American library books » Other » Chocolate Chip Cookie Conundrum (Murder in the Mix Book 32) by Unknown (the lemonade war series .TXT) 📕

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flicking his fingers my way. “Let’s have it.”

I pull the roll of bills out of my pocket and plunk it into his greedy hand.

Ten grand, present and accounted for. The rules are, I give him cold, hard cash once a week and he provides personal protection for my family and me.

“Thank you,” I tell him. “So here’s the deal. I can’t pay you forever. But I’ll give you a nice bonus if you figure out a way for me to shake the Canellis once and for all. I need this hit removed. It’s not only a danger to me, it’s a danger to you and your men.”

His cheek cinches on one side and there’s a boyishness about him. He’s young, early twenties maybe. But he stepped into the mob honestly considering it’s his birthright. He works construction for his father’s company by day and wreaks havoc on other crime families by night. I predict it will be a short life for him if he keeps this up. And I’m not exactly helping prolong his days. If anything, I’m hastening them to an end.

“Look, Judge Baxter, my business is danger,” he says, thumbing through the bills before sinking them into his pocket. “The Canellis are jumpy. They’ve seen my guys, and they think we’re ready to pounce again.” He shrugs. “Who knows? We might just be. I hear Red Satin is a decent place to set up shop. Once I boot the Canelli clan out of town, I might just make that my new home.” His shoulders bounce again. “And once I get there, it’ll be free beer for you at the bar. After all, I’ll owe it all to you. If it wasn’t for your need for protection, I might have gotten back into the swing of things in Jersey and forgot how beautiful the women were out here.”

“Nice to hear.” Considering the fact he’s engaged. Not that I care what he does and with whom.

“I’ll tell ya, it’s good to be me.” He slaps me on the shoulder. “I’ve got a hot sidepiece who looks an awful lot like your old lady.”

“What?” I lean in, and instantly I know exactly whom he’s talking about. “Where did you find her? Where is she?” It has to be the woman from the hospital. The one Carlotta says isn’t my problem and refuses to come clean about. Lemon’s sister. Or at least I think that’s who she is. Carlotta isn’t giving an inch of information away for free, but I am this close to ratting her out to Lemon. I would have done it long ago if I thought Lemon was in the right frame of mind to deal with it, but she has the baby and I want her to enjoy her foray into motherhood without Carlotta or any of her errant and questionably psychotic offspring mucking up the waters.

“You don’t need to know where I am or anyone I deal with.” He lifts his chin and his eyes close to slits, making him look ten times more sinister than he did a moment ago. “She’s a cagey one. I’m not even sure I know her name. Met her that night at the hospital. She came running out just as I finished a smoke, and the rest, as they say, is history.” He starts to take off.

“Manny,” I call out and he turns around.

“What if I told you I needed protection from her, too?”

His expression sours on a dime. “I might be able to hold back the Canellis, but I can’t control a single woman. And believe me, I’ve tried. You’re on your own with that. Watch out. She’s a wildfire, that one.” He disappears like an apparition.

A wildfire.

I close my eyes a moment. Lemon and I have already been ravaged by a fire once, we don’t need to get burned again. I need to figure out where the heck Manny Moretti is stashing this mystery woman.

But how the heck do I track a mobster who I’m paying to keep track of me?

Noah. He volunteered to get recruited into my troubles.

It looks like he’s about to get his wish.

Lottie

Head hurts.

Boobs hurt.

Need sleep.

My head drifts backward onto the sofa as I begin to blissfully nod off.

“Cock-a-doodle-doo!” Cluck Norris shrills, and every raw nerve in my body jolts for a moment, and then as if it were all a bad dream, I can feel myself drifting again. I’m not proud to say I’m having homicidal intentions toward a ghost for the very first time.

Whack, thump, BANG, BANG, BANG!

“Huh?” My body straightens involuntarily as my muscles stiffen and I do my best to pry my eyes open, only to see the construction taking place out the living room window over on the land next door.

Pancake and Waffles, my sweet cats, a couple of Himalayan brothers with creamy white fur and rust-tipped tails, give a lazy glance my way.

Toby, Noah’s golden retriever, lies at the base of the fireplace looking up at me with heavy eyes.

“Why can’t I be more like you boys?” I ask, kicking my feet up on the coffee table. “You can sleep through anything. And whose bright idea was it to move next door to a construction site? Oh, that’s right. Mine.” Never mind the fact the construction is for my dream house with Everett. At this point it’s more of a house of horrors.

“You’re doing it all wrong, Lot,” Carlotta is generous enough to point out as I sit strung out on the couch with Lyla Nell nursing contently in my arms. The television is on in the background, playing season after season of Catching up with the Kellermans on a loop. My hair has morphed into a tumbleweed, I haven’t had the luxury to shower yet, I’ve been shoveling chocolate chip cookies into my mouth nonstop for the better half of the day, and it’s only four in the morning—or is it four in the afternoon? Oh heck, I don’t think time matters anymore. And to make

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