I shoot Flo a look. “You would be surprised by the things you’re not seeing.” I turn back her way. “Tell me, Donata. What exactly is it that made you distrust Flo? I mean, my best friend and I go way back, but it doesn’t mean we always get along.” Okay, so that’s a lie. Keelie and I almost always see eye to eye, and when we don’t, I don’t hold it against her when she’s wrong.
“Fine.” Donata gives a quick glance back at the Ruthless Witches. “I don’t mind telling you because every now and again I like to vent a little. Flo took my older brother, Antonio, for a ride.” Her brows conjoin at the center as she leans in. “And now he’s in the pen doing serious time.”
I glance to the guilty among us, and Flo tosses up her hands.
“Please.” Flo glares over at her once upon a bestie. “He shouldn’t have pretended he was a pro.”
“A pro?” I practically mouth the words.
Donata nods. “Oh yeah. Flo was a pro at manipulation. She did her best to seduce my poor brother, and then when he couldn’t give her the expensive things she wanted, she told him to get creative.”
My mouth falls open. “What did she want? Purses? Shoes? Pricey hair products?”
“No.” She wrinkles her nose. “None of those things. She wanted jewelry. She wanted an expensive watch, too. A Rolex. So he broke into a local jewelers and took what he thought she’d want. And when he was confronted with a security guard on his way out, he drew his gun. It was labeled a violent crime. He got a decade in the slammer.”
“He’ll be out in three years, and she knows it,” Flo grouses right in the girl’s face. “And I never asked him to get caught!” She hops as she screams the words in her old friend’s face.
Donata shakes her head. “It’s as if I could hear her shouting that she never asked him to get caught.”
I glance down to make sure we’re not touching. It’s happened before and caused quite the kerfuffle.
Donata shrugs. “She’s said it before.” She squints out past my shoulder, straight into the past. “This is going to sound terrible, but sometimes, I’m not all that sorry she’s gone. She never apologized for what she had Antonio do. It really showed me that I didn’t know Flo at all. He’s my brother. If someone so much as looked at one of her brothers, she would’ve poked our eyes out. But mine loses ten years.”
“And what about me?” Flo riots into the girl’s face. “What about what I lost, Donata? I’m not coming back in ten years or twenty, or fifty! What about that? Ask her, Lottie. Make her take back what she said about me.”
I shudder. “I get it.” I nod to Donata. “And Flo, well, she’s never coming back.”
Donata closes her eyes a moment. “Some people might be safer because of it.”
Just listening to her response takes my breath away.
“I’m sorry.” Tears come to her eyes, and she blinks them back as the girl at the register calls us to attention and Donata steps up to give her order.
“Flo,” I say it lower than a whisper. “Does Donata carry a gun?”
“Oh, hon, we all do.” She flicks her dagger-like crimson nails my way. “It’s a requirement if you want to hang with the Ruthless. If you can’t shoot ’em, you sure as heck can’t scare ’em.”
“Right,” I whisper as I watch Donata laugh with the girl behind the counter.
Once it’s my turn up at bat, I put in my order and ante up before heading back to the suspect at hand.
“Donata”—I offer a mournful smile—“who do you think could have done something like this to Flo?”
Her head jerks back. “I have no clue.” She swallows hard as if maybe she does. “But who knows? There were a lot of people there that night. Who’s to say she was the intended target?”
Flo shakes her head. “I don’t know, Lottie. Donata Diamante is looking mighty guilty to me.”
Me too, but I keep my commentary to myself.
We collect our drinks and head back to the table.
“Perfect timing.” Lorena snaps her fingers in my direction. “We were just talking about the funeral. Before I forget, we moved it up to Tuesday afternoon. Kenicky’s had a cancelation and asked if I wanted to move it up, so I grabbed the chance.”
“Wait a minute.” Flo turns her head and gives her bestie the side-eye. “How is she gonna have a proper shindig for me if the boys are off conducting business?”
That’s right, the turf war.
“Lorena?” An entire flood of words begs to rush my lips, but I’m right back to biting my lip to temper them. “I thought I heard someone say something about a big party at the flower shop on Tuesday.” I snap my fingers at Carlotta. “Was it Cadillac?” I don’t mind throwing Cat Canelli under the bus for the sake of Noah’s safety.
“Ooh,” Lorena stretches the word out as she puts the mobster pieces together. “Actually, that party at the flower shop had to get rescheduled, too. Funerals take precedence with the family.” She presses out a manufactured smile.
“She’s not wrong,” Flo is quick to vouch for her friend’s words.
“So when’s the party at the flower shop?” I ask, breathless.
Lorena and Donata exchange a quick glance.
Lorena looks my way. “It’s going down right now.” She picks up a cannoli and holds it up as if she was toasting all of us.
“Saluti!” she shouts, and the rest of the table snaps up a delectable dessert and echoes her sentiment.
But I don’t saluti anything. I hightail it to the door and call Noah, but there’s no answer. I text him next, and he doesn’t respond.
I call Everett, and he picks up on the second ring.
“Lemon.” He breathes hard into the line.
“Oh, Everett, it’s terrible. Noah is in big trouble.”
“I just heard the news.”
“You did?”
“Yes, Lemon. Noah was shot.”
Chapter 17
I sent him into a bloodbath.
He saw Cormack head into the building and went after her. And as my bad luck or the Hearst curse, or rotten timing in general would have it, bullets started flying. Ten of Lazzari’s guys were hit, four Canellis injured, and two Morettis are dead. Nicky Knuckles wasn’t one of them.
A few months back, Carlotta and I were caught up in a Lazzari shootout at their warehouse affectionately known as the Butcher Shop. Noah and his mob task force happened to be conducting a sting, and a bullet grazed him while he was trying to save me. Apparently, trying to rescue Cormack was a far riskier endeavor because he took a bullet this time.
Carlotta drove me to the hospital, right here in Leeds, and Everett pulled up at the same time we did.
It takes some shouting and general panic, but eventually we’re led into a room where we find Noah sitting up in a bed, bare-chested with his arm wrapped loosely in a sling.
“Noah!” I scream his name out as I lunge for him, and my entire body bucks with grief as I hold him. I rub my lips against his cheek as I all out sob and take in his woodsy scent. For a brief moment, I wondered if I would ever know it again. “I’m sorry. I did this. I’m so sorry.”