Baby Bundt Cake Confusion (Murder in the Mix Book 31) Unknown (good beach reads .txt) 📖

And as my dumb luck, or twisted fate, or my misfortune would have it, the Hideaway just so happens to be owned and operated by Domenico, aka Dom.

It also happens that Scooter Springs sits just above Starry Falls where my friend Bowie Binx lives. In fact, she was with me the last time I was at the Hideaway. She’s had just about as much trouble with the mob as I have, or more if I’m honest.

Bowie is transmundane like me, but she’s sibylline, which means she gets jolted every now again with a sneak peek of the future. Unfortunately for her, she doesn’t always get the details right and it has a tendency to land her in a pickle now and again.

Speaking of pickles, I pluck one out of my purse as I stare over at Noah Fox and wonder how long he plans on keeping this secret from me. I may be having a baby, but I wasn’t born yesterday. Everett is in trouble, and he doesn’t want to alarm me.

Once we arrive, a thought hits me just as we’re getting out of the car.

“Noah,” I hiss and pull him aside as the rest of our party hoots and hollers their way inside. “There’s something you should know about this place.” Everett pops up before I can finish, and he looks like a dream with his dark hair slicked back and his hard blue eyes that look downright angry at the world. I nod his way. “The Hideaway is owned by Jimmy Canelli’s youngest son, Dom. And he just so happens to be best friends with Enzo Lazzari, Luke’s youngest son. Unlike their fathers, they’re close friends. They’re having to put in a little more work on that whole rivalry thing, but they’re determined to get there. Word on the mean streets of Scooter Springs is they’re looking to turn this town into the junior version of Leeds.”

“Great.” Noah shoots a dirty look to the establishment before us. “This should be exciting.”

Everett’s eyes widen a notch. “Yes, I think it will.”

The Hideaway sits inside a large building with a crumbling Roman façade. Inside, it’s loud and boisterous with bodies clogging its every orifice. The floors and furniture are stained a dark shade of espresso, the tables are covered with white linen, and there’s a stage up front with a live band crooning Sinatra’s greatest hits. But it’s the hypnotic scent of simmering tomato sauce, garlic layered just underneath, and fresh baked bread that takes over our senses. I think we’ve died and gone to amazing Italian food heaven.

Everett manages to secure us an elongated table somewhere in the middle of the melee, and once we’re seated, the blonde waitress, no nametag, with puckered lips and huge knockers, who hasn’t stopped flirting with Noah and Everett since we stepped through the door, lets us know there’s a dual bachelor/bachelorette party happening at the moment.

“Friends of the owner.” She shrugs. “What are you gonna do?”

“The owner?” I tip my ear her way. “I happen to know him. Is Dom around tonight?”

“Around tonight? Are you kidding?” She squirms for a moment in her tight French maid’s uniform that all the waitresses seem to be sporting here. That sounds about right as far as the Canellis go. Women are sexualized and men are used for target practice. No wonder my friend Bowie wanted out of that lifestyle. She once indulged in a few dicey dealings for a mob family that’s now defunct. “Dom wouldn’t miss this for the world. The groom is his good friend, Manny—Mannino Moretti.” Her eyes slit toward the bar when she says his name.

Moretti?

Noah, Everett, and I exchange a look. The very reason the three of us snatched Florenza Canelli’s body from the morgue was to stop a huge interstate mob war between the New Jersey Moretti family and the Vermont Canellis and the Lazzaris. I’m not sure how that three-way nightmare was playing out, who had allegiance to whom, but as it turned out, we didn’t stop anything. Flo bamboozled us, and now she’s off frolicking in paradise with dead mobsters while Everett endures hell on earth, and I endure it, too, by proxy.

“I know that look, honey,” Carlotta says to the waitress as Keelie and my sisters seem to be carrying on a conversation of their own. “He’s an old ex of yours, isn’t he?”

Carlotta may not be keen on a lot of things, but she seems to have a radar when it comes to spotting an angry and bitter heart. It’s sort of her forte, an added supernatural ability, if you will.

“You bet he is.” The blonde snorts. “Manny and I go way back. He’s sunk his teeth into Bianca Russo for now, but don’t think for a minute they’ll actually get hitched. He likes to promise the moon and deliver gravel from the back alley instead. Nice party, though.” She shrugs.

I lean in as far as my belly will allow, and sure as heck fire, another one of those demonic Braxton Hicks contractions hits me.

“So you’re telling me”—a low groan comes from me as it hits its peak and my cheeks grow hot as I struggle to breathe my way through it without anyone noticing— “Dom gets along with Manny Moretti? Aren’t they, you know, sworn enemies?”

“Ha!” She belts out a laugh. “I suppose they are, but this is second gen stuff. They’ve rewritten the rules. They save the war for the battlefield and break bread with the enemy at dinnertime. It’s a new world. Actually, there are three families represented here tonight.” She points to the bar. “Dom, Enzo, and Manny.”

We look in that direction, and there’s the roll call of who’s who as far as the mob’s younger set is concerned. I gasp as I spot the fourth man with them. I recognize that shock of dark hair and the stubble dotting his cheeks.

“And who’s that fourth guy with them?” I ask, pretending that I don’t have a clue it’s the very suspect