Page 55 of The Killer Cupcake (Poison Cherry #3)

He lunged forward, catching her as her knees buckled.

The dam broke. All her life, Uncle Pete had been invincible, untouchable.

This couldn't be real. She clawed at her father's shirt, wailing into his chest while his own tears soaked her hair.

They clung to each other like survivors of a shipwreck, drowning in shared grief.

Brooklyn, NY

The glass rattled under Matteo's fists. He pounded until light flooded the diner, until Mama Stewart appeared with her shotgun and her face set in a scowl.

"Boy, what in God's name?—"

"Please." His voice cracked. "It's about Debbie."

Something in his face made her lower the gun.

She'd seen him like this before—when Debbie stayed out too long, when she didn't answer her door or the phone.

Mama Stewart was the only one who didn't mock his anxiety.

José rolled his eyes. Debbie raged. But Mama Stewart?

She understood that love could make you crazy with worry.

"Get in here." She locked the door behind him, setting the shotgun aside. "Sit down before you fall down. I'll make coffee."

"Pete Freeman is dead."

The words hung in the air like a gunshot.

Mama Stewart's hand stilled on the coffee pot. Big Pete—who stopped by for plates to take home to Claire, who moved through Harlem like a force of nature, Bumpy Johnson's top enforcer. Gone.

"Lord, have mercy," she whispered. "That child. My poor Debbie."

"They found him this morning." Matteo's voice broke. "Floating in the Hudson. Beaten to death and dumped like garbage." His head dropped into his hands. "They're telling Debbie right now. Right this minute."

Mama Stewart moved to him, gathering him into her arms like the broken boy he was. His whole body shook—reliving every body pulled from those waters, every life the river claimed. She stroked his hair as he sobbed.

"I tried to stop it." The words tore out of him. "The cops had him, and I got the money together to pay the bribe. Sneak him out. I tried—God, I tried to get to him, before… before. But I couldn't. I failed Debbie. I failed her, and I promised her I wouldn’t."

Mama Stewart held him tighter, her eyes closing against her own tears. "This is war, baby. This is war."

The kitchen felt too small for grief this size.

Kathy watched her mother cradle the phone between her cheek and shoulder as she packed lunches of fried chicken and biscuits for the journey.

She murmured comfort to a shattered Debbie and relayed details on their return.

Kathy had already packed her things and Ely's for the trip.

The Reverend and the Jensens were all there, fretting and worrying over Big Mama, who had collapsed into inconsolable grief as her father raged and was restrained several times by the men of Butts outside.

"Let me talk to her," Kathy said.

Brenda handed over the phone like it weighed a thousand pounds, kissing Kathy's forehead before retreating to get totes to bring the food for the family with them.

"Debs?" Kathy asked.

Sobbing. Raw, broken sobbing was all that answered.

Kathy closed her eyes and silently cried, but tried to speak coherently through it. "Debbie, I'm so... so sorry. I didn't know when you called earlier. I'm..."

"It's okay," Debbie said. "I'm sorry, Kat. I'm sorry for what I did. I just wanted to believe them when they said the marriage was nothing, that you and Carmelo were already married, and then he had babies with her, and I didn’t know how to tell you?—.”

"Debs. I don't care. We'll never talk about it again. Uncle Pete..." Kathy broke. Debbie cried as well. They cried together for a stretch, taken in with grief. Kathy put her back to the wall and tried to catch her breath. "We're coming, Debs. All of us. Hold on, okay?"

"I can't. I need Matteo. I need?—"

"I know."

"Mama's dying, Kat. She's giving up. And Daddy—" The scream that followed was primal. "THEY BEAT HIM TO DEATH! THEY THREW HIM IN THE RIVER LIKE TRASH!"

"Listen to me." Kathy's voice turned steel. "We're coming. And whoever did this—they're going to pay, damnit.”

They said their goodbyes, and Kathy hung up the phone, then gripped the sink for strength.

She closed her eyes and counted down the rising rage inside of her, not sure where it was surfacing from.

She did her best not to submerge herself in it.

But she wanted it. She could taste it, she wanted it so bad.

This pain would push her family to the brink. Nothing would ever be the same.

"Carmelo?" Maria's voice was barely a whisper.

She pushed open the door to his office—what used to be the guest room before he'd transformed it into his center of operations. Ledgers sprawled across the desk, each line a thread in the web he was weaving by understanding his father’s financial empire.

"What do you want?" He didn't bother looking up.

Her sigh carried the weight of their marriage.

Finally, his gaze lifted. Maria stood in the doorway like a 1950s housewife—pressed dress, perfect hair, their daughter on her hip. Nina's toothless smile melted something in his face, and Maria knew enough to seize the moment. She crossed the room and placed the baby in his arms.

Carmelo's hands—the same ones that had been such a powerful weapon of destruction in the ring—cradled Nina with infinite gentleness. He kissed her forehead, breathing in her fresh baby smell. She was a gem, his heart.

"Two men are here to see you." Maria kept her voice neutral. "And Matteo's called three times. He says it's urgent?—"

"I said no calls." But his voice stayed soft as he lifted Nina over his head, delighting in her giggles of the baby and kicking feet. One more kiss, a tickle under her chin, then he handed her back. "Send the men in."

Maria took their daughter, her eye roll saying everything her mouth couldn't. The moment the door closed, Carmelo returned to his ledger, squinting then lifting a magnifying glass to inspect the numbers so cramped they made his head pound.

His father's consigliere was worthless—couldn't even keep proper books.

He'd have him replaced soon.

"Boss?"

Carmelo recognized the voice before he saw them—Midas and Luigi the Fish, his father's top capos.

Luigi still carried the stench of his fixer days, a mix of formaldehyde and river water that no amount of cologne could mask.

These were his eyes on Harlem's streets, reporting to him first on every shift in power since Bumpy's arrest.

"Did you find him?" Carmelo asked.

The men exchanged a look that made his stomach drop.

"Did you look for Pete Freeman?" His voice sharpened. "Bumpy's enforcer? I told you—anyone named Freeman was untouchable. Did you find him?"

Luigi shifted his weight. "Boss, we looked, but your father... he gave an order."

"What order?" The words came out dangerously quiet.

"We had to check in, boss. He—" Luigi faltered. "Tell him, Midas."

Midas swallowed hard. "Don Ricci said any order from you has to go through him. When we checked in about Freeman, he overruled. Called the cops, holding him. Told them to... handle it."

Carmelo rose slowly, his hands flat on the desk. "He did what?"

"Word on the street is they pulled him from the Hudson this morning." Midas couldn't meet his eyes. "He's dead, boss."

"I gave you an order!" The lamp was in his hand before he realized it, hurled across the room to explode against the wall inches from Midas's head.

"GET OUT! NOW!"

They fled. Carmelo sank into his chair, the truth hitting him like cold water. He'd sent them to save Pete Freeman. Instead, he'd painted a target on the man's back. His father had used his own rescue attempt as a death sentence.

He'd just killed Kathy's uncle.

He got up and rushed out of the office into the parlor where the phone was. He should have the fucking phone in his office. He dialed Matteo’s place in East Harlem, and his brother never answered. He shook all over with panic and braved the call to his father.

“Hi, need to speak to Pa,” he told his mother-in-law.

“He just left, sweetie. Is there something you need?—”

He slammed the phone down hard enough to crack it. Breathing hard, he felt a surge of panic rising in his chest.

“Melo? You okay?” Maria asked.

“Get away from me,” he said, trying to catch his breath. Thankfully, she didn’t listen. She came over to him and touched his forehead. Carmelo couldn’t breathe; his face turned red as a beet.

“Calm down. Calm down,” Maria said patiently. She took his hands. “Breathe, Melo. Breathe.”

He closed his eyes and breathed out of his mouth and through his nose, the way Maria was doing in front of him.

Finally, the seizures in his chest stopped.

But they were replaced by insurmountable fear.

He burst into tears. Maria gathered him into her arms and held him.

He had no choice but to hold on to her. He had no one.

He had killed Pete Freeman, and Kathy would never forgive him.