Chupafoot.
“I don’t know what you’re thinking, but stop freaking yourself out!” Katy yells from her hiding spot inside the little church on the north side of Pelican Bay.
Sunday morning this place sounded like a great location for a public meeting with a mobster. It’s bright, sunny, there’s churchgoers. Tuesday night at eleven pm when the entire town is deserted, it doesn’t feel like such a great idea anymore.
Frankie insisted on meeting me himself and because he was out of town for two days, we had to push back our meeting until now. This was the first time he was available. Otherwise I never would have agreed to it.
I still shouldn’t have agreed to it.
The spotlight on the lighthouse circles, casting weird shadows against the trees and old crumbling gravestones next to the church.
Worst idea ever.
At least Katy and Tabatha are hiding out in the church in case anything goes wrong. I may have told Frankie to come alone, but that didn’t mean I planned to. He’s a pretty bad negotiator for a mob boss.
Lights bounce off my shirt. The brightness in contrast to the dark I’ve been surrounded by forces me to shield my eyes. For a split second I tense and wish it was Bennett pulling his truck into the small church parking lot, even if it means he’s discovered our plans and will most certainly yell at me. But we haven’t spoken in two days and the lights are too low to belong to a truck. The vehicle inches closer and comes to stop when the Jaguar emblem on the hood is visible.
Definitely not Bennett.
The lights turn off and I lower my hands. My stomach clenches in fear. Maybe we should have given more thought to bringing the shotgun Katy mentioned. There’s a possibility I could have stuffed it in the large tote bag I’m using to keep the twenty thousand safe. It’s a cute little canvas tote with a bright pink glitter unicorn on the side.
Way too happy and big for me to cart around two small stacks of money, but I didn’t have many choices.
Everything I own is pink.
I shouldn’t get my hopes up for even a second on the belief Bennett will come to my rescue. I talked myself into this horrible situation, so now it’s up to me to get myself out of it. Not talking to him for the past few days has been rough. I mean sure he’s come into the bakery to grab something every day. A coffee, turkey sandwich, or cookies for Liam. But our exchange is nothing more than a few grunts and a thank you here and there. Once he has his stuff he’s out the door without looking back. It’s like we didn’t have a few whirlwind days together. I’m just the girl who runs the bakery.
When you take me into your house and introduce me to your child and let me fall in love, I expect you to put up a little bit more of a fight. But not Bennett. Every time he sees me he acts like everything is fine, but everything is not fine. I see his handsome face and I get angry. It’s so unlike me, but each time he walks into the bakery I want to yell at him for being so stupid and letting me get away.
But I know what would happen. I’d end up on the seven o’clock phone tree update. So rather than become town gossip, I smile and hand over his coffee without accidently spilling it on him. Pearl watches every exchange like a hawk. I’m surprised she hasn’t started carrying around a journal to take notes.
Bennett, on the other hand, probably doesn’t care at all. Which makes it hurt so much more. How can I miss him so much my heart breaks as each minute passes, but he has no idea? He’s walking around, breathing air like each breath doesn’t burn.
A car door shuts. It’s too late to back out now. All the deep breathing in the world won’t get me out of this one. With one last breath and a hand on my pepper spray, I brace, ready to meet with a notorious mobster.
I expect an old man with a cane, a long cigar hanging out of his mouth. Someone who belongs on the set of a Godfather movie.
But Frankie Zanetti is anything but. He’s tall, almost as tall as Bennett. Dark brown hair falls to the side in a casual look. It’s the kind of hairdo that suggests he fell out of bed looking that way, but we all know there’s lots of gel to help make it look perfect.
“Ms. Curtis, you are even more stunning in person.”
“Um… When have you seen me not in person?”
Frankie laughs the same sound from our phone conversation.
“That is not important. So why a church, Ms. Curtis?” He turns to take in the old white building.
“You can call me Anessa.” Oh. My. God. I told a mobster he could call me Anessa.
“Well then, Anessa, I am here. Let’s go for a walk. I followed your directions of coming to our meeting alone, yet you did not trust me to do the same. Unless your two friends are hiding in the church for some late night praying.”
I freeze. “How did you know?”
“I make it my business to know what goes on in many towns along the coast.”
Something snarky comes to mind but only Katy would have the woman balls to say it, so I keep my mouth zipped.
There’s a trailhead at the end of the old church cemetery and Frankie walks in that direction. I follow a step or two behind him. His stride is long and I’m forced to walk faster to keep up since he doesn’t slow his step like Bennett does whenever we’re together.
