Page 20 of Above ’N’ Beyond

Paola tilted her head, a shrewd look coming over her features as she assessed Jamie from head to toe.

“I’m bartending here for a while.”

“Bartending?” Tony’s brows shot to his hairline. “My cousin never hires anyone I like.”

“So I heard,” Jamie said.

Beside him, Paola snorted.

Marco’s eyes narrowed to slits, the same as they’d done when Tony had insisted Bella let Jamie stay in her vacant apartment. Something was brewing behind Marco’s glare, something he had to be cautious of. The man didn’t like him, that much was clear. Since they didn’t know each other, he guessed at the cause.

Bella.

The guy must have a thing for her. Jamie would bet his last bullet on that, but he had yet to see those feelings returned.

“You’ve got the gift, my man.” Again, Tony subtly patted down Jamie’s back. “This is my mother, Paola Mancuso.”

Jamie knew the protocol and waited for her to make the first move. For a long moment she said nothing, continuing to eye him intensely, as if she were dissecting his brain. When she finally extended her hand, he took a chance. Gently, and with due courtesy to her stature as head of the Mancuso Crime Family, he took her hand, then leaned over and lightly kissed the backs of her fingers. “A pleasure.” Their gazes locked, and he held his breath.

Go big or go home. Right? She’d either love it or smack him upside the head with her purse.

Paulie spit out a sunflower seed shell on the floor. “Oh shit,” he whispered under his breath.

Paola’s eyes flared and remained that way for a long moment, one so long Jamie was sure he’d blown it. Then her face pinkened, and a corner of her lipstick-reddened lips lifted and she chuckled. “I can see why my niece hired you. You’re not only handsome as sin, but you’re a charmer as well.”

“Damn, Fist.” Tony nudged him. “I’ve said it before. You’re one ballsy sonofabitch.”

“You saved my son’s life. For that, I’m grateful, and I thank you.” With a flourish, Paola waved her arm and began walking through the dining room, straight past the bar. “Bella?” she called out as Bella walked in. “Bring two bottles of the Pierazzuoli Chianti and seven glasses.” Without waiting for a response, she continued down the hall past the kitchen.

“Wait!” Bella rushed after her. “Paola, I’d like to speak with you.”

Without turning, Paola again waved her hand, this time in a dismissive gesture. “Not now.”

“When?” Bella shouted back, but her aunt ignored her and unlocked the door to the private banquet room. Apparently, Paola also had a key to that room.

“C’mon, Fist.” Tony gripped Jamie’s shoulder, urging him forward as he ran his hand down Jamie’s back yet again. “You got a phone on you?”

“Yeah.” Jamie nodded.

“Leave it behind the bar,” Tony said casually.

Casual my ass.

In Sing Sing, Jamie had taken a blade for Tony, but he still wasn’t a completely trusted member of the Mancuso organization.

With Tony watching, Jamie slipped out his phone and tucked it under a ledge beneath the cash register. When he turned, Bella sent him a look hot enough to melt off a tattoo. If he had one. He was supposed to be tending bar, and on his first day of work was ditching his duties without a second thought. Chumming with Paola took priority. He was about to dip his foot into the shallow end of the Mancuso inner sanctum, and he needed to do everything within his power to wade in deeper. Even if it meant incurring Bella’s wrath.

A few minutes later, they were all seated around a table in the Bistro’s private meeting room. Sierra had brought the wine and glasses, then left and closed the door.

“To Jimmy.” When Paola raised her glass, everyone else did the same, waiting for her to take a sip before they did. It was like watching royalty hold court. Everyone took their cues from the queen.

Marco Ianetti was the only one who didn’t drink.

“Now,” she said, setting down the glass. “Let’s talk business.”

Jamie listened to the men’s round table discussion of one scam or petty theft after another they had running to bring in money. That’s what working for the Mafia was all about. To get in good, you either earned for the family, or you killed for it. As a deputized federal agent, murder was off the books.

Everything Jamie had just heard was small potatoes. Paola wasn’t stupid, of that much he was certain. He’d saved her son’s life, but unless he earned his keep, she would never trust him enough to bring him all the way into her sanctum and clue him in on whatever “big splash” she was planning. What he needed was something big, and he needed it fast.