That Time I Accidentally Took Over the Mafia (Accidental)

Chapter 14

T his is the second morning this week I’ve woken up to an empty bed and the smell of bacon. After brushing my teeth and throwing my messy bun together, I pull on Jax’s shirt and head downstairs.

Once again, he’s at the stove, wearing nothing but pants. I run my hands along his corded muscles and hug him from behind, pressing my mouth between his shoulder blades.

He turns around, pulling me into a bruising kiss and grinding his hips into mine. “Fuck me, Peach. You can’t put those lips on me while I’m cooking. I’ll burn your breakfast.”

I bite his lip, pulling it before letting it go. “You could always just feed me your cock for breakfast.” I hop up onto the counter, and he hands me a steaming cup of coffee. “I wouldn’t protest if I were woken up to your award-winning penis sliding into my mouth.”

His smile would seduce the devil. “Noted.”

Enzo rounds the corner, and I nearly pass out when I see him in gray sweats and a too-small T-shirt. I put my hand to my chest, acting like I’m having a heart attack. He rolls his eyes at my reaction, knowing exactly what I’m thinking.

“I half expected your pajamas to be a three-piece suit too.”

“You know what I wear to bed.”

It’s nothing, everyone. He wears nothing to bed.

Enzo reaches around Jax, clearly copping a feel of Jax’s semi, and murmurs, “Mmmm. Someone’s having a good morning.” He kisses Jax’s shoulder. “It smells good in here.”

I raise an eyebrow at their playful exchange, and Enzo shoots me a smirk and a wink before heading to the coffee pot.

“I could think of several things that would make this a much better morning.” Jax leans against the counter, eyeing me while sipping his coffee.

Enzo looks over at him, still pouring a cup for himself, then looks at me. “Luca got rid of the computer and scrambled any trace of our route here last night, so we should be good until we leave tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” I ask.

“We need a new ride, Peach. Our current one might draw a little too much attention.”

Fucking obviously, Delaney. Stop being dense.

“I’m sorry for last night.” Enzo’s deep gray eyes hold me while he stirs his coffee. “We’ve?—”

I hold up a hand, stopping him. “It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have snapped like that.”

Jax erases the distance between us, standing between my legs and holding my face in his hands. “It’s been a rough two days for you, baby. And you’re right. You have every reason to be upset and react, okay?”

I nod, sipping my coffee, feeling a little more awake. The whispers of my parents’ argument echo in my mind as Jax and Enzo fall into conversation. Perhaps the only way to bury this mystery along with my father is to figure out the answer to my theory.

“I’ve been thinking about my mother’s death. What if it wasn’t an accident?”

Jax and Enzo both perk up at this.

“I mean, now that I know my dad was a mafia warlord my whole life, I’m seeing my childhood in a whole new light. She was ‘lost at sea,’ never to be seen again. That sounds pretty mafia-ish if you ask me. What if she was killed by my dad—or because of my dad? And there have been hits out on me too... Maybe someone was trying to get to him through her, and now me?”

Jax stares at me, narrowing his eyes in thought, as if he’s cataloging what he already knows and filtering it through a new lens.

“I mean, have you guys ever looked into her death?”

“No,” Enzo answers immediately. “The focus has always been on Caputo. He is what leads to you.”

“But what if it’s not? What if it’s my mother?” I take another sip of coffee, letting it give me courage. “The explanation of a boating accident was enough for you guys to dismiss it as unimportant and never even consider it. That would be the exact goal of someone staging a murder to look like an accident.”

“That could lead us somewhere,” Enzo says thoughtfully. “It’s worth checking out because we don’t have much else right now.” His eyes flick over my bare legs, making my stomach flip.

I can feel the “but” coming. It’s standing here between us.

“But—” Called it. “That was twenty years ago, Del. It may be hard to find anything, but we can try. Just don’t get your hopes up.”

I nod, understanding, but I’m glad they aren’t fighting me on it.

I’ve always been indifferent toward my mother’s memory because there isn’t one. I know she existed, then she didn’t. But I heard her voice last night, in my own mind. It didn’t come from home videos; it came from me.

And now, there is something about finding out if she was murdered that feels important.

“You know,” Jax begins, turning back to the stove. “Butte’s full of Cleaners and Fixers.”

“What are those? Mafia people?” My tone is a bit more excited than I probably should be, considering we’re talking about reopening a twenty-year-old death.

The corner of Enzo’s mouth lifts in amusement. “Yes, those are mafia people.”

“Ooh, can we go talk to some?”

“They don’t exactly sit down for afternoon tea, Peach.” Jax rubs my thigh, cupping my ass, murmuring “Damn,” and then returning to the cooking.

“No. That would be too obvious.” Enzo looks off thoughtfully. “But they do hang around a members club and reminisce about the old country every night.” He raises an eyebrow at Jax.

“A members club? What, is that like code for a mafia old folks’ home?” I take another sip of coffee.

Enzo laughs—a rare sound—but when he does, it makes his gray eyes gleam. “Kind of, actually. Butte’s a nice spot for retirement, so it’s full of goombahs.”

My eyebrows shoot upward. “What kind of name is that? Does the mafia know those are little brown mushrooms in a video game?”

Enzo laughs again, and I feel a sense of accomplishment.

“The old country is Italy. The member’s club is just that. A quiet life of retirement is more than most mafia families can hope for, but if they are able to hand off their duties to a successor, they can never really stop living the life.” Enzo pours more coffee into my cup. “They sit around and talk about the same old stories as if they just happened. If anyone remembers anything about hits from two decades ago, this might be the best place to ask. We just have to be careful.”

“Okay, so how do we do it?”

Enzo looks at Jax, who shrugs like he’s agreeing with some unspoken question. Then Enzo turns his intense gaze on me. “Can I take you out to dinner tonight, Ms. Caputo?”

My stomach does a somersault. Inside, I want to scream, “Fuck yes, let’s go to dinner and talk to some old mafia goobers!” Or whatever he called them. Instead, I hop down off the counter, pretending to be uninterested.

“We’ll see. I have a very busy schedule.” I huff on my nails and pretend to buff them on Jax’s shirt that I’ve claimed. “I’ll see if I can pencil something in.”

Enzo licks his lips, accepting the challenge with a sharp gleam in his eye. “I’ll call the shops and have someone deliver a dress.”

“I’ll think about wearing it.” I walk away with my fresh cup of hot coffee, exaggerating the sway of my hips as I leave.

“Fuck, she’s going to be the death of me,” Jax says, returning to the breakfast that is nearly ready.

“Yeah, but what a way to fucking go, huh?” Enzo answers. “Now, come here and give me that mouth.” His voice dips down just for Jax. I glance back, catching Enzo grabbing a handful of Jax’s ass before claiming his mouth. And fuck, what I wouldn’t do to be in the middle of that sandwich.