Our Honored Dead (Stephanie Chalice Thrillers Book 4) by Lawrence Kelter Read Free Book Online Page A

a thoroughbred at the Belmont Stakes, I spun on those spike heels and made a beeline for the kitchen.
    “Ma? What are you doing here?” My mother was at the kitchen counter. She looked just as I remembered her when I was a little girl. She was grating Romano cheese. She turned to me with a big smile on her face, wiped her hands on a kitchen towel, and ladled a spoon of sauce from the pot.
    “Taste it, my beautiful, pregnant girl.” She held the sauce under my nose for a moment and allowed the aroma to waft through my nostrils. The aroma was exquisite—my knees began to buckle. I couldn’t wait any longer. I opened my mouth and tasted it. The flavor of Ma’s sauce was so incredibly delicious. I let it sit on my tongue, savoring every incredible nuance: the sweetness and the perfectly seasoned goodness.
    “Oh my God, it’s so good.”
    Ma pointed to a loaf of Italian bread. I tore off a chunk, dipped it in the sauce, and stuffed it into my mouth. Jesus, I think I just had an orgasm. I had sauce all over my face. I looked like an infant who had just attempted to feed itself for the first time.
    “That’s it, enjoy, honey,” Ma said. “Mangia.” She smiled robustly. “By the way, Stephanie, what the hell are you wearing?”
    “I don’t know.” I was too busy stuffing my face with fresh bread and sauce to care. “Ma, you still make the best sauce in the world. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to cook as well as you do.”
    “No worries, child,” she said, looking me up and down. “With a body like that you can order take out. I don’t think Gus will mind.”
    Sauce dripped into my cleavage. “Oh Christ, look at me. I look like a pig.” I looked up with a silly grin on my face. “Ma?” Ma was gone.
    I looked around. Gus was standing at the counter behind me. He was naked and wrist-deep in chop meat. He was forming a meatball and smiling a devilish smile.
    He motioned for me to come closer. “I’ll show you how to cook.”
    “Like that? No way. Put your boxers on.”
    He extended his chop-meat-encrusted hand toward me. “We all have our methods. Come on. It will be fun.” I got closer. He gave me a little kiss on the lips.
    “You understand that we can’t serve this food to anyone else.”
    He looked around and shrugged. “I don’t see anyone from the Board of Health, do you?”
    “You’d better be careful before you dip your salami in that sauce.”
    “My salami is just fine.”
    Oh God . . . yes, I know. “All right. You win,” I said, capitulating. “What do you want me to do?”
    Gus didn’t respond with words. He poured olive oil on my hands and began to gently massage them until my hands were completely coated.
    “What are you doing?”
    “Shhh. You have to lubricate your hands if you want to do a good job on the balls. It’s my trade secret.”
    I laughed so hard that I snorted. He worked my hands firmly, applying pressure, and working olive oil around my fingers and joints. That feels so good. “Hey, this isn’t one of your perverse little fantasies, is it? Because there’s no way that I’m going to play choke the chicken next to all this fresh produce.”
    “You really are nuts.” Gus laughed and began to work the olive oil around my wrists and up my arms. I closed my eyes and embraced his touch.
    “You’re one hell of a cook, Gus Lido.” His hands were up around my shoulders. He began to massage the back of my neck.
    “Okay,” he said. “Get in front of me and put your hands in the chop meat.”
    Really? I’m all hot and bothered. He expects me to cook? Now? I felt Gus’ warm breath on my neck as he stepped behind me and put his arms around me. “Hey, is that a braciole in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?”
    He laughed. “I’m not even standing at attention.”
    God bless him, he wasn’t .
    “Cook,” he commanded. I felt his warm, oil-covered hands under my apron, massaging my belly. “I love you. I can’t believe that we’re going to