Chapter 26

Halloween night has held many memories for me, mostly chocolate-filled, gluttonous memories where I eventually passed out in a sugar coma.

Although there was that one time with Timmy Jenks, where our braces locked and we spent the next few hours in the ER, but I push that nightmare out of my mind.

Tonight, on this Halloween night, I certainly made some new memories that I won't soon forget—that is, if I live past midnight.

Watson and I arrive at Red Satin Gentlemen's Club down in Leeds in record time. All the way here we were already missing Spooky something fierce. I'll have to contact his new owner in the morning about getting together at the dog park asap. Yet again, that is, if morning ever comes for me. And if it doesn't, Watson will most likely be missing me as well. Or at least he should. I do feed him.

I scoop up my furry fellow vampire of the night and we duck inside the red-clad oasis with girls in various levels of undress parading around.

Both the men and women here tonight have some sort of costumes on, the lights are dim yet strobing, and lots of fog seems to be swirling around the joint. The music is far too loud and the men that are screaming sound as if they're experiencing pain far more than they are pleasure.

This is pretty much how I imagine it is in Hell.

Speaking of which, I'd better get down to the devil's lair. It's time to beg for mercy from the one devil that never gives it.

Watson whimpers as if he read my mind, and believe me I'm about to whimper, too—right after I finish groveling to my Uncle Jimmy.

We make our way through the dark hall in the back, down to the casino where the lights from the one-armed bandits are whirling and twirling. The place is packed tonight, and most of the people down here are in costumes as well.

The smoke swirling about is coming from cigars, and all of the blackjack and poker tables are brimming with bodies, most of them stony-faced men. The music is just as loud as upstairs but the scent of whiskey is thicker. As tempting as it is to shove a few quarters into a slot machine, I hang a left and navigate the labyrinth of hallways until I come upon one of Uncle Jimmy's faithful goons guarding his office.

I'm about to ask him to shoot me and make it quick, but he opens the door and leads me to a fate worse than death—my uncle.

Uncle Jimmy sits smoking a stogie and the smoke veiling him makes him look even more like a mythological creature than he already does—not the pretty ones, but the big scary ones that everyone does their best to avoid. He's basically a villain in every iteration you can think of. And he's pretty good at it, too.

"You come bearing good news?" he asks, setting his cigar in an ashtray and motioning for me to hand Watson over.

I'll do no such thing. Instead, I set the pooch down on the desk and let Watson's free will determine where it will take him. And as my luck would have it, his free will sends him scampering for Jimmy.

"Sit, Bella," he instructs and both Watson and I land on our tushies before him. "Where'd you do the dirty deeds, and do we need a cleanup crew to take care of the bodies?"

I frown at the thought.

A cleanup crew is made up of about six to twelve of his men, depending on how gruesome the scene is. Rumor has it, within ten minutes they could have the slaughter grounds sterile enough to perform open heart surgery for the Pope.

I'm guessing the same could be said for this office once he takes care of me.

"Actually"—I lift a finger as a bevy of lies try to infiltrate my lips, but alas the truth wins out—"the scene of the crime was at the Tavern of Terror, an upstairs room where Johnny was dressed as a lumberjack. We had it out. He swung an ax my way and I shot him."

The truth does have a way of looking good if you omit certain details.

He blinks back. "Good work." There's a note of surprise in his voice as if he didn't think I had it in me and I take umbrage with that. Not that I did have it in me, but still.

If either of us should believe in my executioner skills, it should be him. After all, he's doling out the big bucks for me to perform.

"So you got 'em both?" His brows furrow as his perplexity seems to grow. So much for believing in me.

"I shot Johnny in the hip. He confessed to killing his brother in front of Cooper—Detective Knox—Lazzari, and well, Cooper had to take off to process the guy. I guess you could say I missed my chance."

Uncle Jimmy rolls his eyes. "So they're both still breathing. But since Johnny is headed to prison and Sal is dead, it looks as if I'll get my investment back anyway."

"How do you figure?"

"When Johnny borrowed the cash, I had my lawyers write an addendum to the deed stating that should anything happen to him—prison included—I get the restaurant."

"You mean his share?" I tip my ear his way. "Sal had a widow. I guess you'll be in business with Morella Marino."

"Not true. Sal had messy financials. It was easier for Johnny to procure the place alone even though they were going to go in halves. It was a good guy agreement between brothers. I guess one of the brothers wasn't such a good guy. I respect Johnny for popping the traitor. I could see how he could get over the fact Sal borrowed money from the man they both hated. Borrowing money from your enemy can quickly turn into a heist if you never plan on paying them back. But sleeping with his wife? The guy signed his own death certificate when he pulled that off."

"Wait a minute." I jump in my seat. "You knew that Johnny killed Sal and why!"

His shoulders twitch. "He showed up in my office a few days back and confessed the whole thing. He wanted advice on how to avoid the detective that was breathing down his neck."

"That would be Cooper." I cringe.

I'm getting the feeling Cooper knew more than he was letting on, too. Let's hope that's all he's aware of.

"Which brings us to the next point of contention. The detective." Uncle Jimmy sighs. "I take it you've had more than a few opportunities alone with the guy to pop him into tomorrow."

Watson growls and I'm moved to do the same, but I'm already skating on thin ice as it is.

I could lie, but then lying to Uncle Jimmy is a lot like lying to the Big Guy Upstairs. There's no use. Uncle Jimmy already knows the truth.

"Yes." I sigh. "I had ample opportunity to land him in the morgue—which I didn't do. But if it means anything, I did manage to land him in a cemetery a few days back." Sure, it was during that ghoulish walking tour, but again with the truth, less is more.

He frowns my way. "Fess up, you didn't do it and the job has gone unfinished."

I hang my head on cue. "Go on. Make it quick. And don't let me suffer. You can tell my parents I moved to Alaska and maybe they won't suffer too much either."

"Look at me," he thunders and my eyes flit to his. "I had a very interesting visit yesterday from a certain someone who knew about the hit."

"The hit on Cooper?" I gasp. "Was it my ridiculous sister? Oh, please don't make me kill her, too. I mean, most of the time I want to, and believe me, it wouldn't even be a challenge, but I'm pretty sure she's harmless. Sure, she's a tattletale and she'll probably tell everyone that I'm a hit woman for hire for the biggest mobster around, but that's only because she's proud of me. And she might be an incessant gossip."

His furry brows swoop together. "No, it wasn't Nicolette." He's always referred to my sister by her formal name. On second thought, I think this is the first time he's referred to her at all.

"Was it Aunt Cat? Or that goofy friend of hers, Carlotta?"

Uncle Jimmy's right hand flies to his holster. "Call Carlotta goofy again and see what happens."

"Duly noted." I give an audible gulp. It's clear he still has the hots for her.

"But it wasn't either of them either, and it wasn't Cupertino himself. It was your nona."

"Nona Jo?" I squawk.

"She's the only nona you got living."

I give a furtive nod to affirm the fact.

"So what happened?" I ask with an entirely new level of fear rising in me.

"She let me know there's going to be a wedding." He glowers right at me. "That the detective is going to plant his Lazzari seed inside you and that you're going to have a thriving garden of children."

My mouth squares out at how graphic he felt he needed to be. Come to think of it, he could just be repeating what Nona Jo told him. That's so her.

"She said she gave you her blessing," he roars as if the thought infuriated him. "Why didn't you tell me? I thought we were close. Do you know what kind of curse would have fallen upon me if you carried out my orders? It could have had the power to unravel my entire empire." He waves his hand at the rusted filing cabinet to his left. "I would have lost my footing to the Lazzaris. And the Canelli name would have been mud—worse than mud because no one would want to step in it in fear the curse would fall upon them, too." He shakes his head at me. "We're both lucky Nona Jo had the good sense to drop by."

Boy, I'll say.

Although the real lucky one around here is Cooper—and maybe me, seeing that I'll most likely live past midnight.

"But here's the caveat." He holds up a thick finger my way and I nod because there's always a caveat. "I don't care how many years go by. If the two of you split ways, I'll have one of my men take him out myself. But as long as the two of you are happy, he lives to see another Lazzari day."

Wonderful. Unbeknownst to Cooper, I'm the key to life.

"So now what?" I ask and immediately regret the words as they come from my mouth. I should have said thank you, grabbed the dog, and ran for Honey Hollow.

"Now you wait for your next assignment," he says, reaching down and opening a drawer on the right side of his desk before plunking down a wad of cash in front of me. "I'm paying you for both jobs. You got Johnny to pay me back—not with his life, but with something better, waterfront property in Honey Hollow. And you get to grow your garden of children with the detective. But you got to throw him, as far as your gig for me is concerned. I don't care how many secrets you want to spill during your little pillow talk sessions. This arrangement between the two of us isn't one of them. If he finds out, I take him out. Capiche?"

"Capiche," I say, snatching up the money, the dog, and what's left of my sanity. "Happy Halloween," I shout as I bolt out of his office, out of the casino, out of the armpit of Hell, and jump back into my car.

The devil may have had mercy on me, but it took an angel to convince him.

And that angel's name is Nona Jo.