Lacey Luzzi: Sprinkled: A humorous cozy mystery! (Lacey Luzzi Mafia Mysteries Book 1) Read Online Free
Author: Gina LaManna
Tags: Mafia, Urban, Robbery, female protagonist, organized crime, Theft, assassin, Comedy, Heist, fun, scary, mob, amateur, racy
surprise and relief, the stoic leader let out a bark of laughter.
“Marco, Marco,” he said, bending over and untying the hostage. “Hopefully he’s learned his lessons.”
“I think so,” Meg said. “He won’t be staring at my boobs ever again.”
The leader and I exchanged a quick glance, but neither of us commented.
“He’s one of ours,” the Italian said.
“Oooops.” I winced.
“It’s okay. Nice work – most amateurs can’t capture one of Carlos’ men.”
“What can I say? I guess boobs are good for something.” I blushed as soon as the words leapt off my tongue.
The Italian looked as if he had a good retort, but refrained at the last minute. However, I didn’t miss his eyes darkening or the quick gaze he cast over my own average-sized chest. I shivered, and it had nothing to do with the chill in the night air.
“Yeah, plus I was a cop.” Meg whipped out her gun, as if to show it off, but accidentally dropped it, firing a round into the basketball hoop that’d recently held our boy hostage. “Ooops,” she giggled, a sound I didn’t hear often. She bent over to pick it up. “Probably a good thing I’m retired.”
Or fired, I wanted to correct.
The man raised his eyebrows then yapped to a few of the other guards huddled over by the car. They leapt to attention and helped Marco over to the backseat, where he slowly came to his senses. The first few words I heard from across the room were jibberish. I kind of hoped he had a case of amnesia – I didn’t need Carlos to find out I’d taken down the wrong team.
The leader of the pack pulled his gaze away from Meg and I, marching across the parking lot to the shiny black car.
“Hey!” I called after him. “What’s your name?”
And in the darkness of night, I couldn’t tell if he winked or blinked or neither, the movement happened so quickly.
But the next thing I knew he’d slipped into the car, cruising away in the night air, departing as silently as he’d arrived.
“Damn,” Meg broke the tense silence. “That man is a mysterious mofo. If he weren’t so sneaky I’d get my hands all over him.”
“You and me both,” I said. “You and me both.”
“How we getting home?” Meg asked.
“What do you mean? I drove here…” I trailed off as I noticed a few bullet holes in the tires of my crappy-little-Kia. “Oh, bummer.”
“Clay?” Meg asked.
I nodded, and went to my default solution for any problem.
I called my tech-whiz cousin Clay, who doubled as my roommate. He could move money around the world faster than I could tie my shoes, and he could hack into secure websites with his hands tied to his ankles. This didn’t mean he knew anything about fixing cars, but I figured it should be a simple matter for him to get us a lift.
Indeed, Clay came to our rescue. He called a repair man from car a shop around the corner – a business that specialized in tires, transmissions, and stolen cars – and we were in action. Except the wheels on my crappy-little-Kia were much too small, and Meg and I sat much lower than most of the traffic on the street. As we pulled out of the parking lot, I felt as if I’d finally gotten one of those motorized Barbie Jeeps I’d asked for as a child. Special Edition: Bullet-Riddled Tires.
Honestly though, it wasn’t our fault trouble followed us everywhere.
As we cruised across town to Meg’s bar, I used the time to brainstorm exactly what to tell my grandfather that’d convince him to let me keep my job. There was no way I was going back to the laundromat now. Not when I needed four tires replaced.
Chapter 4
I dropped Meg off at her bar, Drink – a divey, little place near Uptown. It was known for its generous pours, interesting clientele and dark corners perfect for quiet discussions.
Meg snapped her gum and waved as she hauled ass inside, just in time for the late night happy hour rush.
A pit lodged in my stomach. I had absolutely zero reasons to procrastinate anymore. I
“Marco, Marco,” he said, bending over and untying the hostage. “Hopefully he’s learned his lessons.”
“I think so,” Meg said. “He won’t be staring at my boobs ever again.”
The leader and I exchanged a quick glance, but neither of us commented.
“He’s one of ours,” the Italian said.
“Oooops.” I winced.
“It’s okay. Nice work – most amateurs can’t capture one of Carlos’ men.”
“What can I say? I guess boobs are good for something.” I blushed as soon as the words leapt off my tongue.
The Italian looked as if he had a good retort, but refrained at the last minute. However, I didn’t miss his eyes darkening or the quick gaze he cast over my own average-sized chest. I shivered, and it had nothing to do with the chill in the night air.
“Yeah, plus I was a cop.” Meg whipped out her gun, as if to show it off, but accidentally dropped it, firing a round into the basketball hoop that’d recently held our boy hostage. “Ooops,” she giggled, a sound I didn’t hear often. She bent over to pick it up. “Probably a good thing I’m retired.”
Or fired, I wanted to correct.
The man raised his eyebrows then yapped to a few of the other guards huddled over by the car. They leapt to attention and helped Marco over to the backseat, where he slowly came to his senses. The first few words I heard from across the room were jibberish. I kind of hoped he had a case of amnesia – I didn’t need Carlos to find out I’d taken down the wrong team.
The leader of the pack pulled his gaze away from Meg and I, marching across the parking lot to the shiny black car.
“Hey!” I called after him. “What’s your name?”
And in the darkness of night, I couldn’t tell if he winked or blinked or neither, the movement happened so quickly.
But the next thing I knew he’d slipped into the car, cruising away in the night air, departing as silently as he’d arrived.
“Damn,” Meg broke the tense silence. “That man is a mysterious mofo. If he weren’t so sneaky I’d get my hands all over him.”
“You and me both,” I said. “You and me both.”
“How we getting home?” Meg asked.
“What do you mean? I drove here…” I trailed off as I noticed a few bullet holes in the tires of my crappy-little-Kia. “Oh, bummer.”
“Clay?” Meg asked.
I nodded, and went to my default solution for any problem.
I called my tech-whiz cousin Clay, who doubled as my roommate. He could move money around the world faster than I could tie my shoes, and he could hack into secure websites with his hands tied to his ankles. This didn’t mean he knew anything about fixing cars, but I figured it should be a simple matter for him to get us a lift.
Indeed, Clay came to our rescue. He called a repair man from car a shop around the corner – a business that specialized in tires, transmissions, and stolen cars – and we were in action. Except the wheels on my crappy-little-Kia were much too small, and Meg and I sat much lower than most of the traffic on the street. As we pulled out of the parking lot, I felt as if I’d finally gotten one of those motorized Barbie Jeeps I’d asked for as a child. Special Edition: Bullet-Riddled Tires.
Honestly though, it wasn’t our fault trouble followed us everywhere.
As we cruised across town to Meg’s bar, I used the time to brainstorm exactly what to tell my grandfather that’d convince him to let me keep my job. There was no way I was going back to the laundromat now. Not when I needed four tires replaced.
Chapter 4
I dropped Meg off at her bar, Drink – a divey, little place near Uptown. It was known for its generous pours, interesting clientele and dark corners perfect for quiet discussions.
Meg snapped her gum and waved as she hauled ass inside, just in time for the late night happy hour rush.
A pit lodged in my stomach. I had absolutely zero reasons to procrastinate anymore. I
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