Page 25 of The Killer Cupcake (Poison Cherry #3)
P resent. Matteo's Lincoln Continental screeched to the curb.
He was out before it fully stopped. His soldiers held every corner that mattered in Harlem now, watching everything.
A crew maintained round-the-clock surveillance on the Freeman brownstone—Janey hadn't arrived, Sandra had already been taken by Junior.
Matteo’s heart hammered against his ribs like a machine gun as he reached Debbie's salon and found the steel security gate pulled down, the "CLOSED" sign mocking him through the bulletproof glass.
He'd told her to lock herself inside and wait for him. A wise woman, who finally started to listen.
Fumbling for his keys with hands that trembled slightly—not from fear, but from barely controlled rage—he thought about Caesar breaking that locksmith's jaw just three days after his return from prison.
Debbie had refused to see him. He had a remedy for that.
Whether Debbie liked it or not, she could never keep him from her again.
Never keep him from protecting what was his.
So the locksmith got him keys to every door to every place she owned or lived.
The lock turned with a satisfying click, unlocking the door.
He stepped into the familiar sanctuary of her world—the scent of hair relaxer and expensive perfume, the gleaming chrome chairs, the mirrors that had witnessed a thousand secrets.
She rushed toward him immediately, her usually flawless makeup streaked with tears, mascara painted dark rivers down her cheeks.
"Matteo!" She threw herself into his arms before he could fully close the door behind him. He locked it quickly, then wrapped her tightly against his chest, feeling her whole body shake with suppressed hysteria.
"What happened? What did that crazy bitch say to you?" His voice was deadly calm, but his mind was already calculating how many different ways he could make Janey Boanno disappear.
"She's completely unhinged! She's always been unhinged, but this—" Debbie's words tumbled out in a rush.
"She says she's going to stay with Sandy and tell her everything.
She says it's my fault Kathy's dead, that I should have called the family. She says she hates me for keeping secrets—secrets you made me keep!”
"Stop. Stop." He cupped her beautiful face in his hands and kissed her forehead with infinite tenderness. "Breathe, Debbie . Just breathe."
Debbie nodded and closed her eyes, drawing in shaky gulps of air.
Matteo felt his own pulse begin to slow.
When he'd heard the terror in her voice over the phone, a hundred nightmare scenarios had flashed through his mind—the Feds kicking down her door, rival families making their move, politicians playing their power games.
He'd driven through Harlem like a man possessed, running red lights and leaving his security detail scrambling to keep up.
"Now. Tell me exactly what she said," he commanded gently, guiding her to one of the salon chairs and pressing her down into the buttery leather.
"She was waiting outside when I arrived this morning," Debbie said, her voice steadier now.
"Was Willa with her?"
"No. She had Coffey waiting in the car. Said Willa was back home in New Orleans, didn't want to make the trip. That has to be a lie,” Debbie sighed deeply. “Willa would never let her come back to Harlem without her after Carmelo told Janey not to return. I think she just snatched Coffey and came.”
Debbie paced and kept talking. “She said one of Izzy's sons contacted her, told her that Kathy was dead. Said the Elliott sisters were furious that no one called them, that we had a funeral without the family blessing. I told you I should have contacted them!"
"She's not dead," Matteo said firmly, though doubt gnawed at his gut like acid.
"How do you know that, Matteo? How can you be so certain?
" Debbie's voice cracked. "What if she is dead? What if they both are? What if I've been lying to myself all this time? Thinking I could make up for all the fucking mistakes I made with this family. With you! Damn it, I never should have listened to you! We can’t change the past!”
She started to stand from the chair, but he moved faster, blocking her path with his body. “Please, please. Stop. Sit. Stay calm."
"You didn't see her, Matteo. You know how Janey gets when she's on one of her crusades—and Willa isn't here to keep her grounded. Carmine’s dead. Pinkie’s dead. Aunt Brenda’s dead. Kathy’s gone.
No one can stop Janey. She'll do anything, say anything.
She'll destroy everything Kathy and I have built!”
"I can handle Janey," he said with the quiet confidence of a man who'd ordered the deaths of stronger opponents.
"Let me worry about her. But this does change our timeline.
Fuck." He ran a hand through his dark hair.
"Those diaries won't mean shit now if Janey starts filling Sandy's head with her version of history.
She's a distraction I can't afford. I’m running out of time.”
"What do you mean, running out of time? What's happening now?" Fear flickered in Debbie's eyes—the kind of fear that came from loving a man whose world operated by its own deadly rules.
Matteo realized he'd said too much. The last thing she needed to know about was the federal task force breathing down his neck, or Jersey and Philly making moves on his business deals, or the mayor's promises to clean up organized crime before the next election cycle.
"The press is circling like vultures. All these arrests have the mayor boasting about chasing out the mob, cracking down on our legitimate businesses across all the families. I'm handling it. Don't worry about any of that."
"I do worry. I worry constantly," Debbie whispered, reaching up to touch the faded scar on his jaw—a souvenir from Vietnam that reminded them both how fragile life could be.
"I know you do, amore . I understand." He caught her hand and pressed it flat against his chest, where his heart still beat too fast. "But I need you to love me. It’s my fire. It gives me strength.”
“I do. Tell me what to do, Matteo.”
“Marry me. Now. Let’s get that done first. Then we go to war.”
Debbie blinked her tears. “You got a one-track mind.”
He smirked. “Or we can get on that sofa in your office, and I’ll make you feel better before we go.”
“No!” she pushed him away. “You always think about sex. I’ll get my purse. Let’s get married.”
“Okay, then the honeymoon, right?” Matteo joked as she walked back to her office. When she disappeared, his smile dimmed. Janey’s arrival was not in the plan. He let go of a deep breath. Time was up.
Lac Tremblant, Quebec
"You overreact, and then—you never forgive, you just punish!” Carmelo's voice cracked with desperation.
"Just tell me! Please stop trying to get in my head and twist everything around. Be honest with me," she demanded, her voice steady despite the hurricane of emotion building in her chest.
"I can deal with your anger. I just... I need you to try to understand my reasons," he said, his dark eyes pleading.
"Tell me! What did you do?" she asked.
A bitter smirk touched his lips as he finally revealed the unthinkable: "I had you murdered. You're dead. We're both dead."
Kathy blinked twice, her mind struggling to process words that made no sense. She had envisioned murder and mayhem, but this didn't register in any reality she could comprehend. "Dead?"
Carmelo's stare turned cold as steel, his voice stripped of all emotion.
"That federal agent who told you I was in witness protection—the one who met you in Jersey at our safe house and helped get you here to Quebec?
He was a paid actor. It was all a lie to get you out of New York so I could blow up your car with a dead woman's body inside.
Someone we dug up fresh from a grave in Queens. To make the police think it was you."
Kathy's mouth fell open, and the world stopped spinning. She took an involuntary step backward, her hand falling away from the ring she'd been unconsciously twisting for strength.
"I did it for me and Nino. They all think we're dead now. That's why there's no phone here. That's why you've been isolated with me for over two weeks," he finished, each word driving another nail into the coffin of her trust.
"You wouldn't do that. Not to us. Not to Sandy." But even as she said it, she knew from the set of his jaw that he absolutely would.
He nodded with the terrible certainty of a man who'd crossed every line.
"Matteo and Debbie have Sandy. In two weeks, Marco goes for our girl, after everything settles around your 'death,' Sandy will get a similar message.
She'll tell everyone she's going back to D.C.
, then she'll let my men take her to us.
And it will be done—my famiglia —you, me, Nino, and Sandy. We'll disappear together. For good."
"Are you fucking insane! You are! You're completely insane!" The words tore from her throat like a primal scream.
"I waited, Kathy. I waited for forgiveness, for acceptance, for my chance to be your husband, to have my family…”
“...I’m married to you…” Kathy protested.
“All because of me! Because of what I had to do to make you love me!” he shouted.
“No… no, that’s not true…”
“I waited for any chance to have what's been stolen from me over and over again. I begged you for years to walk away, to run away with me."
"Stop talking! Shut up!" She pressed her hands to her temples as if she could physically stop the horror from penetrating her skull. "I need to think. Oh God, my baby thinks I'm dead. My family thinks I'm dead. Oh God!"
Carmelo walked over, and she stepped back. He kept advancing, refusing her space or time to deal with her emotions. He was close enough to touch her, and if he did, she would scream. She felt cornered and terrified. "We are family. You and me! Not them! It’s just us!”