Page 81 of Tempted By the Devil

I’d feel guilty if Rafael hadn’tinsistedwe buy whatever we want.

We’re approaching a designer shoe boutique when I recognize a group of men entering an Italian restaurant on the other end of the block.

Luigi Grasso is a notorious criminal in the city. The NPPD has tried and failed numerous times to bring him down, but his connections to the Tuco crime family are too strong. He’s been able to weasel out of every single charge ever brought up against him.

He and the handful of men he’s with stroll into the Italian restaurant as if they don’t have a care in the world.

My eyes narrow and I start in their direction without thinking to check with Jayla. She chases after me.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“Lunch?” I ask. “I’m starving.”

“We ate before the last shop.”

“I’m still hungry.”

“For a meal at an Italian restaurant? With how filling their food is?” she asks skeptically. “This isn’t about work, is it?”

“One of Titus Tuco’s captains went in there. I want to see if I can overhear what they’re talking about.”

“Are you crazy? What part of shopping spree involves eavesdropping on the mob?”

“Shhh, we’ll be discreet.”

I grab her by the wrist to pull her along.

Since I’ve started dating Rafael, I’ve put my investigative work into the drug shipments and the gang war on the back burner, but I haven’t abandoned it completely. Benjamin Sigler didn’t just happen to turn up dead. That shooting at the meat-packing district wasn’t some one-time quarrel.

It’s all part of the broader organized crime syndicate dominating Newport City.

No other reporter has the guts to break the story, so I will.

We slip inside Bocca’s front doors and dart straight to one of the tables far in the corner, strategically walking with our heads bowed and faces obscured as we do. A pretty young Italian woman who barely looks out of high school comes to our table to take our order within seconds.

“Errr… how about some cannoli? That’s an Italian dessert, right?” Jayla flashes an awkward smile at the server.

“Play it cool,” I murmur, my face neutral as the server walks away. “We’re supposed to be here by chance.”

“People don’t tend to spy on the mob by chance.”

“Shhhh! They haven’t even glanced in our direction.”

“Except our server’s now at their table.”

I chance the slightest look, so subtle I’ve barely turned my head.

The young woman has indeed gone over to their table, refilling their glasses of sparkling water. Only three other tables in the restaurant are occupied. She’s probably waiting on all five of them.

Minutes go by where Jayla makes fake conversation about one of her latest clients. I’m half listening while watching Luigi and his men out of the corner of my eye. They seem to be discussing a serious matter judging by their furrowed expressions.

Could they be discussing another drug shipment into the city? Will it be arriving by freight train like some of the others and then couriered to meat-processing factories in disguise?

The curiosity becomes too much.

I have to know. At least see if I can catch a word or two of what they’re talking about.

“I’m going to use the restroom.”

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