little I had left would be vaporized.

  Then, the beautiful sound of a long beep and a flash of the word APPROVED blinked across the display screen. A small door appeared on top of the stove. One of the burners, it appeared, housed more than an ability to heat up food.

  The circular compartment rose up like a cylindrical tube, and when it was a few inches above stove level, a door appeared on the side along with a button.

  “You open it,” Alessandra said. “I can’t. Please.”

  “Are you sure?”

  She stepped back, hugged her body. Biting her lip, she nodded.

  I reached forward, pressed the button, and a spring triggered. An instant later, the door opened, leaving a black hole into its recess.

  One look at Alessandra, and she nodded for me to continue. I crouched down and looked inside. Nothing. I leaned closer, and was just about to declare the hidden safe empty when the glimmer of a soft fabric caught my eye.

  Reaching inside, I felt around until my fingers closed on a small velvet bag, so perfectly black it’d blended into the darkness itself. I withdrew it, let it rest in my hand as Alessandra joined me at my side.

  “What do you think it is?” she asked.

  “Let’s find out.” I eased the bag open, tipped it upside down, and let the object slide onto my palm. There, in my hand, sat a ring. Big, bright, and stunning. A bit tarnished, as if it were old, but stunning nonetheless.

  I extended my hand toward Alessandra, who studied it with care. “I think this belongs to you.”

  “A ring,” she murmured. “But—”

  A slow clap broke out, turning my attention to the doorway of the apartment where a man stood, exaggeratedly putting his hands together. A man I knew all too well.

  “Fantastic work,” The Zebra said. “I appreciate this, ladies. Now, where’s the rest of it?”

  Alessandra’s hand closed on the velvet bag while I clamped down on the ring. I slipped it onto my finger for now since this dress had zero pockets, and I had a feeling I might need both my hands for whatever came next.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked. “How did you get inside?”

  “You think you’re the only ones who can forge a hotel keycard?”

  “We didn’t forge anything,” I said, reluctantly eyeing the gun dangling from his fingers. “We didn’t break into this place—you did.”

  “Technicalities.” The Zebra strolled into the room. “Well, I’m sorry to intrude, but I’ll need it all back.”

  “All of what?” I snapped.

  “Don’t play stupid,” The Zebra said. “I believe you didn’t break into this Penthouse—I really don’t think either of you have the skills to duplicate this sort of room card...” He tapped the key against the table and gave a quick shake of his head. “It’s a tricky one, I’ll have you know. But if you didn’t break in, that means you were involved.”

  “Involved in what?”

  “The taking of something that doesn’t belong to you.”

  “I have nothing. We have nothing,” I said. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Keep the ring, I don’t care—I had it before. It wasn’t worth anything then, and it’s not worth anything now.” He pursed his lips and surveyed us both, top to bottom. “I want the money.”

  “What money?” Alessandra asked. “We don’t have any money.”

  “Maybe not, but Beckett does.” The Zebra corrected himself at once. “He did, at least, and it belongs to me. He might be dead, but I’m not—and I want it all back.”

  “If he had money that belonged to you, then why’d you kill him?” Alessandra took one step closer, her fists clenched around the velvet bag. “Why didn’t you get the money first, and then kill him?”

  I watched her move forward, impressed that somehow, she’d managed to secure her phone in her hand, tucked discreetly behind her hip.

  “Oh, honey, it was an overdose,” The Zebra said. “Didn’t you read the report? Someone couldn’t handle the stress anymore.”

  “Why don’t you tell us your version of the events,” I said. “And we’ll go from there. I still don’t believe there’s any money missing since this is the first we’ve heard of it.”

  “What do you care?” The Zebra asked, his eyes swiveling to me. “You’re otherwise engaged, Miss Luzzi.”

  “Beckett and I were friends,” I began, but Alessandra waved for me to stop.

  “He’s trying to bait you,” she said. “Stop.”

  “Maybe you’re right,” The Zebra said. “We need to talk. Sit down, both of you—on the couch. Don’t try anything. Unlike last time, this gun is real.”

  We did as he said. Unfortunately, I didn’t doubt that the gun was real—or that he’d use it. When we were seated, The Zebra perched on the couch across from us. As far as I could tell, Alessandra still had the phone in her hands, but from what I’d seen, she hadn’t managed to dial.

  The Zebra watched as I inched closer to Alessandra, the brush of arm to arm subtle, but enough to reassure. I squeezed down tight, en
suring the ring stayed on my pointer finger. Then we waited.

  While the situation we’d gotten ourselves into wasn’t great, it could’ve been worse. If The Zebra wanted something, that meant he didn’t want us dead. Especially if we were his best shot at recovering money that he needed.

  “I’m a man of many trades,” The Zebra declared. “I have excelled in many different business ventures, but I’m new at a few and learned the hard way that there’s a learning curve.”

  “You screwed up,” I said. “That’s what this is about. You screwed up, and Beckett came after you.”

  “I took something that didn’t belong to me,” The Zebra said. “Unfortunately, it belonged to your friend—and it was something he cared about a great deal.”

  “The ring.”

  He nodded. “Turns out that piece of junk is worth next to nothing on the black market.”

  “You are trying to enter the black-market jewelry business,” I said. “And you stole from the wrong person.”

  Bobbing his head in agreement, he continued. “Must’ve been a sentimental piece because Beckett was not happy when he figured out who took it.”

  “He stole it back.”

  “I would’ve given it back to him if he’d just asked, but he didn’t. Your fiancé had a point to prove,” The Zebra snarled at Alessandra. “Not only did he take the ring back, he also took three million dollars of my damn money.”

  “What did you expect?” I looked at him in disbelief. “You’re a thief. You can’t steal from someone and expect they’ll be happy about it.”

  “He went above and beyond the necessary levels of retaliation. This move will cripple my business if I don’t get the money back. He must have known that.”

  A sudden understanding dawned on me. “You need this money because you owe it to other people, and they’re coming after you.”

  “Smarter than you look.”

  “And you can’t go to the police,” I said. “Because your three mil was probably stolen in the first place.”

  “I should’ve known a Luzzi would understand. Has Carlos mentioned me lately? Your grandfather and I go way back. From what I hear, he’s somewhat out of the game now, isn’t he?”

  “What do you want us to do?” I ignored the attempted jab about Carlos. “You already admitted the ring was worthless, so it’d do no good for us to turn that over to you, anyway.”

  “Find a way to get me three million dollars before your wedding.” The Zebra leaned in, a dry smile on his face. “Or you can RSVP me with a plus one.”

  He gestured toward the gun at his side, which set me off. I flew to my feet, a new level of anger brimming over me. “You will not threaten my wedding.”

  “Won’t I?” The Zebra’s gun twitched in his fingers. “She lost her fiancé,” The Zebra said, nodding toward Alessandra. He turned his gaze back on me—his eyes hooded as he squinted and his voice filled with venom. “Don’t lose yours.”

  A threat against me was one thing. A threat against Carlos and my family was another. A threat against Anthony, against our marriage, against the best, the most joyous piece of my life was something that I wouldn’t tolerate.

  The anger brimmed to a rage, and I didn’t even feel myself lunge forward. I jumped for him, my arms outstretched, fingers clawing as we crumpled to the ground.

  Glass broke, the table shattered. Body parts thudded against the ground and furniture scraped across the floor.

  Alessandra cried out, but I couldn’t see her—I couldn’t see anything except The Zebra’s face as I landed on him, pinning him to the floor. I don’t know where the strength came from, but I wasn’t going to question it.

  “Don’t you dare ruin my wedding!” I hissed, my hands pressing against his neck. “I already lost my eyebrows because of you, and I’m not losing anything else.”

  He spluttered as my grip tightened. I eased up as he coughed. I wouldn’t kill him, I couldn’t. But it wasn’t until Alessandra yanked me off him that I stumbled away completely, limping toward the door.

  Unfortunately, The Zebra didn’t agree that things were over. “Get me that money,” he said, rubbing a hand against his neck. “Or your fiancé will be dead before he reaches the altar.”

  “Lacey, stop!” Alessandra yelled as I started toward him once more.

  The Zebra struggled to a sitting position, the purple of his face morphing to a morbid red. “I’ve had enough of your family. This is over. Get me the money, or you’d better wear black Saturday.”

  I whipped my arm out from Alessandra’s grasp and threw myself at him—no longer feeling logical or sane. I couldn’t even feel emotions. Just raw anger as I flew at him a second time.

  This go around, however, he was ready for me.

  He rolled away, and I shifted course, but not quickly enough. The gun came up, clenched between his hands. We tumbled across the floor. I knocked the weapon away. He snatched it back.

  I scratched at his arms as we fell, but before he hit the floor—before I landed on top of him—his finger reached for the trigger. And pulled.

  My ears rang as the shot exploded. A white-hot flash tore at my skin. It didn’t hurt. It just...was. Something dripped to the floor. Something red, sticky. I tasted metal.

  “Lacey!” Alessandra’s voice echoed through the room.

  Whatever she said next didn’t make sense because I couldn’t hear, couldn’t focus. I was bleeding, my vision clouding. Possibly from the sight of blood, possibly because it was coming from me. Or possibly because The Zebra had his hand at my throat and was squeezing.

  Alessandra yelled again, then swung her foot. A swift kick to the head had The Zebra rolling off me. I didn’t register my freedom for a long minute. I couldn’t—couldn’t move.

  Luckily, Alessandra had already leapt to action.

  She half dragged me out of the room, and I happily discovered that my legs still worked. I glanced down, however, and saw my sundress soaked in blood along one side, my sweater no longer white.

  My stomach roiled, and a bout of nausea sent me into a fit of dizziness. Alessandra pulled me through it, talking in low soothing tones as we leaned against the elevator and made our way to the ground floor—graciously with no other passengers in tow along the way.

  The walk through the lobby was a dream. I vaguely remember people staring at us, at me, with wide eyes. I couldn’t detect their emotions, the look on their faces. Horror? Surprise? Shock? Maybe a few felt sympathy, but not many. Most wanted nothing to do with me. Why would they? I was a bloody mess.

  It was interesting, the things going through my mind during this sort of fugue state. All at once the world had sped up, lightning speed, and then stopped. Slowed to a molasses crawl—even Alessandra’s words sounded hazy. The blinks of strangers’ searching eyes turned lethargic. My thoughts ran at double speed, even as the world fell behind.

  We crashed into the car, and I couldn’t speak for most of the ride.

  “Am I going to die?” I asked Alessandra. Her fingers gripped the steering wheel so tight they resembled bones. A skeleton driving me to my deathbed. I giggled.

  “No, you’re perfectly fine.” She chanced a worried glance at me. “What’s so funny?”

  “Carlos will be so mad I got blood on his seat.”

  I halfheartedly leaned my head against the window, the metal taste worsening as we neared the gate.

  “We’re almost home. Anthony will know what to do. You’re going to be fine, Lacey. Hang in there.”

  “Lacey?!” Harold threw open the door as Alessandra dragged me up the steps. “What happened?”

  “What do you think, Harold?” Alessandra bit out. “Surely, you know the drill. She’s hurt!”

  Harold looped an arm under one of mine while Alessandra took the other, the three of us limping our way through the Hall of Infamy. My arm hurt, my head spun, but other than that, I felt a sense of nothing. Nothingness, and nothing more.

  The swinging door fell shut behind us, startling Nora. He
r back was to the stove, a ladle in hand. She twirled around, a smile on her face as she waved the spoon like a wand, until she saw the sight before her.

  Her ladle, coated in sauce, clattered to the ground. The end of it splattered, the sauce spreading across the floor like bits of blood. So much blood. Too much blood in this room.

  “Lacey,” she whispered. “What happened?”

  I barely managed to shake my head. The mere action seemed to flip a switch in Nora as her mouth tightened. A look of rigid calm descended over her face as she barked instructions over my head.

  “Come with me. Dr. Gambino is in today. Let’s go. Lacey, keep your head up. Pay attention, and lean on us,” she said. “You don’t have time to get dizzy.”

  I mumbled. “But I got shot.”

  “That’s not an excuse. I swear, Lacey Luzzi, if you die before I see you walk down that aisle, I will be furious,” Nora said. “Come on, dear. We’re going to get you fixed up in no time.”

  “It hurts,” I said. “I’m tired.”

  “I know.” For one brief second, Nora softened, brushing my hair back from my face, her eyes misting with brightness. “But we don’t have time for that now. You need to focus on getting better. Can you promise me that?”

  I nodded, and that’s the last thing I remembered before I slumped into unconsciousness.

  Chapter 22

  When I woke, I was on a table. The doctor’s table, to be specific.

  The handsome doctor leaned over me, futzing with something or another, straightening to a standing position when I opened my eyes.

  “Lacey, how are you?” he asked with a glimmer of a smile. “Long time no see.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” I said. “You can joke because I’m not dying, right?”

  “Take a look.” Dr. Gambino gestured down the length of my body. “You’re all patched up. You took a nice snooze, and I helped it along with some pain meds. You’ll be good as new soon enough.”

  “By my wedding?” I asked weakly.

  “Now, if you’d asked my recommendation beforehand, I would’ve told you not to get shot two days before your wedding,” he said, glancing up at my forehead. “I would’ve also told you that eyebrows are not a suggestion, they’re a necessity. I noticed yours had gone missing sometime between last night and this morning.”