Page 41 of The Killer Cupcake (Poison Cherry #3)

SHATTERING THE MISSING PIECES

T he clink of glasses, the roar of masculine laughter, and thick clouds of cigar smoke overran the lobby of the Chamblee Hotel—a hotel that had been upgraded to high-end service for those who dwelled in society's underbelly. Men like him and his brother.

Matteo lit his third cigarillo and exhaled slowly, his sharp eyes sweeping the faces of men they knew and those they didn't. Among them all, he didn't see Carmine Boanno.

"He's not here?" Carmelo asked, tension crept into his voice.

"Doesn't look like it. Maybe he took Kathy's aunt to the Memphis Belle," Matteo suggested.

"No coloreds allowed there. That would be too risky, even for the Marcellos. He has to be here somewhere—maybe in the rooms upstairs. Gambling rooms to the back? We need to find him."

Matteo threw out his arm, stopping Carmelo's advancement. "Wait. Slow down. You're acting jumpy as a cat."

"I've got this feeling," Carmelo mumbled, running a hand through his dark hair. "Something's wrong. A fucking funeral home? No safe house for me and Kat? He isn’t sloppy like this. Why does this feel… I dunno, neglectful?”

“You’re pouting cause you had to leave her behind,” Matteo rolled his eyes.

“No. It’s in my gut. I need to talk to him tonight,” Carmelo insisted.

Matteo frowned, studying his brother's agitated state. "Let me ask around."

Reluctant but without options, Carmelo stepped back toward the bar.

"Get a drink. Cool your heels. I'll be back in a few," Matteo said, slipping through the crowd like smoke.

Carmelo accepted a whiskey from the bartender, his thoughts racing.

He hadn't been concerned when he'd arrived—he'd had a whole agenda planned for his visit to Tennessee.

Hell, he'd even jumped the gun by mentioning Vegas to Kathy.

And the truth he shared was far more complicated than desert dreams.

Matteo wanted to finish what Carmelo couldn't bring himself to do.

Had sworn on their mother's grave he would kill their father.

To accomplish such a lofty goal would require careful arrangement through anyone but Sicilians or Italians.

Meyer Lansky and Lucky Luciano's alliance presented the perfect opportunity.

Bugsy Siegel and Lansky were both Jewish, and their internal conflict had put Vegas on the map, bringing the Mafia in for a slice of the pie.

Carmine and Marcello could help them get to the table and arrange the hit on Don Cosimo that would free them all.

Something in Carmelo's gut said everything was now at risk, and he had to ensure nothing stood in the way of the life he'd promised Kathy.

"Drinking alone?"

He turned to find Janey standing behind him, elegant as always in a burgundy dress that hugged her curves. There weren't many women in the company of these gangsters, but Janey wasn't like any woman he'd ever known.

"No, let me get you something. What would you like?" he asked with a forced smile.

"Answers," Janey said, stepping closer until he could smell her expensive perfume. "What is upsetting my husband?"

Carmelo's brows lowered. "What do you mean?—"

"He's been in a foul mood since New York, and now that we're here, he's even worse. I know Carmine better than anyone. Something's gnawing at him, and my guess is it's you."

"Me? I didn't even see him in New York, Janey. I was looking for him. We need to discuss the match arrangements."

"Found him!" Matteo announced, walking ahead of Carmine Boanno through the smoky crowd.

Carmelo looked into Carmine's pale eyes and knew instantly. It hit him in the gut harder than his father's hammer ever had. Maria. The twins. Carmine knew everything.

"There he is!" Janey moved toward her husband, attempting to kiss his cheek, but Carmine was in no mood and pushed her aside with barely contained annoyance.

"You looking for me, kid?" Carmine asked, his voice carrying the quiet menace of a man who'd discovered betrayal.

Confused, Janey's gaze swiveled from her husband to Carmelo, sensing the dangerous undercurrents she couldn't quite understand.

Carmelo had to neutralize the situation fast. "Yes, can we meet privately? Got some things my father wanted me to discuss with you."

Without waiting for an answer, he walked quickly away from the bar, not looking back. He feared meeting Carmine's eyes again. If this was going to explode, it would have to be now, away from witnesses and innocent bystanders.

The time for reckoning had come.

The best he could find was a poker room where players were engrossed in their high-stakes game. He walked to the furthest corner and spotted a door marked "STORAGE." Beyond it lay a small room filled with crates of liquor and linens—private enough for what was coming.

Carmelo went straight inside, leaving the door open for Carmine, then began pacing as panic rose inside him like molten lava.

Carmine entered at his leisure, his silver-topped cane clicking against the wooden floor. The door closed behind him with ominous finality.

"It's not what you think!" Carmelo shouted, pacing frantically. "I would never betray Kathy. Ever!”

"Yet you are married to another woman."

"It was Mama! It was all because of Mama!

" Carmelo spun around, his face flushed with desperation.

He was losing his breath, crumbling under Carmine's lethal scrutiny.

"My mother died—her suicide, her final letter—she said there was a hit on Kathy's father.

That I had to make peace. I had no choice!

Matteo was missing. Debbie pregnant. Kathy trapped in Mississippi, and I had just broken the sacrament for shooting my father.

I had to." His words tumbled out in hyperventilated bursts.

"I only did it because it's not real.” Carmelo laughed as madness took control over him. “It’s all a lie. It’s all fake.

A lie! I'm already married—I married Kathy first!

Before a real judge! So this wedding to Maria isn't real in God's eyes! "

Carmine remained stone silent, his pale gaze bore into Carmelo's soul.

Carmelo closed his eyes, his voice dropped to a whisper. "The twins... they were… a mistake. An accident. I don't even know how they... how it happened."

"You don't know how babies are made?" Carmine asked with deadly calm.

“So much pressure at home. So much anger and pressure, and then the boxing, I carry it all.

I was drinking heavily, drowning in booze after I lost my fight in Chicago.

Maria said I came home stinking of liquor, and I forced her.

I would never… but she said it happened, and I.

.. I don't remember what happened that night," Carmelo said, his voice cracking.

"You’re a liar and half a man," Carmine seethed, his controlled facade finally cracking. "If you were a real man, you would never call your children a mistake!”

Carmelo's tears came hot and fast now. "You don't understand!

It was a mistake—a fucking mistake! I was drowning in liquor, missing Kathy so bad I couldn't breathe, and Maria.

.. she says I did it, says I forced her, but that's not me.

I'd never—Christ, I don't even remember!

Maybe I got confused, maybe I thought—" His voice cracked.

"One night! One goddamn night I can't even remember, and I swear on my mother's grave—on her soul—I don't know what happened! "

Carmine turned for the door, disgust rolling off him in waves.

"Wait!" Carmelo lurched forward, desperate. "How? How the fuck did you find out? Was it my father?"

Carmine's eyes went cold as winter. "Met your bambini myself. Your pretty little wife brought them right into your father's office. Along with your new mother-in-law."

Carmelo's mind reeled. "She brought my children to a sit-down? To a closed meeting with made men?"

"What's it matter?" Carmine shrugged. "Your father's married to her mother now."

"That calculating bitch set me up!" The words exploded from Carmelo. "That fucking puttana played me!"

"Watch your mouth, boy." Carmine's voice turned dangerous. "That's your wife you're cursing. The mother of your children. She says you promised to bring her to New Orleans, introduce her to Kathy."

"Lies! All fucking lies!" Carmelo was spiraling now. "She knows everything—knows about Kathy, knows I won't touch her, knows I'm dying inside every day I'm not with Kathy. And she parades those kids in front of you?—"

"Your kids," Carmine cut him like a blade.

"—because she knew! She knew you'd run straight to Kathy. Calculated every goddamn move!"

"Only thing calculated here is your stupidity!" Carmine roared back. "You made this bed, now you're crying because you gotta lie in it? Be a man! Own your shit!"

"Please." Carmelo's rage crumbled into desperation. "Let me tell Kathy myself. Let me explain—I got a plan. Vegas, right? You and Matteo been talking Vegas? I'll fight whoever, whatever—just let me tell her first. We go to Vegas, start clean?—"

"With what? Your wife and babies in tow? You gonna juggle families like some two-bit player?"

"I don't want them!" The words tore from Carmelo's throat. "Never wanted them! Never asked for this!"

They faced off, two bulls ready to charge. Carmelo's whole body vibrated with fury, fists white-knuckled at his sides. Carmine just shook his head slowly, turned for the door again.

"You breathe one word—one fucking word to her—and I swear to God I'll kill you." Carmelo's voice dropped to a deadly quiet. "I'll burn this whole thing down. The fight, the deal, everything?—"

Carmine's hand stilled on the doorknob. "Warned you about Elliott women, didn't I? Told you their hearts don't forgive. You had the honey, boy. Now all that's left is the sting."

"I'll fucking kill you," Carmelo whispered.

"Nah." Carmine didn't even turn around. "You already dead, Carmelo. Been digging your own grave since the day you betrayed her. Now you get to lie in it—alone. Just like every other fool who crossed an Elliott woman."