Page 87 of Gin & Trouble

It took a lot to stun my mother into silence, and by a lot, I meant her learning her youngest son was head over heels for the woman who might or might not have tried to kill her other son.

After what felt like forever, she drew a deep breath. “I’ve learned my lesson. It only took having this conversation with five sons, but I’ve learned.”

I had no idea what she was talking about. “Okay?”

“You could do worse than little Frankie Abruzzo. She’s Italian, Catholic, and understands our business…”

I couldn’t believe my ears. She’d absolutely hated my sisters-in-law while they were dating my brothers. Hell, she still couldn’t stand Shanna. “How can you say that, Ma? Regardless of who pulled the trigger, she’s been hiding Sophia in New Orleans for a year.”

“And you’re telling me you wouldn’t hide Marco if he were in trouble?”

What kind of alternate universe did I stumble into?

“So let me get this straight. You’re okay with me being with Frankie because she’s an Italian Catholic, even though she might be a murderer?”

Evelyn laughed. “Don’t put the noose around her neck until you know the facts.”

“Right. Of course not.” I pinched the bridge of my nose.

“But…you are too young to think about marriage. And for the love of everything good and holy, keep yourcannoliin your pants.”

I found myself somewhere between shocked, disgusted, and amused. “Sure thing, Ma. And on that note, I need to go.”

“I’ll let you know what the plans are for Christmas if Enzo can’t travel.”

“Thanks, love you.” I hung up and dialed Marco. Again.

Marco answered on the first ring. “I’m a little busy. What’s up?”

He has the nerve to ask me that?

Enzo was shot and he’d gone radio silent.

Rather than explaining idiocy to an idiot, I went with blunt. “Where the hell is Frankie?”

“She’s safe—or as safe as I can make her—but I need your help.”

I loved my brother. And while my mother would say it was a sin to favor one over the others, Marco was by far my favorite. But I wanted to reach through the phone and punch him in the face. “Where is she?”

“On a plane.”

Screw reaching through the phone. I’m going to drive over there and beat his ass.“To where?”

“Frankie asked me not to tell you where she’s headed. She’s worried you’ll do something stupid.” He sighed. “Kind of like reverse déjà vu isn’t it? You didn’t tell her about Sophia because you—”

“Yeah, yeah. Point taken. Did she do this? Was she the shooter?”

“I don’t know, but I’m keeping her safe until I figure it out. Which is where you come in.”

I could all but hear him rubbing his hands together like the evil genius he wasnot. “I’m not helping you do anything until you tell me where you sent her.”

“Do some digging into Harrison Meriwether and a Robert Becker. Find something that pins one or both shootings on them. We need to get your girl off the hook without the media getting wind of her mafia connections.”

“You’re talking about framing innocent people.” My chest tightened. Marco and I had been inseparable growing up. Sure, we’d drifted apart since he’d jumped into the deep end of the mafia cesspool, but the guy I knew would never ask such a thing.

“Look, we don’t know what we don’t know, and I need to figure this out.”

“I’m listening.”

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