by Gina LaManna
I took a deep breath and approached the narrow sidewalk. It led up to an enclosed porch, small bushes lining either side of the front steps. A light glowed through the windows, and a flicker that might be a computer or a television blinked through the glass pane.
Taking a few more steps forward, my mind raced a hundred miles an hour as my brain flooded with all sorts of what ifs. There were so many reasons I wanted to turn around and hide out in the safety of Clay’s creep-mobile.
Still, I took another step. And then another.
Until I reached the front door.
A long window lined the left side of the door, the view inside the house unobscured by the sheer curtain drifting behind the glass. I raised a hand, pep-talking myself into delivering a firm knock.
But I chickened out.
Lowering my hand, I allowed myself one tiny peek through the window. I shouldn’t look. But maybe if I could get a sense of the furniture inside, I’d get a feel for...oh, who was I kidding? I was terrified to knock and I was nosy. I wanted a preview of the house and a sneak peek of the man who lived behind the door. Plus, peeking was easier than knocking.
The view through the window showed a simple entryway, a plain black jacket hanging in the hallway. I shivered, the jacket reminding me that winter was fast approaching and, as we were less than an hour from November, the temperatures were dropping quickly. The scent of snow hung heavy in the night air.
I craned my neck a bit more. Why not? I’d already peeked a little bit, I might as well make it worthwhile.
Branching out from the entryway was a small room from which the flickering light emerged. Squinting and leaning my nose towards the window, I could see that the room was empty, but the glare of a computer screen illuminated plenty.
The space must be an office. Next to the monitor hung a full length whiteboard, glinting in the dark night and filled with pictures of...
Shocked, I stumbled backwards.
“No,” I mumbled, the images seared into my mind. I stumbled again. “No, no, no.”
I took a step backwards, twisting my ankle as I fell down the steps. I cried out, my heart racing miles per minute, pain shooting through my leg, adrenaline coursing through my already volatile stomach.
Pushing myself up from the ground, I limped backwards, managing to glance towards Clay’s van as I did so. Anthony had one foot out of the van, one foot inside, a concerned look on his face.
I gave a wild shake of my head. “No,” I called. “Go!”
Anthony stepped closer. “No,” I said, this time louder. I tried to keep my voice down, but it was more important that Anthony heard me and got back in that damn van. I waved my hands like a lunatic. “Go!”
Meg, Clay, and Anthony looked like they were conferring and, just as I hobbled away from the front steps, an iciness slid down my spine. I knew before I even turned around that someone had opened the door to Jackson Cole’s house.
And that someone was watching me.
“May I help you?” a deep voice rumbled across the lawn.
“No,” I gasped. “Sorry, I tripped...” I kept my face averted.
“Let me help you,” he said. “I can call someone.”
Footsteps approached from behind, and I moved faster than I’d ever moved in my life, hopping my way to the van. I pushed away the pain, focusing on the car door which, thankfully, remained open. Luckily, Anthony and company had retreated inside the vehicle like I’d asked.
“Stop,” the man called. “Who are you? You’re injured, let me call for help.”
“Go away,” I called, still not turning to look. He was gaining on me, I could feel it. With a cry that curdled my own blood and a gasp that took my last breath, I launched myself into the van.
“Lacey, what happened?” Meg asked.
“Go!” I moaned. “Just go!”
Anthony had his business hat on, slamming the van door shut and shaking sense into Clay, urging him to pull away from the curb.
“Move it, Clay. Faster!” Anthony snapped, when Clay still didn’t react. “Now.”
The deathly tone of Anthony’s voice was enough to whip Clay into action, careening away from the curb and sailing right past the house of Jackson Cole. As promised, we flew right off the curb.
Only when we’d driven miles away, pulling over at a gas station to grab some ice for my foot, did anyone speak.
“What did you see, Lacey?” Anthony sat next to me in the back of the van, my foot in his lap as he gently massaged my calf and iced my ankle.
Clay turned back from the driver’s seat, listening closely, while Meg sat cross-legged next to me, slurping a huge Icee.
“I—” I shook my head. “I don’t know what it means.”
Anthony ran his hands up and down my legs, waiting patiently for me to regain my composure.
“I can interpret for ya,” Meg said. “Give it a shot. Just start mumbling incoherently, like you always do.”
I sucked in a deep breath, wishing the painkillers would kick in any time now. My foot throbbed and my head pounded, making it all the more difficult to speak.
“I could see through the window on his porch,” I said. “And it led straight into his office.”
Meg watched me, the straw of her Icee forgotten in her mouth, her eyes wide. “And?”
“And there were photos. Lots of photos attached to a whiteboard. Lots of lines, lots of documents, strands of yarn like in A Beautiful Mind. I couldn’t read the names under the photos, but it looked like the offices of TV detectives when they’re looking for a missing person.” I swallowed. “Or a bad guy.”
Anthony looked downward.
Clay cleared his throat.
Meg bit her lip. “And did you recognize the photos?”
I hesitated, then gave a curt nod. “Yes.”
“Who, Lacey?” Anthony asked, as if he already knew the answer. A pained expression crossed his face, his eyes a tinge forlorn. “Whose picture was on his board?”
I swallowed, unable to meet Anthony’s expression.
He reached out, gently tilting my chin upwards until our gazes locked.
Suddenly, I couldn’t look away, I couldn’t speak. I became frozen.
“Who?” he asked.
When I managed to speak, my voice came out in a hoarse whisper. “You.”
THE END
Author’s Note
THANK YOU FOR READING! I hope you enjoyed spending some time with the Luzzi Family! I’m very excited to let you know the next several books in the series are available on Amazon now! Click HERE to read Lacey Luzzi: Seasoned.
To be notified of new releases, please sign up for my newsletter at www.ginalamanna.com.
Thank you for reading!
Gina
Now for a thank you...
To all my readers, especially those of you who have stuck with me from the beginning.
By now, I’m sure you all know how important reviews are for Indie authors, so if you have a moment and enjoyed the story, please consider leaving an honest review on Amazon or Goodreads. I know you are all very busy people and writing a review takes time out of your day—but just know that I appreciate every single one I receive. Reviews help make promotions possible, help with visibility on large retailers and most importantly, help other potential readers decide if they would like to try the book.
I wouldn’t be here without all of you, so once again—thank you.
List of Gina's Books!
Gina LaManna is the USA TODAY bestselling author of the Magic & Mixology series, the Lacey Luzzi Mafia Mysteries, The Little Things romantic suspense series, and the Misty Newman books.
List of Gina LaManna’s other books:
Women’s Fiction:
Pretty Guilty Women
Mystery and Suspense:
The Hex Files:
Wicked Never Sleeps
Wicked Long Nights
Wicked State of Mind
Wicked Moon Rising
Wicked All The Way
>
Lola Pink Mystery Series:
Shades of Pink
Shades of Stars
Shades of Sunshine
Magic & Mixology Mysteries:
Hex on the Beach
Witchy Sour
Jinx & Tonic
Long Isle Iced Tea
Amuletto Kiss
Spelldriver
MAGIC, Inc. Mysteries:
The Undercover Witch
Spellbooks & Spies (short story)
Reading Order for Lacey Luzzi:
Lacey Luzzi: Scooped
Lacey Luzzi: Sprinkled
Lacey Luzzi: Sparkled
Lacey Luzzi: Salted
Lacey Luzzi: Sauced
Lacey Luzzi: S'mored
Lacey Luzzi: Spooked
Lacey Luzzi: Seasoned
Lacey Luzzi: Spiced
Lacey Luzzi: Suckered
Lacey Luzzi: Sprouted
Lacey Luzzi: Shaved
The Little Things Mystery Series:
One Little Wish
Two Little Lies
Misty Newman:
Teased to Death
Short Story in Killer Beach Reads
Chick Lit:
Girl Tripping
Gina also writes books for kids under the Pen Name Libby LaManna:
Mini Pie the Spy!
