Page 11 of Tasting Sin

“It’s me,” I agreed with a slight shrug. Judging by the way she straightened her back and puffed out her chest, I assumed she was the one behind the spicy moniker. “Whatever that means.”

Ava cleared her throat, replacing the customer service smile on her face. It looked more forced, almost scared. “Sorry, that was rude of me. What can I do for you?” She blushed, and her hands twitched against the counter. When she swallowed, she looked almost threatened. Was she more scared than she was letting on?

“I’d like to talk to Nellie.” I looked over her shoulder toward the back of the bakery, trying to steal a glance of her.

She shook her head. “She’s not here.”

“Where is she?” I asked, and Ava leaned back slightly. She narrowed her eyes, glaring suspiciously for a second and pursing her lips like she was stuck in a deep thought.

“I shouldn’t tell you that,” she finally said, reaching for one of the cupcake boxes. I knew there was a line of people starting to form behind me—I had heard the bell ring more than once. It wouldn’t be long before Ava was telling me I needed to buy something or get out. I needed to talk to Nellie.

I lowered my voice, leaning forward so only she could hear me. “But you’re going to.”

“That depends.” Ava shrugged, opening the cupcake case.

“On?” I took a slow deep breath, clenching my hand into a fist in my pocket to stay calm. I could feel my heartrate increasing with my growing frustration—it was that short fuse I was often accused of having.

She reached in, grabbing a chocolate cupcake with bright pink frosting piled on top and what looked like white and green glitter. She put the cupcake into the box. “Are you going to hurt her?”

“I want to help her,” I said while she reached into the case for a different cupcake—one with bright green frosting. I bit back a scowl.

Ava put the cupcake in the box next to the pink one, shaking her head. “That didn’t answer my question.”

“I don’t want to hurt her.” I groaned when she grabbed another cupcake. “Make the last three the wedding cake.”

“Fine,” she said, reaching into the case. She placed the last few cupcakes in the box, folding the lid shut and sliding it to me across the counter. “I’m not going to tell you where she is, though. Your total is thirty-five dollars and sixty-three cents…before tip.”

There was no way I was going to keep going into the bakery and buying cupcakes I didn’t want to eat but was eating far too many of. Even the one with the green frosting had been delicious—who would’ve thought to put mint frosting with vanilla?

I scrolled through the list of places Nellie had run her card at over the past week, hoping to find one that would tell me where she was when she wasn’t covered in flour. So far, it was a bunch of basics: the grocery store, some supply store, and a bar called Dan’s Pub.

“Earth to Ronan. Are you listening to a word I’m saying?” Giaco said, snapping his fingers. I clicked to minimize the screen, drawing my focus back to my now angry brother.

I nodded. “Aren’t I always?”

“Is that a serious question?” He wasn’t amused, and he was even less so when Enzo chortled next to me. “Some days, you’re on it, and some days, you’re off in your own little world thinking about who knows what. What are you over there looking at?”

Shaking my head, I scoffed. “Nothing. Are you saying something important or not?”

Giaco’s face grew redder, and the lines in his forehead and next to his eyes got deeper. Since he took over as the head of the family business, he has looked older than his forty-two years. I stood, putting my hands up and preparing to offer him a truce before he started to yell. As much as I loved to rile my brother up, I didn’t have time for the aftershock that followed.

“You’re in for it now,” Enzo said, confirming my exact thought.

Before I could diffuse the situation, Giaco’s phone rang, and his attention snapped to his pocket. “Yes,” he said, hitting the button on the screen. I couldn’t make out who it was, just semi-frantic mumbling that had to be bad news based on the shade of red that colored Giaco’s face. “Marone!” he yelled, hanging up and shoving the phone in his pocket. He was seething, and his chest heaved with each angry breath.

“What was that?” I asked when he didn’t automatically fill us in. Enzo puffed his chest out, ready for a fight we knew nothing about. If there even was one.

Giaco huffed. “Someone set one of the cars on fire. It’s burning outside of the old warehouse off Commercial Street. Elliott called it in. He said the fire department was headed over there already.”

“Cazzo! Son of a bitch!” Enzo yelled. He slammed his fist against Giaco’s desk, earning a scowl. I cocked my head to the side, slightly confused by his outburst. “Someone set one of our cars on fire. Our cars. You know what that means?” He pulled his lighter from his pocket, flicking it and igniting the tip.

I chuckled, and Giaco pinched his nose between his thumb and finger. “You’re not lighting anything… or anyone on fire, you fucking pyromaniac.”

“Yet.” Enzo smirked, blowing the fire out. “But I make no promises.”

He shoved the lighter back in his pocket, and a laugh burst from my chest. “You’re insane,” I chuckled, grabbing his shoulder. “It’s a good thing you’re on our side. Jesus.”

Enzo wiggled his eyebrows, a sinister smile stretching his cheeks, and Giaco groaned. “Don’t start any shit I’m going to have to finish. I mean it,” he demanded coolly. Enzo rolled his eyes but finally nodded, knowing Giaco wasn’t going to release his glaring hold on him until he did. “We need to get down there before someone else beats us to it.”

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