Page 91 of Above ’N’ Beyond

Bella’s chest tightened. Some of the most dangerous mobsters in the country were right here, and she was serving them dinner.

The goon squad made Tony and his boys look like the junior varsity team. Tony sat at the table nearest to Paola’s, talking with a man she didn’t know. As Tony’s lieutenant, Marco might have been at her cousin’s right hand, but he was a no-show, probably still in FBI clutches. Jamie was also nowhere in sight, although she’d caught glimpses of him patrolling the sidewalk with Paulie.

The fact that Paola hadn’t snapped Bella’s neck, as Jamie had warned she would, meant they hadn’t found the puppy cams. She’d have to sneak back into the Bistro after everyone left, then remove the sim cards and hide them in a safe place. Not in her house. Jamie would find them. He was a cop. Cops didn’t miss anything.

The moment she set down the plates of bruschetta, a snapping sound caught her attention. She looked around the crowded room, following the sound to the head table. Paola held her arm in the air, snapping her fingers and glaring at Bella.

Bella ground her teeth, then wound her way to Paola’s table. I really am her slave.

“More wine,” Paola ordered when she was within earshot.

By wine she meant the Il Caggio. Nothing but the best for The Godmother.

On the way from the room, Bella noticed another man with gray hair and distinguished sideburns standing in the corner and guarding a large, hard-sided briefcase she hadn’t noticed earlier.

At the bar, she uncorked two more bottles of legitimate Il Caggio for Paola and stuffed the corkscrew in her pocket. She placed the bottles on a tray, then brought them to her aunt’s table. As she refilled glasses, she caught sight of Lori and Rebecca serving plates of salad, while Sierra refilled everyone’s bread baskets. From her perspective, they all deserved a bonus for showing up at the crack of dawn to help her and Lou prep the food and set all the tables.

Paola cleared her throat, then hitched her head, indicating Bella should leave them. Doing her best not to smash the empty bottle over her aunt’s skull, she left, heading straight for the back door, intending to go outside and get some fresh air. Through the open screen door, she glimpsed Nicky and Sammy standing guard outside. There’d be no privacy there. In fact, there was only one place where she might actually get some.

Moments later, she pushed open the door of the ladies’ room, locking it behind her. She rested her hands on the vanity and sighed. Paola had just dismissed her as if she were no more important than a bug that had flown into her windshield. Not her niece, and not the forty-nine percent owner of the Bistro.

What had she been thinking?

Paola was dining with one of the most powerful and deadliest mobsters to walk the earth, and here she was—little Bella Bianco—planning on blackmailing the woman.

I must be out of my mind.

She pulled her phone from the pocket of her skirt and cued up the puppy cams. For several minutes, she watched the live images and listened to the chatter. After closing the app, she squeezed her eyes tightly shut.

Jamie was right. One way or the other, the Bistro would be taken from her. Ironically, Jamie and Paola held all the power and all the control. At least one of them would kill her dream and take her beloved bistro, and there was nothing she could do to stop it.

The one thing she could control was how that would happen. Holding back the sob rising in her throat, she texted the information, then hit send.

The stall door squeaked open. In the mirror’s reflection, a man rushed from the stall.

And clamped a hand over her mouth.

…

Jamie popped open the top button of his shirt, loosened his tie, then stuck two fingers behind the collar and pulled it away from his neck. Paulie had already taken off his tie and stuffed it in his pocket.

As a precaution, Jamie had wanted his partner there when the FBI showed up. Jax sat beside him, attracting attention from everyone who passed.

Nyack was busy with people coming and going from the other restaurants on Main Street and peeking in the windows of the many antique stores and boutiques that were closed down for the night.

Traffic through the intersection of Main and Broadway was a never-ending flow of BMWs, Audis, and Mercedes searching for parking spaces. All the spots in the vicinity of the Bistro were taken up by limousines and town cars.

Jamie recognized some of the men who’d gone inside, although most he didn’t know by name. Except for three who made up the Palumbo Administration, the top-level management.

Salvatore Palumbo—the boss. Donato Impellizzeri—the underboss. And Dominick Escalanto—Palumbo’s consigliere. A good mob boss never attended a big sit-down without his lawyer. The rest of the crew was most likely capos, lieutenants, and other made guys.

Three of the men flanking Palumbo and Impellizzeri as they’d gotten out of their limos could only be one thing. Enforcers, specializing in vicious acts of violence, and Jamie hadn’t missed the telltale bulges. These guys were all heavy—packing guns beneath their jackets. Luckily, no one had picked up on the one at Jamie’s ankle where he’d strapped on the old revolver his father had given him.

Paulie spit a sunflower seed shell onto the sidewalk. “Think there’ll be any food left over when everyone clears out?”

“Probably.” Food was the last thing on Jamie’s mind. If all went well tonight, proceedings could begin first thing Monday morning to get his dad paroled.

Before heading over to the Bistro, Jenkins had contacted Jamie. The raid teams were in place, ready to go on Jamie’s signal. Jenkins had also received updated information on Signors Bruno, Gallo, and De Luca, the other three impersonators Paola had smuggled into the U.S.