Page 3 of Harvest Maze

I winced.

His question trickled out like molasses pouring from a chilled bottle. “Is that a body?”

“Why, yes, it is,” I said brightly. “One of your goons has a twisted sense of humor. That was not on my Amazon birthday wish list.”

“Ivry.” His voice was chilly. “Why is there a body on your front porch?”

“I don’t know!” I wailed. “It just showed up!”

Lucian folded his sunglasses. The calm was just a façade. I knew him well enough to recognize that on the inside, his hot Italian temper was boiling him alive. “We can’t have bodies lying around. That’s bad for business.”

Was he seriously scolding me right now? The nerve of this man! I used to change his poopy diapers.

“Well, I don’t think any of the muggles saw it,” I muttered.

His eyes narrowed at my joke. “The last thing we need is a local—or worse, a tourist—noticing.”

My finger stung, and I realized that I was rubbing the torn piece of skin unconsciously making the hangnail bigger. The bite of pain coupled with his condescending attitude made my own temper flare.

“I freaking agree! It’s not funny, and I don’t appreciate whichever one of your goons left it,” I replied hotly.

Lucian’s left brow lifted slightly. It was like the great beast of a man was finally getting it through his thick skull that I was just as much an unwilling participant in this as he was.

“I’ll have a team come take care of it,” he sighed. “But we really need to get going. It’s almost midnight in Zabaykalsky Krai.”

A federal subject of Russia…which meant some bad guy was hiding there and the Ravello Famiglia had been hired to take them out.

“Why can’t Drusilla run the op?” I demanded, knowing already that it was a losing battle. He wouldn’t bother me if his sister was available.

Lucian’s lips thinned. “Drew is in Manhattan for the week.”

At least he sounded annoyed at the absence of his sister. The mafia princess was probably shopping.

“Tell her she owes me,” I sniped and turned back to my cottage for my phone and purse. “I want a big, expensive birthday present, Lucianus!”

My cousin’s growl at the use of his christened name should have been a warning.

I didn’t care.

It was my day, dammit. And the needs of the famiglia were ruining my perfect plans. It wasn’t like I could refuse, though. That would mean leaving a poor assassin out there without backup. If something bad happened, it would be on me. And it wasn’t like they were doing this on purpose. They probably saw an opportunity and contacted the home base to arrange the kill.

When I came back outside, Lucian was squatting before the body. He had one of my corn stalks in his hand and was prodding the corpse.

“Who is he, Ivry?”

I sucked on my finger, my tongue pushing at the hangnail, and crouched next to the don. The scent of Clive Christian No. 1 tickled my nose. I had to hold my breath not to sneeze at the bougie cologne.

“Mama mia!” I squeaked, peering at the unstaring eyes of the body.

“You recognize him?”

Nodding weakly, I felt my stomach finally churn. It was the cologne which blended with the faint scent of decay.

“It’s the asshat who wouldn’t stop pestering me at the bar for Thirsty Thursday!” I wheezed, scuttling back and plugging my nose.

Lucian turned on his heels, still crouched, and glared up at me. “And someone took it upon themselves to leave his corpse for you?”

I shrugged. “Start talking to your guys, Lucianius.”