Lacey Luzzi: Sprinkled: A humorous cozy mystery! (Lacey Luzzi Mafia Mysteries Book 1) (11 page)

When we pulled up in front of the post-college dwelling, Andrey didn’t even blink an eye.

“Welp, thanks!” I pulled the handle to swing the door open. It was locked. “Uh…”

“I’m not letting you go anywhere,” he said. His sweet smile contradicted his firm words. I was extremely confused. Was this guy one of the bad eggs? Or did he just not speak English very well and did not understand that trapping people in their car was kidnapping?

“Will you date me?” he asked.

“Go…
on
a date?” I asked.

“Yes. Date. With your hot buns.”

I smiled. I knew I shouldn’t. But when he said hot buns I just wanted to give him a squeeze and a kiss on the cheek. If that should lead to something else, well so be it. Plus, it could give me a one-of-a-kind insider’s perspective on the Russian mob. “I’d really like that.”

“Really?”

Before I could correct myself and tell him ‘Sorry, but I don’t date strange mobsters,’ he lifted my hand and kissed it gently. His lips were soft.

“I should go now,” I said, yanking my eyes from his.

“No.” His eyes darkened. He exited the car, walking around to the other side and pulling my door open. “Here you go.”

“Thank you,” I said. “You have such great manners. Most Americans believe chivalry is dead.”

He nodded, but it was obvious he didn’t understand a segment of what I’d said. Language barrier, I reminded myself. Chivalry was a three-syllable toughie.

“I’ll walk you up,” he said.

“No – that’s not necessary.” I freed myself from his grasp.

“Okay, then. I watch til you get safe inside. I stand here.”

“Perfect.” My pulse raced. “What a sweetheart.”

He smiled again and I walked towards the door. How I’d get inside, I had no idea. Even if Blake answered, how would I explain myself in two seconds, so that Andrey didn’t suspect it wasn’t my house?

I pounded on the door. Knowing Blake, he’d be on the verge of a hangover. It would take a herd of elephants to rouse him from bed.

I pounded again, offering a weak smile up to Andrey. I waved my fingers.

“Roommate,” I called back to the Russian. I shrugged my shoulders. “I left my keys at the bar… dumb mistake.”

He nodded with a patience I found rare in men.

I pounded again. “Blake, open up.”

My palms started to sweat as I open fist knocked on the crappy front door.

To my extreme relief, the lock clicked, and a shirtless, extraordinarily toned Blake stood before me. I shielded him from Andrey’s view as best I could. I definitely didn’t want Andrey to see him, not since we’d made a date seconds ago (for work, I reiterated to my brain).

“What are you, a sexy baby?” A slow smile spread across Blake’s face as he surveyed my matted, partially unzipped and thoroughly unattractive outfit.

I scowled. “There’s a man standing behind me, and if you don’t let me in he’ll kill us both.”

To my surprise, Blake let me right in. I turned and gave another tiny wave to Andrey. He blew me a kiss before roaring off in his spiffy little car.

“Wow, you believed me?” I tried to zip up the suit over my exposed chest, but the zipper snagged somewhere near my belly button.

“Well, as I don’t know anything about your life, why should I?” Blake stared at my chest. “Wouldn’t be the first time you lied to me.”

“Do you have a sweatshirt?” I refused to comment on his snarkiness. Blake and I had been compatible in every way: in bed, in the car, in the movie theater, in the tree in his backyard (that was once, and it’s a long story). We were also compatible outside of sex. He was cool on the outside but nerdy on the inside, just the way I liked my men. We’d had a wonderful two years and had even been talking engagement, but when he asked to meet my family, I couldn’t bring myself to introduce him.

Blake had met only one person from my family, and that was sweet ole’ Clay. I put my foot down anywhere past that. It wasn’t that I thought Blake would judge me or run away, it was just… my grandfather and caregiver was the head of the
Mafia
. Let’s just say I wasn’t quite sure how to make the introduction. And I really didn’t want to lose Blake.

Which, in retrospect, hadn’t worked out quite like I’d hoped. I’d been praying he’d be okay eloping and meeting my Family later, when he was stuck with me. It might have been a little sneaky, but I was certain I could’ve convinced him to understand my reasoning.

But then it’d all blown up in my face. Blake had broken up with me out of the blue after I refused to bring him with me to Nora’s birthday party. I’d told him I was going to my grandparent’s for lunch to celebrate her birthday, which was why I couldn’t do bottomless mimosas. And Blake – though a tough guy, was really sweet at heart – had shown up at my apartment at ten a.m. with a bouquet of flowers for my Grandma. I was just heading out the door.

He’d stared at me, and I remember the words he’d spoken. His eyes were firm but kind. He’d said, “Lacey, I love you. It’s been two years, but I can’t ask you to marry you if I don’t know your family. I’d love if I could meet them today. You know it won’t change how I feel about you, no matter how crazy they are.”

Just thinking of how I’d reacted made my stomach queasy with regret. If I could take it back, I would. I would say, “Of course, Blake. Come meet my family. Then you can see for yourself where I come from, and if you want to run after that, then I won’t blame you.”

What I
did
say, was nothing. Instead, I pushed passed him, the flowers scattering on the floor. I’d sprinted out to the crappy parking spot in front of the fire hydrant, back before the curb had been painted green by Clay, and I’d zipped off to Nora’s, tears streaming down my face.

I’d apologized later, but it was too late. By that time, Blake had already turned distant and unresponsive. We broke up the next day, and hadn’t spoken more than civil greetings (and the occasional
that’s it, baby,
post bar, drunken hookup). But I always left before the sun was up. And he didn’t ask about my Family anymore. And I didn’t tell.

Blake was still staring at my chest, as if lazily considering my request for a sweatshirt. “I have one. You can’t have it.”

“Fine. Bathroom?” I asked.

“You know where it is,” he said.

I walked down the hall glancing at the bachelor pad as I went. I would never admit it, but I was curious to see if there were signs of a new girlfriend; nail polish, tampons, mascara stained tissues (probably crying over how Blake loved his ex (me) more than them).

My search came to a halt as I reached the bathroom. A girl more naked than I stumbled from Blake’s bedroom directly across the hallway. Her shocking blue eyes tore scathing paths as she glanced at me from the bottom of my footies to the top of my stuck zipper.

“Oh, don’t worry about this,” I said, gesturing to myself. “You have nothing to worry about.”

“Oh, I’m not worried,” she said. She stood straight, her perfect body and perfect boobs displayed like she was modeling for portrait painting. “Are you one of his patients?”

“What? I thought Blake was unemployed.”

“No, he volunteers at a home for the mentally disabled. Some of them show up here once and awhile with a crush on him. It’s cute, if you ask me. All girls.” She touched my shoulder and smiled benignly.

“Uh, okay,” I said. “I just need to use the bathroom.”

“Do you need help?” Perky Boobs looked actually concerned.

“No. Gross.”

“Good girl,” she cooed. “Go on.”

I stared at her some more as I entered the bathroom. I did my business, washed up and refused to look in the mirror. I’m sure I looked like quite a sight after my debacle tonight.
Oh well, Perky Tits,
I thought.
I got asked on a date tonight looking like this. Must mean I have a personality, also.

Then I realized Andrey and I hadn’t exactly had a deep heart to heart conversation. What
was 
he after, anyway?

I rinsed my hands. Lacey - 0, Perky Boobs - 1.

And Blake – how many girls did he have coming over here that he had to make up some lame excuse about them being patients?

I emerged from the bathroom, pushing up my non-sexy bra and biting my lips a bit for some redness. I borrowed Blake’s phone while he made out with Perky Boobs, then waited awkwardly through a few phases of groping for Clay to arrive.

As I headed out the door, I thanked them both.

“I appreciate your services to the mentally handicapped,” I said as I shook Blake’s hand vigorously, while P.B. looked on curiously. “Excellent work, champ. This one you’ve got now…” I smacked my lips. “Winner.”

Blake’s face turned a brilliant shade of pink.

I smiled as I headed out to join Clay.

Lacey-1, Perky Boobs-1.

I’d settle for a tie.

Chapter 11

I stepped into Clay’s pimped out creeper-van and immediately covered my nose. He kept his eyes fixed on the road without looking in my direction.

“Why are you sweating so much?” I asked.

“No air conditioning,” he muttered, pulling away from the curb.

I turned towards the window, shielding my face from him and smiled. I felt a little bad I’d worried him so much, particularly when I hadn’t been especially terrified. And now
I
really
didn’t know how to break the news to him that I’d accepted a date with our nemesis/my kidnapper.

“I’m going to the gym in the morning. For real,” I said thinking of Perky Boob’s nice body.

He glanced my way and the van swerved from the road, running smack into a curb.

“Whoa,” I said, rubbing my head where it’d knocked the window. “No bumper cars today, I’m not in the mood.”

At the silence, I looked at Clay. His face was turning a violent shade of purple and a vein pulsed dangerously in his forehead. He alternated between staring at my nearly destroyed footy pajamas, still ripped open to my bra, and my surprised face.

“Which one of them bastards did this to you?”

“What?” I’d never seen my cousin so irate. “Did what, this?” I gestured towards my torn pajamas. “Nobody.”

He let out a noise like a low growl, and I was reminded of a terribly hungry, mean bear.

“Well, I mean I did. My zipper got stuck while I was peeing outside the Russian’s place. So I pretended to be drunk and Andrey offered to give me a ride home, but I didn’t know where to go, so I went to my ex’s place. You remember Blake? Yeah, I used his bathroom, and Perky Boobs, this girl… never mind. It’s a long story. Actually, Andrey and Blake really were both sympathetic. Blake is still sexy, in case you were wondering, and I’m actually going out on a date with Andrey.” I finished speaking extremely quickly and looked outside, noting the stares we were getting from the few late night stragglers out and about.

What’s creepier than a large white van on the street? A large white van that’s run up on the curb and lodged itself on someone’s front lawn.

After an incredibly awkward pause, I sneaked a peek at Clay. His mouth was dangling open as if a hinge on his jaw had busted and all color had drained from his face, leaving streaks of red down his now deathly white cheeks.

“You accepted
what
?”

“It’s part of the mission,” I grumbled. “He asked me out, and I thought it would be a great way to get to know him and find out his story. Maybe he’ll even invite me over and I can check out what was in that suspicious backpack of his,” I said lamely.

Clay was shaking his head like a robot, a blank look in his eyes. I sensed the fury he’d felt towards the men who’d supposedly wronged me was slowly changing targets, and I wanted to get out of that van as fast as possible. “Should we, uh, get off this nice woman’s curb?”

An older woman in a bathroom and curlers had wandered outside. She was fast approaching and shaking her fist as if going for the Yahtzee win.

Clay’s jaw tensed and latched shut as firmly as if it were wired in place. He reversed and the van shuddered and bounced from the curb, the woman hobbling after us like a competitive speed walker who’d misplaced her helmet for curlers. We lost her as we zoomed around the next corner.

A loud crash sounded from the back, and I wondered which of the expensive equipment pieces had shattered into oblivion. When Clay neither flinched nor looked backwards, my leg started to jitter with nerves.

“You. Will. Not. Date. Him,” Clay said. “Dating suspects is not allowed, and certainly not fraternizing with other Families. Can you imagine what Carlos would say?”

“If I told Carlos it was for the job,
he’d
be proud of me,” I retorted, feeling a little stung. It was nice Clay cared about me, but honestly it wasn’t like I was going to marry the guy. I was just finding out a little information – except instead of torture, I would use a little wine and (hopefully) sushi.

We drove in silence until we neared home.

“While you were off gallivanting with your boyfriends, I actually learned something,” Clay said.

I raised my eyebrows. “How?”

Clay gestured to the gadgets on his car. “Your boy Vadim made a phone call. Apparently they’re worried about a mole in their organization. They think one of their own is working for the cops since a recent shipment of theirs – couldn’t tell of what – was intercepted, and they couldn’t retrieve it. They showed up at the drop site, but a bunch of cops were there and ruined everything. Vadim thinks one of the Russians wants out, and the rat is going to the police with information so the Feds will put him into the witness protection program.”

I mulled this over. “Great work, partner. See? All made possible by my distraction.”

Clay grumbled something along the lines of ‘
would’ve found it out without you getting cozy with a Russian
,’ but I ignored it and looked out the window as we pulled in front of our shared apartment complex.

“Damn you,” he said. “You parked like an asshole.”

He whipped past the Kia, which admittedly was taking up more than its fair share of parking spaces.

“You’re right, I parked like a
huge
asshole. Now, you know how I feel thanks to your new baby,” I said happily, thinking of the short walk I’d have in the morning – when I got up to go to the gym, of course.