More Than Rum (The Maple Leaf Series Book 3) (24 page)

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More
Than Pancakes (Book One—Rick’s story)

More
Than Cookies (Book Two—Sage’s story)

More
Than Pizza (Book Four—Boston Edition)

Check
www.christinedepetrillo.weebly.com
for release dates on all upcoming novels.

Read on for a peek at
More Than Pizza!

Detective Daxton Wilder wished
for the soft folds of his leather couch. He craved the cold Sam Adams chilling
in his refrigerator, several slices of pepperoni pizza, and the lullaby of a
Sunday afternoon football game on his television. He missed his flannel pajama
pants and his favorite Patriots T-shirt. Hell, he wouldn’t even mind hearing
his neighbor, Mrs. Rodderick, holler for her little devil children as they
tortured some small animal in their front yard.

To be in his house in Boston,
Massachusetts, his slice of American history, his fortress, Dax would give just
about anything. Instead, he prowled the woods right now, the night sky doing
little to light his way. His hands were locked around his gun as he tailed a
few yards behind Richard DiNoble. Dax had spent the last ten months buried in
DiNoble’s mafia operation. He’d been witness to everything from drug
trafficking to prostitution to embezzlement, but only during this past week had
it become clear DiNoble was the head of it all. The man was careful, cunning,
and cocky.

Tonight, “Big Dicky” DiNoble
was done.

Dax stopped just shy of
DiNoble’s location, using a stout white oak and the darkness as cover. If he
could record the transaction going down between DiNoble and Providence, Rhode
Island’s equivalent mob boss, Vincent “Bulldog” Ramoni, Dax would have enough
to pack it up and get the hell out of this sleazy underworld. He could return
to the semi-life he’d had before being sent undercover to bust DiNoble and his
associates.

Not that he hadn’t enjoyed
playing a role, and he’d outdone himself on this one. Hollywood worthy, for
sure. His dark features and alias, Louis Vecchio, along with his great-grandmother’s
kickass marinara and meatball recipe had earned Dax a trusted spot in DiNoble’s
circle. All he’d had to do was wait it out, kiss DiNoble’s big, hairy, Italian
ass, observe, and take to the shadows tonight. Another hour tops and he’d be
debriefing the chief at the police station, receiving some congratulatory slaps
on the back from his colleagues, and hopefully, going home to sleep in his own
bed until he was good and ready to get up.

Maybe I’ll sleep through the
next two weeks. Hibernate like a bear for a little while. Hell, I’ve earned it.

“Did you bring it?” DiNoble’s
gravelly voice made Dax squint in his direction.

“I didn’t make the trip out
here for nothing, Dicky.” Bulldog waved a hand and a teenage boy with an
unmistakable resemblance to him appeared out of the shadows.

Damn.
Dax hadn’t noticed
the boy waiting in the trees.
Focus, man.
He’d put too much into this to
fuck it up now.

“Well, give it here, Junior.”
DiNoble stretched out his hand toward Bulldog’s kid.

Dax shook his head as the boy
stepped forward, tossing a nervous glance back to his father. He’d met a few
sons of the big bosses during his time undercover with DiNoble. The boys fell
into one of two categories. They were either disgustingly eager to follow in
their fathers’ footsteps, soaking up the privileged life they thought their
fathers led, or—as in the case of Ramoni’s seed here tonight—scared to death of
everything their fathers represented. Dax always considered the latter group
the smarter ones. They still had hope of turning out all right.

With an undecipherable grumble,
DiNoble snatched a small pouch from Ramoni’s son. Dax took a silent step closer
and wished he could be in contact with the other officers he knew were skulking
in the trees. He’d called in tonight’s clandestine meeting to Chief Samuel Hain
and requested backup, which the chief was all too eager to
give him.

Hain and Dax went way back. The
man had been like a father to him ever since Dax’s own parents had been killed
in a train wreck when he was fourteen. Hain, then a detective, got Dax and his
twin brother, Harris, into a foster home, lamenting he couldn’t take the
brothers in himself because he had four kids of his own. From there, Dax and
Harris bounced around different foster homes, some better than others, until
age eighteen when the brothers set off on their own. They both worked their
ways through college with Dax going into law enforcement and Harris ending up
in journalism.

Dax had always been grateful
for Hain’s guidance. Harris… well, Harris didn’t think he owed anybody
anything, but that was just how Harris was. It made him perfect for the job of
looking good behind a news anchor desk, his feathers always puffed and preened.

The shushing sound of something
being poured caused Dax to take another step closer. Something glittered in
DiNoble’s meaty palm as Bulldog shined a flashlight there. It only took Dax a
few seconds to realize DiNoble held a handful of diamonds. Add jewel smuggling
to the list of this dickwad’s offenses. The guy was definitely going down.

Dax tightened his grip on his
gun. Merely witnessing the exchange of diamonds wasn’t going to be enough. To
truly penetrate DiNoble’s armor, Dax had to capture proof straight from the
source’s mouth. He’d met several of DiNoble’s attorneys, all crooks like the
boss. Crafty sons of bitches. They’d managed to get one of DiNoble’s lowlife
associates in Vermont released even though the guy had attacked an innocent
woman outside a bar, with a witness. Fortunately, the woman had some crafty friends
of her own who’d brought that asshole down. Even DiNoble’s underhanded practices
couldn’t clear the charges once an entire bar full of witnesses gave statements.

Generally speaking, however, if
a loophole existed, DiNoble’s attorneys would niggle with it until it was a
bona fide Golden Ticket to Freedom. Dax couldn’t have that this time. No way
was he going to let his months of work swirl down the toilet on a technicality.

He adjusted the recording
device beneath his shirt and dared to take yet another step forward. He hated
the watched feeling that permeated the woods, though it was just his backup
waiting to close in once the key evidence was acquired.

“This is it?” DiNoble asked
Bulldog’s son as he closed his fist around the diamonds.

The kid shuffled behind his
father like a frightened pup. “That’s all there were, sir.” His voice crackled.

DiNoble looked at Bulldog. “I
was promised more than this. You know that. This isn’t the deal we arranged,
Bull.” He shook his head and let the diamonds cascade back into the pouch.
“I’ve got buyers waiting for the diamond shipment they’re expecting. I can’t
give them a third of their order. I can’t have them thinking Richard DiNoble
ain’t a man of his word. When I run the show, I deliver exactly what the
customer requests.”

Bingo.

Dax couldn’t have written a
more incriminating script. His backup had heard the admission as well, and
suddenly the woods were full of snapping twigs and crunching leaves as
uniformed police officers surrounded DiNoble and his accomplices. Bulldog’s son
let out a squeak as he cowered behind his father. Bulldog’s hands immediately
went up as if he were used to being in this exact situation. Only DiNoble
failed to react with the right dose of “Oh, shit, I’m caught.” In fact, a smug
smile slid across the man’s leathery face instead.

Dax pointed his gun at
DiNoble’s chest. “Police, hands up.”

DiNoble tossed the diamond
pouch to the ground and did as he was told. “Louis, Louis, Louis.” He shook his
head and chuckled. “Is that even your name, son?”

“My name isn’t important to you
anymore, big guy.” Dax motioned for several officers to move in and cuff the
bastards.

As DiNoble’s arms were wrenched
back and the click of handcuffs echoed, he laughed again. “Oh, but your name is
very important to me. You see, I like to keep proper records of exactly who I
kill.”

A gunshot blasted through the
quiet forest, and Dax knew before the bullet hit him that he’d miscalculated
just what a dick Richard DiNoble was. Pain seared through his back, sending him
to his knees. He was vaguely aware of booted feet rushing toward him.

Another gunshot sounded.

Dax tried to grab at the fire
burning now in his neck, but nothing worked. His body was useless. Everything
was muffled as if he had been plunged underwater. More gunshots, more
vibrations from the earth below him as boots pounded the ground. The iron scent
of his blood mixed with cool dirt and decaying leaves.

Pumpkin pie and cinnamon had
always been Dax’s favorite autumn smells. Not death and regret.

Check
www.christinedepetrillo.weebly.com
for release dates on all upcoming novels.

Alaska
Heart

Firefly
Mountain

Kisses
to Remember

Abra
Cadaver

Lazuli
Moon

Dive
(mermaid anthology with Joseph Mazzenga, Heather Rigney, Rachel Moniz)

Night
Eternal (gothic poetry with author Joseph Mazzenga)

Young Adult Romance writing as
Christy Major

Run
With Me

Sail
With Me

Co-writing as Goodwin Reed

A
Less Perfect Union

Christine
DePetrillo
tried not being a writer. She
attempted to ignore the voices in her head, but they would not stop. The only
way she could achieve peace and quiet was to write the stories the voices
demanded. Today, she writes tales meant to make you laugh, maybe make you
sweat, and definitely make you believe in the power of love.

She
lives in Rhode Island and occasionally Vermont with her husband, two cats, and a
big, black German Shepherd.

Find Christine’s other titles at
www.
christinedepetrillo.weebly.com
. 
Connect on Facebook at
www.facebook.com/christinedepetrilloauthor
,
on Twitter at @cdepetrillo, and at The Roses of Prose group blog on the 4
^th
and 14
^th
of every month at
www.
rosesofprose.blogspot.com
.