Lacey Luzzi Box Set

by Gina LaManna

  “Lacey.”

  I turned on a heel, a smile plastered widely across my face.

  “Carlos.” I leaned over to kiss my grandfather on both cheeks and he reciprocated, seeming bored with the transaction.

  Then, to my dismay, he reached for a hug. That in itself was a rare event, and I couldn’t help but squirm a bit. He gripped me tighter and whispered into my ear. “You have news?”

  I nodded, then realized from his standpoint in the hug, he couldn’t see me. “We’ve discovered the culprit. We’re working on locating the suspect in order to bring him in and make sure. Right now, it’s looking to be un-Russian related.”

  Carlos stepped back and took my hand in his, his grip crushing my knuckles one by one. “I don’t want to hear you thinking it’s not the Russians.”

  I winced and tried to nod.

  “I want to know,” Carlos growled. “Capisci?”

  “Got it,” I squealed, my voice high.

  He gave me a wide, happy grin. “Wonderful. Now, we shall enjoy the day, yes?”

  “Absolutely.”

  I sidestepped any further conversations, using Anthony’s entrance into the room as a diversion. Heads turned as he strode across the floor, annihilating any rose petals that dared block his path. Though every female eye in the room scanned him up and down, he was off limits to all. There was no way Carlos would put up with a female distracting any part of his Administration, particularly his beloved head of security.

  Anthony’s stride was confident and sure, his face professionally impassive. It was as if we hadn’t met in the elevator thirty minutes before, me naked and him too hot to handle.

  Without a glance in my direction, he put a hand lightly on Carlos’s back and whispered in his ear. Carlos gave two sharp nods and his face relaxed, an easy smile playing across his features. It was a scary transformation: this was a man who could charm the hardest of criminals and command an army that could successfully invade France.

  I wished more often than not that I’d inherited even a teensy bit of my grandfather’s talent. It’d be nice to be able to charm a man into falling in love with me or intimidate one of the criminals I tracked down. I’d even settle for not looking like a fool for five minutes here and there. My lack of experience in this whole “tough guy” industry was depressing at times.

  My mind wandered to dangerous places as Anthony backed away from my grandfather. He was so tall and thick, and all man. I glanced down at my own biceps. I worked out with the man, shouldn’t I get a little of that toned deliciousness? Carlos reached out and patted Anthony’s expansive, sturdy chest. The red rose in his suit pocket swayed ever so slightly, but Anthony himself didn’t flinch. He was solid.

  “This here, this is a good man, hmm?” Carlos raised an eyebrow in my direction.

  “Uh, sure?” I smiled, hoping I’d given the right answer.

  “You find yourself one of them, yes?” Carlos winked. “Your grandmother, she says she doesn’t want to be old, but there’s nothing Nora wants more in the world than a few grandkids.”

  My smile that’d started as confused now faltered and turned fake. Mental note to self: add acting to my list of failed talents. “She has grandkids—Marissa and Clarissa.”

  Carlos’s smile also took on a falser tone. “Yes, she loves them. But she wants a wedding, a husband, and kids—the whole ball of wax. With Nicky, we have a father and two girls. One blonde. One brunette. No mothers around. Do you see the problem?”

  I raised my hands in submission, not wanting to get into this conversation. Was it the wedding ambiance that had prompted Carlos’s conversational foray into the world of romance? Or was it a cover for the serious secret Anthony had just whispered into his ear?

  “I will hop to that.” I nodded.

  Carlos gave a final shoulder squeeze to Anthony, fingers not so much as denting the suit on his shoulder, and then headed off into the rest of the party, accepting cheek kisses like they were bribes.

  I leaned forward and whispered into Anthony’s ear. “Will you tell me a secret?”

  “Depends.”

  “What’d you do to get on Carlos’s good side?”

  Anthony didn’t respond, but a glimmer remained in his eye from Carlos’s praise.

  “Are you married?” I asked. “I don’t really know much about you.”

  “That’s how I like it.” Anthony stepped towards me and planted a quick kiss on my forehead.

  I opened my mouth in shock at his brazen display of affection. But when I looked around, nothing seemed awry. Carlos hadn’t ordered anyone over to murder Anthony, no women were swooning or weeping or gathering their pitchforks to hurt me, and even Clay and Meg, who’d just entered the room, were deep in conversation.

  “Ah, you’re tricky,” I said. “Observant.”

  “Part of my job,” he said, shoulders rigid once more. A sign that somebody was watching. “Walk with me.”

  “Where? Don’t we have to eat?”

  Anthony looked at me as if he couldn’t imagine how I was thinking of food at a time like this. “I’ll keep things brief.”

  I inhaled a breath to respond, but Anthony glanced over his shoulder as he led me from the room. “Keep in mind, that’s not always the case.”

  I exhaled the breath in one slow motion, feeling like I needed to fan myself to cool down the lady bits. I followed him from the room, matching his brisk pace as he wove through the crowds of loudly jabbering Italians.

  Once we’d reached the outer doors, I stuck a finger to my ear to try and clear the ringing. “They’re rowdy in there, aren’t they?”

  The quiet stretched between us like a fat, dead weight.

  “And you’ve just realized this.” Anthony stated the fact as if he wasn’t sure whether I was stupid, or just astoundingly unobservant.

  “What did you need? Did you want to ask me to dance tomorrow?” I sidled up to him, elbowing him playfully in the gut. “I’d check the maybe box, in case you’re wondering.”

  “About the note. The killer.” Anthony didn’t crack a smile. My shoulders drooped a little bit at his lack of humor, then I reminded myself to grow up. He was only doing his job—a job he was chosen for because of his stoic nature, big arms, and willingness to do some “kind of” bad things in the name of the Family. Flirting on the job probably was highly frowned upon.

  “What about it?” I asked. I felt the urge to start taking notes, just to keep my hands busy. My elbow still felt full of static from the electric shock it’d gotten from touching Anthony’s gorgeous abdomen.

  “I have my men on it in the cities. They are very, very good.” He ran a thumb over his clean-shaven jaw, which I suddenly wanted to cozy up against and nip before moving onto better places.

  I cleared my throat. “I’m sure they’re excellent. Just like you.”

  Anthony cocked his head in an emotion I couldn’t decipher. It could’ve ranged anywhere from amusement to disdain. “Doll.”

  I winced. “You know what I mean.”

  A smile flicked across his lips, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “They’re having trouble locating the boy, and it’s not for lack of trying.”

  I shook my head no. “Of course not.”

  “So, I need to know three things.” Anthony grasped both of my shoulders, and his cologne swept over me, making it very hard to think of one thing, let alone three things.

  “One,” Anthony’s voice brought me back. “Are you sure he’s related to Leo?”

  “I—” Before I could finish my sentence, one of Anthony’s hands left my shoulder and a finger pressed against my lips. It was more tantalizing than I would’ve ever imagined.

  “Two,” he began. “Is the kid based in the cities, or did he sound foreign? Maybe from Chicago?”

  “Uh—” Again, the finger silenced my answers. I was slightly afraid I wouldn’t remember all of the questions, and for some unknown reason, I didn’t want to let Anthony down.

  “And three, yes. I’d like
a dance with you.”

  “That’s not a question,” I managed to mumble around his finger.

  “It would’ve been, except you beat me to it.” Anthony took a step backwards and left me to stand on my own two feet, a harder task than I would’ve imagined.

  “Now, for answers one and two.” He gestured for me to spill my information.

  “I, uh, I don’t really know,” I admitted.

  “Which one?”

  “Kind of both.”

  Anthony ran a hand through his hair, and I suddenly wondered whether it was gelled in place, or whether it naturally sat just so...perfectly wavy and thick, like a luxurious ocean of hair.

  “Listen, the kid literally found us in a cemetery. It wasn’t like I was out searching for him. I honestly believed his little story—that he really wanted to get into the Mafia. That’s a crazy story to cook up without some part of it being true.” I tapped my front tooth with my pointer finger, in thought. In retrospect, it was probably not one of my more attractive decisions. “Actually, no. I know that he’s related to Leo. Joey confirmed it for me. At least, he confirmed Alfonso’s name.”

  “Joey?” Anthony’s eyebrows were the picture of quizzical.

  “I didn’t have a ton of time to check everything out. I had a wedding to get to, if you hadn’t noticed. He was a kid! I thought he’d go away and not be my problem anymore.”

  “Well, he didn’t.” Anthony spoke with the firmest tone I’d heard from him to date. It had a hard, scary edge to it, and I was reminded that this was a man with incredible power—a man I’d never like to meet on a dark street corner. Well, unless we had other intentions...

  I sighed. “I’m sorry, Anthony. But I don’t know what to do. If I had more time—”

  “We don’t. And now everyone at this wedding, their lives are in danger here. And it’s my job to protect them. So, I need your help—do you think the kid got up here on his own? Or is he working with someone?”

  “I don’t know,” I said quietly. “I’m sorry. I really don’t think it was the kid that chased us up here. I don’t know why I feel that way, but I really think he’s bumming around, laying low in a friend’s basement in St. Paul. Your men will find him, I’m sure. I know they’ve found more dangerous men in shorter amounts of time, but give them a break. The kid is scared and smart and he won’t do anything now. The note? I don’t know. Maybe he convinced one of his cousins or uncles to do it as a joke. Or maybe it’s somebody else.”

  “Could it have been Joey?” Anthony asked.

  “Joey?” I paused. That was a good thought. I kinda wished I’d had it myself.

  But then I remembered our arrival, and I sighed. Dead end. “No, it couldn’t have been. We’re sharing a room. I got to the room first and took a shower. He hadn’t even been in the room before I got out. I found him outside the front door with three elephant-sized suitcases, struggling to figure out how to use the card key.”

  “Who else had access to your room, anyone?”

  “No. Except for you, probably. You tend to have a way of showing up places you don’t belong.” I crossed my arms. I was starting to feel a little bit tired of being interrogated like I was the criminal here.

  A clinking noise signaled the start of spoons getting banged against wine glasses, a call for a kiss and a reminder to me that I should be joining the dinner party.

  “I’ll help you in any way I can, Anthony. But right now, I really have to go celebrate my cousin’s wedding.” I turned and strode from the room, proud of myself for not looking over my shoulder.

  A firm hand clasped my wrist and I whirled backwards, spinning like a ballerina. Or at least that’s how graceful I pictured myself in my mind. In reality, I came to a crash landing against a warm, hard body and the scent of manliness and clean linen.

  Anthony’s warm breath cascaded over my hair; I was trapped against his chest, one hand in his, the other wrapped around his waist, though I couldn’t remember how it’d gotten there. “I’m pissed at this guy, Doll. I’m pissed because everyone here is in danger, particularly you. That means I’ve got to be on my best behavior and keep an eye out for you at all times.”

  I rested my head against his chest, feeling suddenly tired from the day’s events. I wanted to skip dinner and go lie down in my own, clean bed. “Is it so terrible, watching over me?”

  There was a moment of silence, and it felt like we were frozen in place, a silent dance between two lovers. “Watching over you isn’t the trouble, Doll. I just don’t want to be distracted from watching you.”

  My breath came in short bursts, and I tried to calm my fluttering nerves before they gave me away. I wanted to pull back and stomp off to dinner like I’d started to, but I couldn’t do it. I’d never felt like this before, and I was beginning to think I liked it. Wrapped tightly in arms that were strong and secure, held by a man who was charming and sexy, even if I wasn’t exactly sure about his morals when the sun went down. I think I preferred not to know the full extent of his job.

  Then his lips brushed the top of my hair one more time and he released me from his grasp, my skin feeling suddenly cold where it’d been flaming hot only moments before.

  “Ready?” His eyes shone bright for the first time since he’d dragged me out of the dinner.

  “Do I look ready to you?” I hadn’t meant my comment to sound sarcastic. I actually meant it.

  “You look perfect.” He nodded, eyeing me from head to toe. “Except I’m not sure where you got that dress. From a nun at church?”

  And then my anger was back to its normal levels, my frustration boiling at the surface. “I did not get this dress from a nunnery, okay?”

  Anthony winked. “Don’t think I don’t understand your games. Clothing only goes so far as a deterrent, Doll.”

  The words that’d been on the edge of my tongue, prepared to lash out a retort, suddenly dissipated. I swallowed, my mouth going dry as sand.

  I finally made my entrance back into the dining room just as the champagne bottle was popped, the ensuing cheers thankfully masking my appearance, giving me a level of discretion I hadn’t counted on.

  I slipped into my chair and clapped with the rest of them, whistling with my two pinkies in the corner of my mouth, trying to ignore Anthony as he stepped inside the room and surveyed the space, business as usual.

  I barely noticed the man of the hour make his appearance just as the cheers were winding down and Vivian was preparing to gulp her (second, third or even sixth) serving of alcohol. The boring banker made his way to his chair just a little later than everyone else.

  Then again, if I’d been getting married to Vivian, I just might not have shown up at all. I gave Vivian a little credit: where Joey was orange, the banker was pale; where Joey had muscles blown up like a pufferfish, the banker was averagely flabby; and where Joey was crazy and psycho, the banker seemed utterly normal and, well, average.

  It looked to me like Viv had done a complete 180 on the man she’d chosen to spend the rest of her life with, but that was quite a good thing. The banker reached over and touched Viv’s arm as they sat down together, whispered something in her ear and then immediately took up staring at his empty plate, as if wishing food would appear. I happened to share that fantasy.

  Vivian ignored her husband-to-be, choosing to take shots with her maid of honor instead. I wasn’t one hundred percent sure what the banker saw in my cousin, but who was I to argue? I raised my glass with the rest of the room, and toasted the happy couple.

  Chapter 7

  DINNER PROCEEDED AT an incredibly loud and obnoxiously slow pace. Vivian had killed half a bottle of champagne by the time salads arrived, and after the first plate of pasta she was slurring her words, drinking from a bowl, and using her spoon to spread butter.

  I’d been moved halfway through dinner by a not-so-subtle request from Vivian, to sit next to the bride-to-be. It appeared that my new job for the rest of the evening was assisting Vivian in remaining upright in her seat an
d not spilling entire bottles of wine.

  The bridesmaid who had originally been in the seat next to Vivian was just as drunk and at least four times as loud as the bride. This woman screeched when she laughed and cackled when she sighed, and her singing was abominable. She’d tried to climb Anthony twice, in order to kiss his “adorable” cheeks. When that had failed, she’d taken to complaining non-stop about how her manicurist had destroyed her pinky nail by forgetting a teensy tiny little gem in the corner.

  To make matters worse, her name was Katie and she insisted on being called Kiki. I couldn’t tell you why, because her words were more jumbled than scrambled eggs. Instead of helping Vivian enjoy her day, Kiki was shirtless by dessert and crying when the shots of grappa arrived.

  I looked around frantically for the banker, hoping he’d take care of his soon-to-be wife, but he was nowhere to be seen. Probably off smoking a cigar, I thought jealously.

  “I’ll never f-f-find love,” Kiki wept into her glass.

  “Me neither,” sobbed Vivian. “I’m marrying a b-b-banker. That’s not romantic.”

  “But you’re m-m-marrying somebody.” Kiki collapsed.

  I looked around the table. The men had long since departed, and the few bridesmaids who were in a state of semi-sobriety suddenly became intrigued with their desserts and shoveled massive quantities of gelato into their mouths.

  “It’s okay,” I said. “Vivian, don’t say that too loud. You’re getting married tomorrow.”

  I looked over at Anthony for some help. He remained standing in the corner, stoic as usual, nothing betraying his annoyance except for a steady twitch of his jaw.

  “There, there.” I patted each of their backs in turn, glaring over Kiki’s shoulder at Anthony.

  His lips tightened and he gave an imperceptible shake of his head, signifying, “There’s no way they pay me enough money to do this shit.” And I couldn’t be one hundred percent positive, but I was pretty dang sure Anthony made good money.

  In the two moments that I’d been exchanging an eyeball to eyeball silent conversation with Anthony, I hadn’t realized that Kiki slipped out from under my arm and went to Vivian’s side. They were very animatedly comparing breast size, with Kiki lamenting how her DD cups should be enough to get a banker if Vivian’s measly D’s could secure one.