Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
Angelo
“ Organized criminals: this message is for you. Your reign of terror in this city ends as soon as I’m sworn mayor .
The rot starts at the top, so be prepared for a thorough house cleaning.
Police department. DA’s office. Codes enforcement.
Corruption and public service are two things that will no longer go together. Not on my watch. ”
Closing the livestream, I get Mr. Bennett on the phone. “What the fuck was that press statement, Mr. Bennett?” I’m practically foaming at the mouth.
“I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I’ve been informed that because you didn’t respond to the mayor’s ‘reasonable’ offer, he’s declaring war on your family.”
“Tell him if that’s how he wants to play it.” I end the call so hard that I nearly crack my phone screen.
“His untimely death won’t go unnoticed,” Maks warns, knowing where my mind went. “Not saying it can’t be done, but if that’s what you decide, there has to be zero margin for error.”
Having learned from my brother’s debacle, I now have a fed from the NOLA field office on my payroll, but I fear that still wouldn’t be enough to sweep a sensational story like this under the rug. “Bring me dirt on Morrissey. He’s not the only one who can run a blackmail racket.”
“I’m trying, boss.” Maks rubs the back of his neck. “But he must’ve scrubbed his history. So far, I haven’t found any skeletons in his closet.”
I catch myself opening the security feed, yet again, to see what my little pickpocket is up to.
My little pickpocket.
“I know a way to find those skeletons.”
It’s nearly midnight by the time I return to the weekend house, and I find Al asleep on the couch. Her bodyguard notified me earlier of her arrival. No doubt a member of the household staff tipped her off about my houseguest, and because my sister’s a nosy little shit, here she is.
A blanket’s draped over the back of the couch, and I unfold it and cover her up before taking off in search of Remi.
Glowing eyes greet me in the kitchen, and I flip on the light to find the “jungle cat” seated on the countertop. She is an exotic-looking thing, with her pointy ears and golden coat with black spots. “I’m Angelo. You must be Nola.” Why I’m speaking to a cat, God only knows.
She rises to all fours, a low warning of a hiss directed my way.
“Chances are I deserve that, but you’ll have to be more specific. Where’s your human?”
The cat gives me another hiss before hopping down and sauntering out of the room like she owns the place.
Flipping off the light, I round the corner but stop short; there’s a light shining through the bottom of the music room’s door.
Another exotic creature who acts like she owns the place.
Quietly reaching the door, I open it, and all the blood drains from my face. A melancholy, jazzy rendition of Mama’s favorite song, Fly Me to the Stars .
My gun in hand, I sneak up behind Remi and press the barrel to her temple.
Her fingers stumble, hitting the wrong notes—the harsh sounds reverberating throughout the room.
“Who sent you?” I slide onto the bench next to her, digging the barrel into her temple.
“Nobody.” She gulps.
“You’re working with Fabien.” The thought nearly pushes me over the edge into madness.
“No,” she breathes. “I told you, I work alone.”
“How did you know?” I demand.
“Know what?” Remi whimpers.
“That was her favorite song.”
“Your sister and I chatted for a bit about your mama, if that’s who you’re talking about, but I swear I didn’t know,” she says in a rush. “I grew up with the jazz classics.”
I pull myself back from the edge, lowering the weapon as I take a seat beside her. “Play your favorite classic.” I use my gun to part open her robe.
Remi’s body trembles as her fingers begin moving, and it takes me a moment to place the sultry song. Angel and the Devil, in D minor.
A devilish smile spreads across my lips because I’m no angel.
Using the barrel of my gun, I trace her pebbled nipple through her Italian silk pajama top. Her stomach hollows as I explore lower, rubbing her pussy hidden beneath the matching silk pajama pants.
My money looks good on her.
An orgasm coaxed by me will look even better.
She moans, and maybe I didn’t stop myself from falling over the edge into madness, because I drag the gun to her waistband. Dipping the barrel inside her panties, Remi’s gasp goes straight to my cock.
“If you’re playing games with me, little pickpocket, you know what will happen.” I move the barrel back and forth between her pussy lips. Maybe the woman’s as mad as I am, because she’s so drenched, the gun slides with ease.
Remi whimpers; a beautiful sound. “I’m not.”
“Play,” I command.
She keeps her dilated gaze on the piano as she starts from the beginning. The vein in her neck flutters wildly, and I lean over, running my tongue along it.
A violent shudder ratchets through Remi’s body as her fingers falter, but she corrects the mistake. “Good girl,” I praise, and her little whimpers make my cock swell with need.
I move the gun faster, watching intently as Remi struggles to focus on her play while I play with her pussy. “That’s it,” I murmur, angling the tip of the barrel directly on her clit. “So fucking wet.” Her pajama pants betray just how turned on she is.
“I can’t.” Her fingers pause on the keys as her body trembles, so close to a release.
Stilling my movement, I tsk , and she whimpers her frustration.
“Play,” I command, denying her the orgasm until she resumes our little game.
Remi picks up from where she left off in the piece. Passion and frustration and fire in her rendition of the harmonic changes. Even though I have her at gunpoint, she’s the one holding me captive, with the overwhelming need to watch her fall apart.
My hand moves faster, the muscles and veins in my forearm protesting from the exertion.
As the song approaches its conclusion, I deny her clit a reprieve, circling it over and over.
Tears well in her eyes as she hits the last notes, her head falling back on a strangled cry as the orgasm rips through her petite body with brutal force.
Love it when I’m right.
Remi’s eyes remain closed as she catches her breath. Waiting for her eyes to flutter open and meet mine, I pull the gun out of her panties and bring the barrel to my lips. My tongue darts out, licking clean her desire.
Fuck, she even tastes like trouble.
“I don’t trust you, Remi,” I announce, holstering my gun.
More importantly, I don’t trust myself . Not around this woman.
Remi yanks her robe closed, cinching the waist. “The feeling is mutual, Mr. Calvani,” she snaps, her cheeks flush with pleasure. She’s a vision.
“Be that as it may, I need your pickpocketing expertise. Pull off this job for me, and I’ll see to it that your warrants disappear.” I dangle the carrot. “You won’t have to hide in the shadows any longer.”
“What’s the job?” she asks, her curiosity piqued.
I suppress a smile. “The mayor’s inaugural Mardi Gras party. Get me Mayor Morrissey’s phone, give my crew enough time to clone it, and then slip it back into his pocket without him being the wiser.”
She shakes her head. “Too important a mark.”
“You have no problem continuing to rob me,” I point out.
“Humility isn’t your strong suit, I take it?” She eyes me.
“No,” I tell her honestly.
Remi worries her bottom lip with her teeth. “Not saying it’s impossible, but it would be tricky with that much security around the mark. I’d need someone running counter surveillance, and possibly a duke man.”
“Whatever you need,” I answer smoothly, knowing what only one of those things means.
“I’d also need the venue layout and guest list.”
“Working on it as we speak.”
“ If I agree to this, I get my record cleared and a nice little nest egg to start over. A hundred grand.”
“Your record will be cleared regardless of the outcome. Fifty thousand, contingent on a successful job.” She goes to argue, but I hold up my hand. “You get to keep the other fifty you stole from me; there’s your hundred. And I want my watch back.”
“I’ll agree to those terms. But I’m in charge of the operation, since it’s my neck on the line. Things get dicey, and I say we abort, then we abort. I won’t be put into another dangerous sit?—”
“Who put you in a dangerous situation?” My nostrils flare.
She crosses her arms. “You. Several times over.”
“You say we abort, then we abort and look for another angle.”
“And I’m in charge,” she reiterates.
“You’re in charge.” The lie slides easily off my tongue.
I extend my hand, and she accepts, and we shake on it. “My threat stands,” I warn her.
A challenging glint in her eyes, she says, “Whatever helps you sleep at night.”
My lips lift into a smile. “Go to bed, and we’ll talk logistics tomorrow.”
“Very well. Goodnight, Angelo.” She leans over, running her nails through my beard, and knowing her game, this time I keep my attention on the feel of my phone in my interior pocket.
“Goodnight, Remi,” I tell her when she drops her hand, confident my phone’s where I left it.
Waiting until she’s gone, I pull up the security feed. Remi’s luscious ass sways up the stairs, followed by that exotic cat of hers, and I watch them both disappear inside the guest room.
Something feels off, and I pat myself down.
I throw my head back with laughter.
Too concerned with my phone, I didn’t feel Remi lifting my wallet.
Smiling, my fingers move over the keys, not playing anything in particular.
My cock’s so hard, one good tug would be all it would take, but I deny myself the release.
When I come to thoughts of Remi Landry, it’ll be because she’s writhing in pleasure beneath me.
And I’ll be damn sure to lock up my valuables.
“Boss, sorry to interrupt.” Maks knocks on the door.
“Enter.”
He joins me with a thick stack of papers, an unreadable look on his face. “Fabien’s records. Haven’t had a chance to go through everything yet, but the visitors’ logs caught my attention. A particular individual has been visiting Fabien every week.”
“Who?” I demand, grabbing the paperwork.
Page after page of the recurring visitor sign-in has me slamming the stack on the keys. The piano roars in an angry, dissonant mixture of sounds.
Not as fucking angry as I am.