Page 67 of Highball and Chain

“Yes, but I let my renter’s policy lapse. My stuff isn’t covered.” My thoughts raced too fast to bother trying to figure out my next step. Instead, I focused on something easier. Anger. “Did Nico’s family do this?”

“It’s a possibility.” His shoulders tensed. “Shanna…there’s more—”

“I don’t believe in coincidences.” I pulled away from him. “That bitch killed my cat.”

“It’s best not to jump to conclusions.” Hildie might have spoken to me, but her gaze never left Enzo. I knew the look. Evelyn had worn it a few times in Sicily. It was a warning and a command to control the situation. To control his woman.

“Please, what are the chances I’d lose my job and my apartment in the span of a couple of days? Has anyone confronted them? Does Gabe know what happened?” I couldn’t sit in a white marble cage while some lunatic mob family systematically ruined my life. I headed for the stairs.

“Where are you going?” Enzo followed me.

“The Quarter. I need to see my apartment for myself and look for Mr. Boogerre. Then I’m going to pay Alex a visit. I’m not leaving the office until he tells me why he fired me.”

Enzo caught up with me at the top of the stairs. “Shanna, come back down and have some breakfast. There’s more I need to tell you, then we’ll call Gabe and see what we can find out.”

“Why are you so calm? My entire fucking life exploded the second I met you.” As soon as the words came out of my mouth, I regretted them. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean… I don’t blame you for any of this.”

He wore the same dipped chin, sad-eyed expression as the boy in the family photos. “I wouldn’t blame you if you did.”

“I know this isn’t your fault. I shouldn’t have said that. I’m sorry, but I can’t sit around and wait.” While I appreciated his hospitality, I needed to get back to the Quarter, find my cat, and see if I could salvage any of my things—including my job.

His fingers bit into my upper arms. “You can’t leave until we know it’s safe.”

Wanna bet?

“Please. Come downstairs. You need to hear the rest before you make any decisions.”

I nodded and followed him.

Enzo waited until we entered the kitchen before answering. “There was a break-in at the restaurant last night…and a small fire.”

I gripped the countertop. Another fire? What the hell is wrong with these people? “How bad is it?”

“They trashed the place. It’ll take a couple of weeks to get it up and running again.” He stared as if waiting for me to react.

All things considered, trashed struck me as an odd way to describe someone torching his restaurant. “Was the fire damage extensive?”

“No.” He pressed his lips into a tight line and shook his head. “The intruder lit paper products and cooking oil in a large stockpot.”

The air left my lungs as if he’d struck me. “That feels like a message.”

“I agree.” Enzo folded his arms. “I didn’t want to get into this in front of Hildie, but I fear you were right. This has the Lazios written all over it. They were careful not to destroy anything too large or difficult to replace.”

Snap. A piece of the puzzle fell into place. “But they wanted you to know they were responsible for my apartment.”

He nodded. “We shouldn’t jump to conclusions yet, but it makes sense. The Lazios wouldn’t want me out of business for long. It’d cost them too much money.”

“Shit.” While the Lazios were my first suspects, confirmation a mafia family had me in their crosshairs left me more than a little freaked out.

“We’re going to lie low for a while. Stay out of sight. Security is good here, but I’m adding some extra men to keep an eye on things in the evenings.” Enzo walked farther into the kitchen.

I wanted to point out he didn’t own me, to tell him I could take care of myself, to insist nothing would happen to me in broad daylight in the middle of the French Quarter, but after the events of the previous days, a little caution would go a long way. However, that didn’t mean I intended to let him boss me around, nor did I want him along for the ride.

I need to go alone. I couldblend into a crowd, but Lorenzo Marchionni would stand out like a billboard in Time’s Square.

“Do you need anything from the store? Hildie’s going to Rouse’s to pick up a few groceries.”

I opened my mouth to tell him no thank you, but bit my tongue. The longer the housekeeper was out, the easier it’d be for me to slip away. “If it’s not too much trouble, could she stop by Target? I could use some shorts, size four. I didn’t pack any for Sicily, because Italians don’t wear them.”

---