He doesn’t have to. I have a feeling I know exactly what’s about to go down at that nefarious club, and it has very little to do with women prancing around with next to nothing on.
I might be eager to make sure Verity Prescott’s killer gets their just desserts, but I have a feeling someone just as nefarious is about to try to do the same with my handsome husband.
Over my dead body, I say.
Let’s just hope the Grim Reaper sides with me on this one.
Everett
I debated coming here alone tonight—keeping Lemon in the dark.
But since keeping things from her last December, when I was busy trying to surprise her with the plans for our new home almost cost me my marriage, I’ve thought better of it.
It’s probably best this way, with Lemon and Noah here to witness my demise. And well, let’s not forget Carlotta. I don’t see why she shouldn’t witness the carnage either. But unfortunately, or rather fortunately for the three of them, they’re going to have to witness it from afar. I want to hear what Jimmy has to say on my own. This talk is going down man-to-man.
Red Satin Gentlemen’s Club is cloistered with bodies, some of which are scantily dressed, the other of which are three sheets to the wind, and tonight, at this late hour, there doesn’t seem to be much of an in-between.
The walls, the carpet, and the stage that bleeds out into the center of the room, all share the nefarious hue that’s embedded in the name. The lighting is dim and it smells like sex and greasy food, a combination I’m no stranger to.
“Lottie?” Meg does a double take as she looks our way and she belts out a laugh. Her dark hair is in a knot, and she’s just about the only woman here who looks as if she could step outside of this establishment and not get arrested for public nudity. “Let me guess. You hauled your boys out for a peep show because you’re too tired to host your own?”
“Very funny.” Lemon ticks her head back a notch. “Everett is here for a meeting.”
Meg’s mouth opens wide with surprise. “As if life wasn’t bad enough already, Judge Baxter.”
“That’s right.” Carlotta slaps me on the back. “Not only is he staring down the prospect of playing catch the soap, but now he’s gotta crawl over broken glass while Jimmy arranges to have his kneecaps busted.”
Lemon gasps, and I shake my head her way.
“No one is busting my kneecaps.” I offer her the shallow assurance.
I’m pretty sure messing with the corpse of a crime boss’ niece warrants something a bit more theatric in nature, like slowly immersing me into a vat of acid. One thing is for sure, Jimmy Canelli will try to get some mileage out of it. Offing a once reputable judge might just be the ticket he’s looking for in order to elbow his competitors out of the way when it comes to respect and credence.
Meg gives a bored blink. “Follow me, Judge Baxter.” She turns toward the crowd before her. “Dead man walking,” she shouts, and the crowd parts before her.
“Just a second,” I say, pulling Lemon into my arms. “Hang out here with Noah and Carlotta.”
“No,” she doesn’t hesitate to protest. “I can talk some sense into him.”
Carlotta steps in. “I’m the one you’re gonna need on your team, Sexy. Let’s face it. One look at what I got, and I’ll have Jimmy Canelli sending you home in a limo.”
“Try a hearse,” Noah doesn’t mix words. Not that he’s wrong. “I’m coming with you.”
“None of you are coming with me. Noah, buy Lemon something to drink. I’ll be fine.”
Meg leads the way, and we land at a table not too far from the stage where Jimmy himself is seated with a crowd of girls swarming him, wearing nothing but thongs and pasties.
No sooner do I take a seat than that harem of his takes note, and each one of them stops in their tracks as they sigh in my direction.
“Girls.” Jimmy snaps his fingers, and the women disperse like birds.
Jimmy Canelli has a thick head of silver hair, a well-fitted suit, and the smile you might give a dying man.
And to think, without the Canelli factor, tonight was shaping up to be darn right perfect. I will forever cherish Evie’s heartwarming words. And equally so, Lemon’s. We should be out together as a family, celebrating the wonderful jobs they did pouring their hearts out to a room full of strangers. Instead, I’m here about to have a new one ripped to me by a mob boss. I don’t remember my life being so filled with drama and trauma. I’d like to think it could only go up from here, but seeing the trajectory of the past few years, I’m not so sure.
“Judge Baxter.” He nods as he stares me down with those serious eyes. “Here we are, face-to-face. And you know who’s not here? My niece, Florenza Angel Face Canelli, God rest her soul. And if it weren’t for a ditch digging golden retriever, she wouldn’t be in a proper grave neither.” He sniffs hard. “How’s freedom suiting you?”
“I like the air out here.”
He chuckles, that intense stare of his never leaving mine.
“So why’d you do it?” His shoulders jerk. “I wouldn’t have figured you for a necromancer.”
“I’m not.”
“Again”—he rests his elbow on the table and leans in hard—“why’d you have to yank my niece out of the morgue? What did she ever do to you? Did the kid deserve to be tossed in a ditch? Where’s the justice in that?”
“There isn’t any.” I take a deep breath. “I’m afraid I don’t have any answers you want to hear.”
He continues with that dead stare. “So you did it.” He nods. “You realize now that you admitted it to my face, you’ve started a death train not even I can put a stop to.”
“He’s innocent!” Carlotta wails as she lands next to him in a heap. And within a hot second, both Lemon and Noah are ensconcing me on either side.
“I did it, Jimmy,” Carlotta confesses. “I had to do it. Flo’s ghost came back from the great beyond and made me. She wouldn’t let me get a wink of rest until I yanked her body from that filing cabinet they had her in, and then I buried her in Foxy’s backyard.”
“Good grief.” Lemon sinks in her seat a notch, and I’m tempted to do the same.
Jimmy pulls back to get a better look at the woman by his side, and judging by that look on his face, he’s convinced she’s nuts.
“First, you choose Luke over me and now this, Cadillac?”
Noah leans in a notch toward Lemon. “What’s with Cadillac?”
Lemon shakes her head. “It’s Carlotta’s mob nickname.” She gives a measured blink. “You don’t want to know.”
Carlotta gags and sputters. “Luke Lazzari took me to a back alley and plied me with cheap whiskey. What did you ever do for me other than tell me I had the face of an angel and eyes you could see our happily ever after in? You treated me like a kitten. That man treated me like a junkyard dog, rough and rowdy, tossing me a bottle of the good stuff when I sat up and begged. All you ever gave me were diamonds, fancy dinners, and the promise of a beachfront vacation home in Sicily.”