Page 10 of The Killer Cupcake
"And?" Kathy pressed, her voice tight with dread.
"And now he's dead," Carmelo said quietly. "Poisoned, according to José. He said DeMarco died exactly like King Redmond." His dark eyes searched her face. "Kathy, what does that mean?"
Kathy turned away from him abruptly and walked to the window. She pressed one hand to her forehead and the other to her chest, which was rising and falling with rapid, shallow breaths. Carmelo watched in growing confusion and alarm.
"Talk to me," he said softly, moving closer. "Did she... could she have killed DeMarco?"
"Hush!" Kathy spun around, eyes blazing. "Don't ever say that again. And for God's sake, don't say it to her husband. Do you understand me?"
He nodded, chastened. "Then tell me—who are the Elliott women?"
"Who told you that name?" Kathy's voice was barely a whisper.
"Carmine. He said to beware of Elliott women. Told me never to eat any candies from Janey's hands, never to cross her. Kathy, what's going on? Are you in trouble? Are you in danger here?"
"No! No... no..." She rushed to him and wrapped her arms around his waist, holding tight. "We're safe. My aunt is... complicated. She lives between two worlds—white and black.Sometimes she disappears into one, then goes to the other. I think she went to New York to help me, to find you, and help bring you back to me. She didn't poison anyone. It's not true."
For the first time since he'd known her, Carmelo sensed Kathy was lying to him. The realization hit like a physical blow. Not because she wasn't entitled to secrets—God knew he had plenty of his own—but because this particular secret felt like serious, life-threatening trouble.
"Can we please not focus on that right now?" Kathy's voice broke slightly. "Let's focus on us. On being together."
He kissed her cheek tenderly and pulled out a chair for her. Instead of letting her serve him, he insisted on doing the honors, walking around the elegant table and carefully selecting delicacies he thought she'd enjoy, piling them onto fine china plates. Kathy giggled despite her worry and asked if he'd ever had pralines before, mentioning that her mama could make them too. So he added plenty to his own plate as well.
For the first ten minutes, they could barely speak, both famished from their respective journeys. They ate as if they were starving, savoring rich flavors and tender textures. It took several deep swallows before Carmelo finally came up for air.
"I can't tell you how incredible this is," he grinned, some of the earlier tension melting away.
Kathy giggled, her natural joy surfacing. "I know! Aunt Janey always did everything in grand style."
Carmelo's expression grew serious. "I really have missed you, Kat. Letters aren't enough anymore."
"Me too," she said sadly, reaching across the table. "Tell me what really happened. You barely write about it, and I don't trust Debbie's version. She always blames you and praises Matteo,” she said with an eye roll. “Did you actually shoot your father?"
Carmelo froze at the question, then slowly lowered his gaze to his plate.
“Melo? Please tell me?" she pleaded, offering her hand for support across the polished table.
He managed a weak smile but refused to take her hand. He wasn't that same boy anymore. Eight months had changed him in ways that showed in the new hardness around his eyes, the careful way he held himself.
"Yes. I shot him," he finally admitted—an answer he'd refused to give in all their previous conversations.
"Why?" Her voice was barely a whisper.
"For Madre. For you. For my brothers. For me. In that exact order." His jaw tightened with remembered pain. "He just kept destroying everything and everyone I loved. But he didn't die. He won’t die, unfortunately. Not unless he takes me with him,” Carmelo mumbled. “He doesn’t deserve to live.”
"What happened after he survived?" she pressed gently.
"When he came back home…” Carmelo paused, struggling with the words. "He saved my life."
Kathy frowned in confusion.
"How could he save your life after you shot him?"
"La Cosa Nostradoesn't forgive patricide," Carmelo explained quietly. "Killing my father couldn't be overlooked, but wounding him and being forgiven by him... that gave me my stripes. Gained me respect among killers. And kept his men and his enemies from making an example out of me. A life for a life, as they say. Matteo was in a bad way, vulnerable. My father was at his weakest point. So I made a deal with the devil—we both agreed on a truce. Mama Stewart helped make the terms for my father, which he hated but agreed to. Boxing, Matteo, was given a rank when he was ready. Money of our own, and territory. Now we... wait."
"Wait for what?" Kathy asked, though she feared the answer.
"For our chance to be kings," he said. “It may not be our gun that ends the life of the devil, but the devil in this thing that we do, doesn’t live long.”
