Page 60 of Above ’N’ Beyond

“And where are the bottles now?” Paola asked.

“In a storage unit outside Peekskill,” Jamie said. “We ditched the truck behind a deserted factory up there. As soon as the heat dies down, we’ll head back and start selling the booze to delis and bodegas. I’ve already got a list of places ready to take them off our hands.”

“Excellent. You’ve done well.” Paola tipped her head to Tony. “Take him with you to Stewart tomorrow.”

“Stewart Airport?” Jamie looked between the two of them. Instinct told him he was about to be read into whatever Paola was planning next.

Again, the door opened. Bella and Sierra carried in trays of appetizers. All conversation about Stewart Airport ceased while the platters of food were set out. As she’d done last time, Bella refused to look at him. Her face was a blank mask, but Jamie felt the tension flowing off her like a tidal wave of fury.

After Bella and Sierra left, Tony cleared his throat. “We need to make a pickup tomorrow.”

Jamie paused mid-sip. “Pick up of what?”

Tony opened his mouth to reply, but Paola interrupted. “You’ll find out when you get there.”

Jamie nodded in understanding. Whatever was going down at the airport, Paola wanted to keep the circle in the know tight until the very last minute. But this was a good start.

Stewart International Airport was a fairly large airport about two hours north of the city. The Port Authority had jurisdiction there, but the cargo inspection team was significantly smaller than at the other major New York City airports. Jamie would bet Paola was smuggling something into the country and was smart enough to do it through a port of entry where the chances of getting caught were significantly less. He also had to consider they could be picking up a passenger, not smuggled contraband.

Paola took one of the stuffed clams from a platter. “If we’re successful tomorrow,” she continued, “the rest of you will do pickups at the other airports as scheduled.”

A hundred questions pinged his brain, but he had to tread lightly. Smugglers typically utilized multiple ports of entry. If Paola was smuggling contraband, she’d spread it out at different airports. Any smuggling operation had acceptable losses. If one of their shipments got caught by authorities, chances were still good at least some of their other packages would make it through.

“Gentlemen.” Fierce determination lit Paola’s eyes as she looked around the table. “We’re on the brink of success. By this time next week, I will have accomplished something no other woman in this country ever has. The power bestowed on me will enable us to rebuild. To take back what we lost. What was taken from us.”

Next week. The big event set to take place in this very room, maybe.

“To the family.” Tony pushed back his chair and stood, raising his glass to his mother.

“To the family.” Jamie followed suit, as did the other men.

As he drank to Paola Mancuso’s impending success, he looked over the rim of his glass to a corner of the ceiling where Bella had hidden a camera. He swallowed the expensive wine. It soured in his mouth. The war of conscience waging in his head became more brutal, pounding relentlessly from both sides.

Bella’s cameras could be the key to saving his father’s life.

They could also be the very things that might get her killed.

Chapter Twenty

The sky-blue silk nightie slithered down Bella’s body as she pulled it over her head. She ran her fingers through her still-damp hair, leaving it in unruly spikes that matched her mood. Edgy. Worried. Unsettled, to say the least.

Waiting on her aunt tonight like a lowly servant had nearly driven her insane. She’d wanted to dump those bottles of wine right over Paola’s expensively coiffed hair. With every course she’d served, her nerves had ratcheted tighter, waiting for her aunt to confront her about the cameras. She never did, so Bella could only conclude Jimmy hadn’t spilled the beans.

Since locking up the Bistro at ten o’clock, she’d driven home, then taken an extra-long shower. Some days, it seemed like the smells of the restaurant—garlic, herbs, onions—were permanently embedded in her clothes, hair, and fingertips.

She rested her palms on the edge of the vanity, taking in her reflection in the mirror and wondering if Jimmy would eventually say something. The first thing she’d done after getting home was to cue up the cameras on her phone. They were still in place. For now.

Jimmy had said he’d wanted to talk. Yeah. Talk her into taking down the cameras. She fisted her hands on the vanity. I won’t do it. That ball had been set in motion, and she had to stand firm. Jimmy could easily take them down himself. Maybe he would.

Was she a terrible person for wanting to blackmail her aunt? Maybe. Maybe not. She was sick and tired of being bullied, being strung along and, above all else, being used and lied to.

Bella twisted off the cap of her nightly moisturizer, squeezed some onto her fingers, then began vigorously rubbing it on her face and neck. She was done being manipulated. By anyone.

She flipped off the bathroom light, then went into the living room to check on Gnocchi. He was curled up into a tight little ball, fast asleep. After their nightly walk, it had taken an hour to calm him down and coax him into the new crate. Waking him now would be stupid, but he was always up for a good cuddle, and she needed the physical contact. To know she was important in someone’s life. Even a puppy’s life.

The moment her fingers touched the latch, Gnocchi woke, giving her an enthusiastic yip as he raced for the open crate door and straight into Bella’s arms. The puppy’s tongue was wet and rough on her chin. Instantly, the gloomy pall of the evening brightened. Some, anyway.

She gave Gnocchi a scratch beneath his chin. “Would you like to sleep with me?” In response, he licked her chin again. “That’s what I thought.”