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My jaw clenched. As I walked to the counter and placed an order for an espresso, I scanned the interior. Strands of garland perfumed the space with a crisp, woodsy scent that melded with the rich burst of coffee. A Douglas fir stood against the far wall, adorned with black and gold ornaments. At the table beside it, sat a man with a Bill’s ballcap, hunched over his mug.
He was the only person sitting alone, taking up a four-top table, while every other table was overflowing with customers sipping chestnut, peppermint, or sugar cookie drinks.
I settled across from my brother, angled to watch the stranger.
“He’s holed up at Il Colosseo,” Giuseppe said quietly.
Despite its grand name, the motel was nothing more than a forty-dollar a night eyesore, halfway between Trenton and the Cove. The only reason we hadn’t torn it down was because it was always full of tourists who came to town on low budgets. The motel also beckoned to seedy souls, who weren’t familiar with the town’s operations—just like this guy. They thought they could stay just outside our town, fly under the radar, and we wouldn’t notice.
We always knew who was here. Sometimes, it just took a little patience.
“Name?” I asked after sitting down.
Giuseppe spun his empty cup around on its saucer. “The room is rented under Russo.”
I stilled. “Russo?”
My brother nodded.
Well…this was an interesting turn of events. I studied the loner from the corner of my eye. He wasn’t supposed to be alive, let alone in our town.
What am I going to do with you…hmm?
Our older cousin chose that minute to bring over my drink.
“Your suits are ready to be picked up, you know,” Ivry declared, brow arched.
I ground my molars. My third cousin twice removed had the worst timing.
“Sam said she would pick mine up,” Giuseppe said with a grin. “She knows I’m working.”
Ivry poked his shoulder. “Or you could walk your ass across the street, grab your suit, and cross one thing off the wedding to-do list.”
“I already got married!” my brother protested. “Why are you nagging me?”
Ivry planted her hands on her hips and gave us a stern look. “This is a big deal for me. It’s my turn next weekend, and everything will be perfect or so help me, you two will pay.”
She was lucky we hadn’t run her Eastern European fiancé out of town. But Ivry was the one most likely to end up an old maiden aunt with too many cats. I couldn’t be that mad at her, plus we needed her in our good graces because she was our back-up computer wizard when my materialistic sister decided to jet off for random shopping trips or spa retreats. Unlike Drusilla, Ivry was reliable.
Not to mention the ex-assassin who planned to spend the rest of his life with her would burn the roof over our heads if we upset her.
“I’ll get my suit this afternoon,” I grumped in an attempt to please the little witch.
Ivry grinned. “A Ravello Christmas party this Saturday night, then a Ravello wedding the next. We are just taking up the social calendar for December!”
Giuseppe groaned and drug a hand through his hair. “I can’t wait till Christmas is over.”
“Oh, stop it, or Babbo Natale will only bring you coal,” Ivry chirped.
“If there’s nothing else, we’re busy,” I said coolly.
Our older cousin rolled her eyes but wisely turned around and skipped away. Her lithe, pixie form disappeared behind the counter, happily getting back to work.
“So…Russo,” I murmured.
Giuseppe nodded, flicking a glance to the Buffalo Bill’s fan. The loner was growing agitated, checking his phone and shifting in his seat.
She’s not coming, stronzo.
