Wicked Whoopie Pies by Addison Moore (english novels to improve english TXT) 📕

fires six more shots at Moretti Senior’s head and obliterates it right off.

Everett and I make our way back to the parking lot and he gives me a solid shove to the chest. I won’t contest him the right. I’m the reason Everett Baxter is a dead man walking.

“What the hell were you thinking making a deal like that?” he thunders. There’s a genuine rage in his eyes, and I’d be ticked, too, if I knew a top crime boss wanted me dead.

“Guys like Jimmy don’t pick up the phone and call 911. They need to feel like they’ve got a dirty cop on their side. That’s all. Nothing more is going to come of this than a few Moretti arrests. Think of it like this, I’ve got an informant on the inside and it’s Jimmy Canelli himself. The mob task force is going to be one happy bunch once I start pointing them to Moretti’s dirty dealings. And it’s going to come around eventually and bite Jimmy in the rear.”

He cuts a glance to the woods as if he wanted to laugh. “That’s what you think. You’re no hero, Noah. You’re a moron. He’s baiting you,” he grits those words through his teeth. “Trust me when I say he’s going to give your newfound loyalty a litmus test and it will be as dirty as they come. Sorry to break it to you, but you’re not getting out of this with your badge intact. I wouldn’t go bragging to your buddies at the mob task force about your new Canelli connection. Because that seemingly innocent handshake is going to come around and bite you on the rear right before it eats you alive. You think I’m in danger? I might be a dead man, but you’re right there, walking the green mile with me. And when this blows up in your face—and mark my words, it will—I won’t be able to bail you out of it.” He exhales hard as he looks out into the distance. “There’s going to be a day when you wish all you had to deal with was Florenza Canelli’s dead body.” He hops into his truck and looks back at me. “Go home and spend some time with Lemon and the baby. Your days are numbered, too.”

He takes off and leaves me in a plume of dust.

My days are numbered.

Maybe so, but it’s not me I’m worried about. It’s him.

Yet again Everett is paying for my sins.

And this time, he might just have to pay with his life.

Everett

My phone chirps and it’s a text from Lemon.

Hey #HotJudge! #HotBaker here! Looking for a good time? No, not that good time—although I’m assuming we’ll have a hot time sooner than later. I’m itching to head to the sheriff’s department and see if Noah can get us in with Nelson Stalwart. He’s the next suspect on my list, and I’m just dying to see what he’s got to say for himself. Olive painted a pretty bad picture of him. Rumor has it, he runs with the dogs. How about it? Are you up for heading to Ashford and petting some pooches? Lyla Nell is up for the ride.

I rub my thumb over the screen of my phone, tenderly, as if it were her skin. Those Hot Judge and Hot Baker hashtags were something that Evie drummed up after she accidentally took some steamy pictures of Lemon and me.

“Lemon.” I sigh as I quickly respond. Ended up in Fallbrook while running an errand. I was just about to wave at my sister. How about you and Noah take this one? I’ll meet you back at the house. Love you.

And I do.

I squint out the window at the insurance building my sister works at and wave as I hop out of my truck and head into the sandwich shop across the street. I wasn’t lying to Lemon. I told her the truth about being in Fallbrook, waving at my sister. What I didn’t tell her was that after Noah and I parted ways, I got on the horn with Manny Moretti—Junior—the young gun looking to make a name for himself by making waves with the Vermont families.

I head into the hole-in-the-wall establishment and the scent of fresh bread, fresh cut onions and bell peppers hits me. Under normal circumstances, this scent alone would have gotten my appetite going, but I seemed to have lost it back at that gun range with Jimmy.

Noah made a moronic move with Jimmy. And I meant what I said, he’s going to live to regret it.

Here’s hoping I don’t do the same.

“Baxter,” a voice says from behind, and I spot Manny seated near the back with a half-eaten sandwich on the table and a bag of chips that looks as if it’s been decimated.

I swoop over and take a seat across from him. Manny is tall, not too muscular but just enough to let you know he could hurt you if he wanted. He’s got permanent dark circles under his eyes and has an evil edge about him. My guess is he’s somewhere in his thirties, but acts all of thirteen. He could probably learn a few things from Evie and her friends.

“I see you’re back for more.” He flexes a dry smile. “I’m going to make this real easy. I’ll arrange for Jimmy’s hit to be a thing of the past like I did the last time. My guys are pros. I think they’ve already proven that to you. This time, I’ll cut the fee in half. Five grand a week. That’s a bargain, right?”

A ball of acid boils in my stomach. Why do I get the feeling I’m about to be introduced to a whole new price tag? One that doesn’t involve anything monetary. One that will make the original ten grand sound like a bargain.

I nod his way. “Go ahead. What’s the bottom line?”

“You’re a smart man. You know what’s up before it ever happens.” His features harden as