Page 44 of Single Malt Drama
Nicolina
The emotional whiplashof the previous hours wore on me as I made my way toward the office. It bugged me that Marco hadn’t told me what had happened with Tara or the truth about his relationship, but if he had, we wouldn’t have shared that amazing kiss. A kiss that I couldn’t bring myself to regret, though I knew I should. Marco had behaved far too much like a mafioso for my tastes—even if he’d done it to save children.
The last thing I wanted to do was sit in on another conference call with the Marchionni boys, but I hoped I could piece together enough information to see the bigger picture. The Abruzzos were in New Orleans to take over—that much was clear. What I didn’t know was who, if anyone, in Sicily knew and supported their plans.
The brothers might not know it yet, but they needed me. I knew the players, the rules, and how to cheat better than they did.
Which is why Marco needs to keep me informed.
I walked into the room, nodded to Enzo and Shanna, and took a seat as far from the speaker phone as possible.
Papa Joe’s gravelly voice drew my attention. “This waitress. Will she make a statement about her involvement with Joe’s accident?”
“I spoke to her. She’s agreed to tell the police in exchange for you helping her start over.” Shanna glanced between Enzo and Marco and frowned.
Enzo took her hand. “He means, will she testify in Sicily, to the heads of the other families.”
“Oh…shit…maybe?” Shanna blushed.
I felt bad for her. I couldn’t imagine being thrown into the middle of a mafia war because I’d fallen in love with the wrong man. And despite her attempts to push him off on me earlier, I had no doubt she was in love with Enzo. Shanna had a lot to learn and a short time to do it.
Gabe said, “Tell her she’s going to speak to the Italian authorities, and in return, she’s getting a week vacation in the beautiful, sunny Palermo.”
Enzo frowned at the phone. “We’ll get the poison and the waitress on a plane as soon as the meeting is scheduled.”
Poison? What poison? Joe died in a car wreck.
Papa Joe said, “Good. Once the families know the Abruzzos tried to have our entire family eliminated they will have no choice but to retaliate.”
Marco must have seen my confused expression, because he moved to my side and whispered, “They ordered the waitress to poison the soup at Gabe and Maggie’s engagement party.”
I’d attended the event and remembered Enzo saying something about someone pouring acetone in the minestrone. I whispered, “Fingernail polish remover smells horrible. That’s more of a warning than an assassination attempt.”
“Tara didn’t go through with it. She panicked and poured acetone in the pot instead.” He sighed. “What they gave her could have killed or injured everyone at the party.”
The gravity of what he’d said hit me. “I was there, and so were Joe’s children. This cannot stand.”
All eyes turned to me. Even the phone line went quiet.
Oh no. No. No.
Marco swore under his breath. “If there’s nothing else, I smell Hildie’s sausage and mushroom quiche.”
“I’m going to catch a couple hours of sleep.” Enzo spoke louder than necessary.
Papa Joe cleared his throat. “Nicolina, is that you, dear?”
“Yes, I’m here.” My words came out shakier than I would have liked.
“I didn’t realize you were in New Orleans. There are quite a few people looking for you.”
I’d messed up. Big time. Rather than cower, I squared my shoulders and spoke in a calm, clear voice. “Your sons were lovely enough to allow me the use of the company jet and a temporary place to stay.”
I hated to threaten a terminally ill man, even if the threat was veiled, but I’d made my point. If Papa Joe blabbed to my father, the Marchionnis would face blow back.
“I’m glad to hear you’re safe.” His sickly-sweet tone hardened. “Make yourself at home. You’ll be one of the family soon.”
“Thank you, but I won’t be staying long.” I prayed he bought the lie. If it was a lie. Marco and I would need to rethink our plans now that more people knew my location.