Gin & Trouble: A Mafia Romantic Comedy (Bourbon Street Bad Boys' Club Book 5)

  Gin & Trouble

  Kathryn M. Hearst

  GIN & TROUBLE.

  Copyright © 2020 by Kathryn M. Hearst. All rights reserved.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Worldwide Rights. Printed in the United States of America. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  First Edition published by Wyndham House, Inc. November 2020.

  www.kathrynmhearst.com

  Cover art designed by Dar Alexander, Wicked Smart Designs

  Editor Holly Atkinson, Evil Eye Editing

  Proofreader Book Nook Nuts Proofreading

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  1. Dante

  2. Frankie

  3. Dante

  4. Frankie

  5. Dante

  6. Frankie

  7. Frankie

  8. Dante

  9. Frankie

  10. Dante

  11. Frankie

  12. Dante

  13. Frankie

  14. Dante

  15. Frankie

  16. Dante

  17. Frankie

  18. Dante

  19. Frankie

  20. Frankie

  21. Dante

  22. Dante

  23. Frankie

  24. Dante

  25. Frankie

  26. Dante

  27. Frankie

  28. Dante

  29. Frankie

  30. Dante

  31. Frankie

  32. Dante

  33. Frankie

  34. Dante

  35. Frankie

  36. Dante

  37. Frankie

  38. Dante

  39. Frankie

  40. Dante

  Also by Kathryn M. Hearst

  About the Author

  For the geeks and nerds and role-players out there looking for love in all the weird places.

  This one’s for you.

  1

  Dante

  Shaking hands? Check.

  Twitchy eyes? Check.

  Inability to sit still, follow a football game, or think of anything but her?

  Check, check, and double-freaking-check.

  That’s it. I’m addicted to Julia. Or maybe I need to learn to meditate. Hmm…I wonder if Julia meditates?

  “Earth to Dante?” My brother, Gabe, plopped down beside me on the oversized couch. “Dude, what the hell is wrong with you? The Saints just got a first down.”

  “It’s Thanksgiving. After dinner naps are mandatory.” Ignoring him and the rest of my family gathered in the den to watch the game, I leaned my head back and closed my eyes.

  I wonder if Julia is taking a nap. In bed. Naked.

  “Nice try, but you can’t claim turkey coma this year. We barely touched it.” He glanced toward the kitchen, likely to make sure his wife wasn’t listening. “I’m ready for a pizza. That Chinese food wore off about ten minutes after we cleared the table.”

  “Maggie will murder you in your sleep if you order more take out.” I felt bad for him. Hell, I felt bad for all of us, but mostly, I felt bad for Maggie.

  “Nah, she loves me too much to knock me off.” He raised his chin but the crinkle between his eyes told me he had his doubts.

  “Maybe, or maybe she doesn’t want to raise five kids on her own.” I couldn’t resist giving him a hard time—as the baby of the family, it was my job.

  “True, but you have to admit. Nothing, and I mean nothing, spoils Thanksgiving more than an overcooked turkey.”

  I dropped my voice to a conspirator’s tone. “Her soggy oyster dressing is a close second.”

  As if the memory was too much to bear, he shuddered. “There’s pie.”

  I couldn’t imagine how Maggie could have screwed up putting a frozen dessert in the oven, but where there’s a will… “Is it edible?”

  “Only one way to find out.”

  I followed Gabe to the kitchen, but when he turned to face me, his serious expression told me I’d been lured away from the rest of the family under false pretenses. “What’s up?”

  “This year is… It doesn’t feel like Thanksgiving.” He leaned against the counter and gave me his best concerned-big-brother look. “You okay?”

  My chest tightened to the point I struggled to breathe. “I’m fine. Ma is in Sicily taking care of Pops. They’d be here if they could.”

  “They aren’t the only ones missing.” Gabe was as subtle as an airhorn.

  Our parents’ absence was only the sour topping on the shit flavored pie. We’d see them over Christmas. Our older brother Joe was another story.

  Grief washed over me like storm surge from a Cat-five hurricane, but I tried to play it cool by changing the subject to yet another brother. “Marco would be here, but he’s busy running one fifth of the—”

  “Business. He’s running the business.” Gabe’s voice rose to the point he glanced back toward the family room as if to make sure no one had overheard him.

  “Right.” I got it. I did. We didn’t use words like mafia or mob or the Cosa Nostra in mixed company. But I didn’t want to get into murders and orphaned kids and the black hole in my heart.

  Gabe got that far away expression we all had when thinking about Joe. “I can’t believe it’s been three years. It’s bullshit what they say about time healing all wounds.”

  I clamped a hand on his shoulder and put my face in his line of vision. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  “I’d be better with some pizza.” He laughed a humorless laugh that told me he’d lied, or at least said the right thing for my benefit.

  “I’ll deny I ever said this, but me, too. I’m freaking starving.”

  Chuckling, Gabe turned his attention back to the game. A split second later, he darted toward the TV. “Run! Go! Go, go go… Yes! Touch-doooown Saints!”

  A chorus of “Who dats!” erupted from my other brothers, their wives, and their kids. We might have been born in Sicily, but we’d lived in the Big Easy since we were in grade school. Needless to say, we bled black and gold when the New Orleans Saints played.

  Normally, I’d be shouting along with them, but not this year. Gabe was right. This Thanksgiving sucked. My only hope of salvaging the day was Julia—a woman I’d technically never met, but had spent the last several months gaming with online.

  Speaking of which, what better time to ask her out than a holiday?

  I pulled out my phone and fired off a text.

  Me: Happy Thanksgiving.

  Julia: You, too. How was it?

  Me: My sister-in-law’s turkey was so dry it turned to powder in my mouth.

  Julia: It couldn’t have been that bad.

  Me: Jerky has more moisture. I doubt any of us will recover from the T-Day trauma in this lifetime.

  Julia: LOL Did anyone eat it?

  Me: We tried. Five minutes in, my brother gave up and ordered Chinese.

  Julia: Dry turkey and Chinese is better than the cereal I had. Plus, you were with your family. That has to count for something right?

  Smooth. Real smooth. Complaining when the only family she has nearby is her pain-in-the-ass sister.

  I slipped outside and called her.

  “Hi.”

  Hearing her voice sent a shock of electricity from my ear to my toes and back again. Parts of me softened, but other parts hardened. “Are you busy?”

  “Nope.”

  “Do you have plans tonight?” I hadn’t been so nervous about asking a woman out since middle school.

  “Besides a Sci-Fi channel marathon and splurging on a shrimp po-boy?” Julia’s laughter gave me a shot of courage.

  “Want some company?” The fact that my voice cracked like my teenage nephew’s should have made me run for the bayou, but I dug the way she made me feel.

  I dug the slightly nauseous, too excited to turn back, next-in-line-for-the-roller-coaster craziness of a new relationship.

  I dug her.

  “It’s Thanksgiving. You should spend it with your family.” Her words had a singsong quality to them that told me she was smiling.

  She’s going to say yes this time. I know it.

  “I’ve been here since ten this morning. You know what they say about too much of a good thing…”

  “Families are like sunshine. They’ll burn you if you get too much?” She sounded like she’d bit back more laughter.

  “Not a bad analogy. I’m an introvert in a house full of loud Italians. I usually spend the day after family dinners nursing a too-many-people-hangover.”

  “Do you drink raw egg, tomato and pickle juice smoothies?”

  “Eggs, no, but a bloody Mary and some dill shooters work wonders.” I loved that she had the same slightly off sense of humor as me. I loved damned near everything about her, except the part where she’d gone out of her way to avoid meeting me.

  “I’ll take your word for it.”

  “So what do you think? Want to Sci-Fi and chill?” I hated how despe
rate I sounded, but I was more than ready to meet her. Hell, I hadn’t even seen her pic. I had no clue what she looked like and didn’t care. I just wanted to be with her.

  The line went as silent as the freaking grave.

  Shit. Shit. Shit.

  Julia drew a deep breath. “I don’t know…Danny.”

  My stomach turned for an entirely different reason than bad turkey or asking her out nerves—I’d lied to her for months.

  About my name. And any other tidbit that would have linked me to my family.

  New Orleans was a big city, but in a lot of ways it was as small town as Mayberry—only with more booze and beads and boobs. A Sicilian family did not simply waltz in and buy half the French Quarter without creating a few million rumors.

  In the south, rich plus Italian equaled the mafia. In our case, the stories were true, or they had been until about a year ago.

  “I can’t.” Julia lowered her voice. “My sister’s here. I’m not sure she’s up for company, and I hate to leave her alone on a holiday.”

  “That’s cool. I get it.” I spent a fair amount of time bellyaching about my big fat Italian family, but in reality, I wouldn’t trade them for the world.

  I don’t know what she heard in my voice, but she sighed. “It’s not that I don’t want to see you…”

  “Hey, it’s okay. I’d feel the same way if it were just me and my brother.” Memories of Joe threatened to pull me under again.

  “It has to be hard without your older brother there.” Julia had spoken so softly I wasn’t sure if the words had come from her or my imagination.

  “I’m okay.” I hadn’t completely lied. That she knew exactly what was wrong without my having to explain meant the world to me. Besides, the last thing I wanted to do was to drown her in my grief. Again.

  It won’t help. The only thing that can is Sophia Abruzzo paying for his murder.

  When she spoke again, the humor had returned to her voice. “This is weird, but I was watching a movie earlier. Before they ate their turkey, the characters took turns saying what they were most thankful for. It was cute, but totally unrealistic.”

  “Sweet but cheesy.” I had no idea where she was going with this, but she had my attention.

  “Exactly. So I thought with us, being us, we should change it up a bit.” A rustling sound came over the line as if she’d changed positions. “Let’s share two things we’re thankful for and one thing we’d be thankful to get rid of.”

  Ideas rose to the surface of my brain like bubbles in champagne. “You first.”

  “This year, I’m thankful for my job and you.”

  And just like that, my black grief cloud lifted. “I feel the same way about you….and my job, but mostly you. I’d like to banish beige, dry turkey from all future holiday meals.”

  She snorted, choked, and alternated between coughing and laughing.

  My smile widened. “Soda shot out your nose didn’t it?”

  “No comment.” Julia pulled herself together enough to ask, “Was the turkey really beige?”

  “More like greige with undertones of green.” I deadpanned. “What about you? What’s the one thing you’d like to leave behind?”

  “I was thinking…” Her coy tone made my pulse race.

  “Yeah?”

  “I’d like to get rid of the mystery in our relationship.”

  My heart grew three sizes and threatened to burst from my chest. “A little mystery is a good thing.”

  “So you don’t want to meet me?”

  “Babe, you have no idea how much I want to meet you.”

  She made a little gasping sound that went straight to my cock. “I love it when you call me babe.”

  “You sure? It’s not too sexist for you?” I couldn’t help but tease her. While I agreed with her one-hundred percent, she’d made her feelings about gender equality known, often and loudly.

  “It is, and I’m probably setting women’s rights back fifty years, but it sounds incredibly sexy when you say it.” Julia sighed the sort of sighs that made me think of daydreams and cotton candy. “Right. So. As I was saying, the comic book and gaming convention is this weekend. How would you feel about meeting there?”

  Like I’d died and gone to geek heaven.

  “That could work.” I played it cool, but I couldn’t have thought of a more perfect first date. Julia and I had met online while playing the same video game. We shared a love for Star Wars, Lord of the Rings, and all things super hero—except Dare Devil, obviously. What better place to meet than the epitome of geekdom?

  “Great. I’m working the con, but I’m off Saturday night.”

  “Working?” As far as I knew, she had a job in cybersecurity—another thing we had in common.

  “Don’t laugh.”

  “I’m crossing my heart and hovering my finger over the mute button just in case.”

  She sucked in a breath. “I’ll be spending forty-eight hours or so dressed as sexy Darth Vader for a local comic book shop.”

  Holy shit.

  I’d expected her to say she was working a merch booth or the food court for a little extra holiday spending money, but this… wow. I’d seen my fair share of cosplay girls, and let me tell you, they were stunning. “Sexy Vader, huh?”

  “I know. I know. It goes against everything I believe in. I mean, I hate how women are objectified in Sci-Fi and fantasy, but Christmas is right around the corner. I could use the extra cash.”

  “You don’t need to explain. I get it. And I agree, women are absolutely objectified in the comic and gaming world, but…”

  “But?” She laughed, likely knowing full well where my brain had gone.

  I struggled to come up with a tactful way of asking her about her looks. In the end, I decided it didn’t matter. I was coming dangerously close to falling for her based on her heart and her sense of humor and her brilliant-freaking-mind. If the outside was as beautiful as her inside, bonus. If not, it wouldn’t change how I felt about her. “But, are you sure you’re ready to meet me?”

  “Absolutely.”

  A plan began to form. A freaking awesome plan involving VIP tickets to the masked ball. The event had been sold out for months, but for once in my life, I was glad to be a Marchionni.

  One phone call and I’d be a step closer to giving Julia the best first date in the history of first dates.

  2

  Frankie

  Tonight was my date with Danny. After so many months of talking online and on the phone, I knew him better than I’d known any of the jerks I’d actually dated in college. Without the physical stuff to get in the way, we’d formed an incredible bond.

  Why am I so nervous? What can possibly go wrong?

  My mind immediately went to my growing list of horrific scenarios. He’d pick his nose or boss me around or take one look at me and leave.

  Get a grip, Frankie. He’s amazing. Don’t pass out or puke on him, and everything will be fine.

  “What the hell are you wearing?” Sophia, my oldest sister, stormed into our bedroom. “Is that the costume for the con? I thought we had the night off?”

  She knew darned well why I was dressed as Harley Quinn. I’d told her about my date with Danny a hundred times. However, I didn’t have time to argue. Once Sophia got started, she’d go on and on.

  “We’re off tonight. I’m going to the masked ball, remember?” I drew a tiny black heart on my cheekbone. Then lined my blood red lips with a thick black line.

  “With the video game nerd? You’re still going?” Sophia gave me a look that reminded me far too much of our mother.

  “The proper term is geek, and yes, I’m still meeting him.” Makeup finished, I picked up my phone to order a ride-share. No way in the world would I take public transportation to the hotel while dressed in black and red pleather pants and a bustier.