Page 58 of Above ’N’ Beyond

Tony clapped his hands together. “We’re celebrating something else. Jimmy did good today. Real good. He’s one of us now. You still have more Pierazzuoli or Il Caggio?”

One of us now. Bella’s heart squeezed with disappointment. Whatever Jimmy had done must have been noteworthy enough to officially ingratiate himself into Paola and Tony’s organization. Whatever that something was, she didn’t doubt it was highly illegal.

In the end, she didn’t care what they were celebrating. The only things of any consequence were the logistics. “I don’t have enough waitstaff for a private party tonight.”

“Then you wait on us.” Paola waited for Tony to pull out a chair for her.

Her aunt had to be kidding. “You can’t just walk in here and order me around. When I said I don’t have enough people to serve you, I meant it.”

The back door of the Bistro slammed shut, and a few seconds later Jimmy returned. He shoved his hands in his pockets and leaned against the doorframe.

Paola threw her a look hot enough to scorch a cast iron pan. “I’ve had about enough of your attitude. There will be seven of us this evening. Make it happen.”

Heat flamed Bella’s face as she tried not to scream. Any lingering doubts about whether she’d done the right thing by placing those cameras flew out the window. “And have you finalized how many guests we’ll be serving next week?”

“Twenty-five,” Paola said. “Don’t forget, I want the most expensive items on the menu, plus a few other things I’ll have Bettina email you about. Top-shelf liquor and wine. Spare no expense.”

Bella crossed her arms. “With all the money you just deposited into the Bistro’s account, at least I’ll have money to pay for all that.” And the overtime. Even though the event was on a Monday when the Bistro was closed, an eight-course meal required all hands on deck, and she’d have to pay Lou and her sous-chef, Tom, extra to come in at least a day early to prep.

Paola unclipped her purse and took out her cell phone, summarily dismissing Bella.

With her hands fisted so tightly her blunt nails dug into her palms, Bella spun and walked to the door. Before leaving the room, she resisted the urge to look up at the potted silk ferns concealing the nearest puppy cam. As she brushed past Jimmy, her shoulder grazed the thick muscles of his arm.

“What are you doing?” he whispered harshly, his dark gaze full of censure.

Ignoring his question, she kept right on going, aiming straight for the bar. To hell with him. To hell with all of them. A shot of tequila sounded perfect right about now. Anything to quench the frustration burning a hole in her belly.

Sierra paused at the kitchen door, where she’d been talking to Lou. “Bella?” Her friend frowned. “Are you okay?”

“Fine,” she bit out, knowing Sierra would see right through her lame attempt to allay any concerns. Sierra had known her too long to buy it but also knew when Bella wanted to be left alone.

Luckily, the dining room only had a few early evening customers, and the bar was still empty. She reached for the top-shelf bottle of Patron, then grabbed a shot glass from beneath the bar. The second she uncorked the bottle, the tequila’s crisp, spicy aroma wafted to her nose.

“What did you do?” a deep voice growled.

Jimmy loomed over her. Ignoring him, she filled the shot glass then threw back the contents. She closed her eyes, letting the tequila burn a slow path down her throat to her belly.

“Bella?” The way Jimmy said her name, drawn out in a censuring tone, sounded more like Bell La. “Answer my question.”

Now that he was officially part of what Bella understood was unofficially dubbed the Mancuso Crime Family, she was in deep trouble.

She’d been a fool to think he could possibly be anything else and an even bigger fool to let him kiss her again.

She poured another shot, tossed it back, then locked gazes with Jimmy. “I’m doing what has to be done.”

If he ratted her out, so be it. She accepted the consequences. No matter how deadly.

Chapter Nineteen

“You need to stop this.” Jamie looked around the dining room, keeping his voice low. “You have no idea what you’re doing.”

“On the contrary.” Her eyes, so unlike that of her aunt’s and cousin’s, flashed with fire. “I know exactly what I’m doing. The only question is whether you’re going to do anything about it.”

Meaning, would he rat her out and tell Paola or Tony that she’d installed surveillance cameras in the private dining room. The same room where Paola was holding a special event next week for twenty-five guests. That kind of intel was important enough for him to notify Special Agent Jenkins.

“Well?” She thrust out her chin, daring him to dime her out.

“You’re playing with fire, and you could get hurt.” Or killed. Something that sat about as well with him as stepping on a land mine. “Paola Mancuso might be your aunt, but she’s dangerous and ruthless. You have no idea who you’re dealing with.”