Page 103 of The Killer Cupcake
The image haunted her—Brother carrying Claire's limp body from the church while Debbie stumbled behind, José's arms the only thing keeping her upright.
"I'm sorry, Kat. For all of it."
She managed a small smile. "I know you are."
The procession rolled to a stop at Woodlawn Cemetery. Ely shifted Junior into his arms with practiced ease, then took her hand for the walk to the graveside tent. Her family had already gathered—Claire propped between Brother and Debbie, the others arranged in a protective circle. Above them, storm clouds gathered like an omen. Kathy shivered despite the heat. Whatever was coming for them had already begun.
It started with whispers—urgent,shocked, rippling through the mourners like a spreading fire. Kathy's head came up slowly,dread pooled in her stomach as she watched faces twist with disbelief and rage.
"What is it?" Kathy asked.
Ely craned his neck. His eyes searched the crowd. She watched his expression transform from confusion to fury. “It can’t be. The fucking Riccis are here."
"What?" But even as the word left her lips, Kathy turned, searching. Through gaps in the crowd, she caught glimpses—sharp suits, watchful faces, the unmistakable lines of made men. Her attention flew to her father at the graveside. His lieutenant was already there, whispering urgently. Still, Henry Freeman continued his ritual—placing the lily on his brother's casket with the same measured grace, as if the enemy hadn't just walked into his brother's funeral. The men lowered the coffin into the grave on long straps, and after it went in, her father gave the first shovel of dirt.
Her heart forgot how to beat.
Across the space, Debbie's terrified gaze locked with hers. They both knew what this meant—Matteo and Carmelo, here, now, when wounds were still bleeding. The audacity of it stole her breath.
The Freeman family moved together. Brother guided his mother's unsteady steps as they emerged from the tent's shelter. Twenty yards away, the Ricci family waited in perfect symmetry. Don Cosimo stood at the apex, Carmelo and Matteo flanked him like twin threats, soldiers—one to his left and the other to his right. Kathy marveled at how much of a man Carmelo now looked next to his father and brother. Before, she only saw the boy she loved.
Without a word, Ely handed Junior to José, his hand tightening and going protective over Kathy. Each step forward felt like walking to her execution. Even through dark sunglasses, she felt Carmelo's stare. She fought not to look at him. Shereminded herself that it was over. That they both had failed each other. She was married. That was that. Still, her eyes betrayed her, and she was drawn to him like a compass finding north.
Then Ely's arm settled around her shoulders, claiming her. Everything changed.
The spell she had over Carmelo broke, and he took note of Ely. Even under the cover of his dark sunglasses, Kathy saw his attention shift to her husband ever so slightly. The shift in Carmelo’s stature was instantaneous—from focused intensity to something volcanic. Even behind sunglasses, his rage breathed through him. Out of protective instinct, she felt the need to shield Ely. She'd seen Carmelo dangerous before, but never had she feared him. Never had she seen his deadliness aimed at someone she'd sworn to protect.
Junior's shriek split the air. "Papa! Papa!" His little body fought José's hold, arms reaching desperately for Matteo.
Time stopped.
Don Cosimo's gaze swiveled to his son with lethal speculation. The look that passed between father and son could have frozen blood. Henry noticed—of course, he noticed—so did Claire and Brother. Debbie stood rigid, frozen. Henry’s suspicion of Debbie passed, and his face remained stone as he stopped the family march to the Ricci’s and faced off with the Don. José slipped away with a wailing Junior in his arms, pulling poor Debbie away with him.
Matteo might have been carved from ice for all the reaction he showed to his son's cries. But Kathy saw the pain in his eyes as he watched her go.
"Henry Freeman.” Don Cosimo's voice boomed with self-appointed authority. "On behalf of the Five Families and Lucky Luciano himself, I offer our deepest sympathies. Pete Freeman was an old-school man—a man who understood honor. AndBumpy Johnson remains the soul of Harlem, even in his current circumstances. When men like them fall, the whole city bleeds."
Kathy saw her mother's touch on her father's sleeve—gentle as a butterfly, strong as steel.
"Your sympathies mean nothing to me or my dead brother,” Henry said quietly, and somehow the soft tone was more terrifying than shouting. "But I'll take your message to Bumpy when I see him. As for Harlem bleeding..." Henry’s smile was winter itself. "We've bled before. We survive. We rebuild. And we remember. Harlem's been teaching this mob lessons for decades, now. Not the other way around,” he paused a beat. No one else dared speak. “Here's another one: our territory is baptized in Peter Freeman’s blood. Any Italian who forgets where Harlem begins and ends will get a personal geography lesson. Written in their own blood. By my command.”
Don Cosimo chuckled. “You’re King now?”
Henry held the Don’s glare.
Don Cosimo said something in Italian to all of his men, who chuckled, except for his sons. He glanced at Carmelo and leaned in and whispered in his son’s ear.
To Kathy’s shock and horror, Carmelo nodded. He turned his gaze to her father. “My father understands this is a time for accounting. However, he is a generous man. You are mourning. He will forgive the disrespect. When you are ready, Mr. Freeman, he will be too.”
Henry smirked, and the gold tooth in his mouth gleamed.
“Stay ready, son,” Henry Freeman said. He leaned a bit forward and held Carmelo’s gaze. “I’m coming for you, too.”
Carmelo gave a curt nod of respect and a sly smile in return.
The mob turned and left. Not before Carmelo shot Kathy one last look and another to Ely, before he turned and walked away. Feeling faint, Kathy closed her eyes and lowered her head. Henry and the family stayed in place and didn’t move or retreat.They didn’t even speak until the last car driving the Ricci’s out of the cemetery was unseen.
"Let's leave,"Kathy said from the brownstone's stoop. She watched Ely pace the sidewalk. "Please, Ely. Let's go back to Butts."
