Page 2 of Harvest Maze

This wasn’t happening. No, no, no!

But the grotesque lump didn’t vanish.

“Why, hello there,” I croaked, because what else did one do when they saw such a cadaverous package? “You’re not the surprise I was looking for!”

My idea of having a porch for sitting purposes was for the living, not the dead.

I scratched my head and stared at the slumped mass of flesh. “Um, hi, yes, universe? When I wished for a man, he was supposed to be alive!”

There was no response from the beyond. It didn’t bother explaining why my wish manifested into a dead body on my cozy little front porch.

The phrase ‘be careful what you wish for’ took on a whole new meaning.

Swallowing hard, I hoped the neighbors hadn’t seen. The shrubs were large enough, that unless they were at the right angle, the good suburban folks of San Pietro Cove would drive by and not notice the garish offering.

“Who sent you?” I mused, inching closer.

Living in a town run by the mob meant those of us in the know developed thick skin. I didn’t appreciate the more gruesome aspects of the underworld, but very little shocked me these days. Especially since the Ravello Famiglia wasn’t your typical criminal organization. While other mobs and syndicates dealt in racketeering, money laundering, intimidation, and even drugs, the Ravellos were a special breed. They were guns for hire. Modern day assassins. Sometimes a mercenary force that turned the tide in other mafia wars if the price was right. They kept this little nook in New Jersey as their own hub, protecting the land around the Cove so they could train their army of mobsters in peace.

Using the solid end of the corn stalk, I lifted the slumped head. Rigor mortis had set in, and the double chin didn’t budge.

It was gross, and I didn’t want to get closer. This was exactly why I didn’t want to go to the haunted corn maze! Icky, macabre stuff wasn’t my thing, even if I did have thick skin.

But I had to do something!

As if things couldn’t get any worse, a sleek Mercedes careened around the corner of Via Manoppello and Via Corvara.

Well…crap.

Chapter 2 – Ivry

Ifluttered on the tips of my toes as the Mercedes pulled into my driveway. Without meaning to, I began to worry the edge of my finger. The man in the front seat glared at me from behind his sunglasses. I gulped.

And tore the sliver of skin.

Merda!

Picking my hangnails was a nasty habit.

And would you look at that? I was bleeding!

I sucked on the finger as the suave figure unfolded from the plush leather seats. Lucian’s hair was cut stylishly short on the bottom and longer on the top. He wore sleek expensive shades, and his three-piece bespoke suits were perfectly pressed no matter the time of day.

He was the worst.

A quick glance at his fingers, and I groaned. Neatly trimmed nails and cuticles. No geyser of blood from a nerve-induced bad habit. There was no way I could be a killer like him. I would leave blood all over the scene.

“Ivry Ravello! What are you doing?” the don demanded.

I popped my finger out of my mouth and planted my hands on my hips. “It’s the first day of fall.”

Lucian glanced at the sun, then the trees, and finally swiveled his shaded gaze back to me. I knew those dark eyes flashed under the glasses. His silly, quirky older cousin was already testing his patience.

The poor baby.

“We’re running an op. I need you,” he clipped out. “Time is of the essence. Drop what you’re doing and—”

He pulled his shades off, peering at my porch.